Simultaneously a cry for help and a call to arms, this month's banner headline recognizes change and passage: from life to death, peace to war, a revolution in the status quo. Change is not always for the best, yet those who oppose it are branded as uncooperative, unyielding, dare I say it: conservative. But this month we acknowledge pioneers who would not accept things the way they were and took it upon themselves to forage ahead into troubled waters to bring down the powers that threatened to drown us all in a sea of mediocrity. We recognize members of established cult bands that had something different to say outside of the group aesthetic and believed in their own vision and talent to step outside, look around, and say to the world: "I have something new to offer. You may not like what I have to say, but hear me out. Change may not be better, but without it, we'll all wither away on someone else's bandwagon."

Nick Saloman and Tony Dale operate two of the finest independent labels in the world in Woronzow and Camera Obscura, respectively, and both celebrate their 50th releases outside the mainstream. They haven't all been successful. Sometimes blood is thicker than water in the music business and you offer a friend an opportunity to share their musical vision with the world, or repay a favor to someone who helped you along the way. Business decisions made with the heart instead of the head seldom succeed. Starting your own label, whether it's because no one else would release your material or because you've heard something that you just have to share with the world (or a combination of both) is a frightening proposition. Nightmarish tales of Davids who took on the Goliaths of the "majors" and failed run rampant in your head and you often ask yourself if you're "doing the right thing." Economic ruin, strained relationships with loved ones who tell you to grow up and get a "real job," and an indifferent public who question your taste and sanity await you at every turn. But Nick and Tony have marshaled on, and it is with respect for their courage and envy of their passion to bring us music we'd otherwise miss that I dedicate this month's column.

We also salute four artists who have stepped out of the comfortable environs of their well-known bands to offer us a glimpse into what goes on in their minds when they go home at night and start fiddling around with ideas that may be rejected in the democratic process of a group dynamic: Saloman's partner in both his Woronzow and The Bevis Frond ventures, bassist Ade Shaw; Ramones' frontman, the late Joey Ramone; Phineas Gage (now known as Raining on Vivian St.) guitarist Patrick Porter; and Green Pajama's keyboard player Eric Lichter.

The Bevis Frond - What Did For The Dinosaurs (Woronzow)

For his historic 50th release, Nick offers this (slowly developing) concept album of a cult rock and roll star trying to branch into the big time. [The title refers both literally and figuratively to the end of an era, or the end of a promising career - as in, "alcohol did him in."] The opening to the title track bears more than a passing resemblance to Love's "Alone Again, Or" before a brief carnival-like interlude introduces...what's this? horns? on a Bevis Frond album? Has he completely gone off his nut? Nick gets up on his soapbox again (remember North Circular's "The Pips"?) and is off on a vitriolic rant against what could be former bandmates who've thrown their lives away, allowing drug and drink to eat away at their existence. [Esoteric record collector note: this is certainly the first song to namecheck David Ackles, Shy Limbs (one of Greg Lake's first bands) and Love in the same verse!]

"The Wrong Side" and "Hold Me Up" are perfect pop confections that Nick seems able to whip off in his sleep, as is "Silver Dart," which has the added attraction of a none-too-subtle appropriation of the guitar riff from The Byrds' "I'll Probably Feel A Whole Lot Better." If such things still existed, this would be the lead-off single from the album. "Yo-De-Lo" is a singalong, novelty stomper that marks the return to the recording studio of Nick's daughter Debbie, albeit in a L7-ish banshee wail that'll give Yoko a run for her money (listen to the coda to "Pretend We're Dead" off Bricks Are Heavy (oh, and when's that Petrocat album coming out?), and features the Yo-De-Lo Glee Club as well as Alchemyst guitarist Paul Simmons. It's harmless fun that might sit nicely on the next Joan Jett album.

I'm not sure what holiday "Lost Soul's Day" refers to (perhaps what we in America call "All Souls' Day"?), but the song commemorating the event is a tender acoustic ballad that revisits the melody to "It Won't Come Again" (curiously, another song which visits the musician-as dinosaur theme) and provides a poignant rest stop in the midst of all the heavy rockers surrounding it.

Elsewhere, "Candles" is a straight-ahead rocker with the now familiar but always mesmerizing trademark blistering solo; "Nursery Rhyme" is notable for some interesting chord and tempo changes, not to mention the cockeyed lyrics which serve as the song's title; "Good Enough For You" verges on punk in attitude and execution and harkens back to the seminal Von Trap Family days - note the biting solo from Nick's old Outskirts of Infinity mate, Bari Watts; "Down To Earth" is another sentimental ballad like the ones you've heard advertised on those late night "mellow hits of the '70s" collections; the short burst of fresh air, "The Inhibition Twist" recalls the melody from The Undertones' "Wednesday Week," and what Frond album would be complete without an epic 13 1/2 minute guitar extravaganza - this time in the guise of "Dustbins in the Rain," (which brings us up to "Miskatonic Variation #4" if memory serves). The first half of the song is vintage Neil Young, or something Nick might have experienced in the early morning fog over Glastonbury with his meuslix and eggs and Might Baby as his alarm clock. The second half is almost a four-part suite of styles, from prog to pop to rock and back again and begins with a spot-on impersonation of Dave Cousins and his Strawbs, ca. Hero and Heroine. Portions are barely audible, whispered confessions of an aging rock star losing the battle of the bulge, stumbling across the stage, and resting on past laurels. As the subtitled second part of the title track, the album takes on an entire new look as a confessional tale from Nick to his fans (the final lyrics are "Offer my apologies to all") and perhaps all those derogatory remarks back at the beginning were in fact directed towards himself? Lately, Nick's lyrics have focused on humble, introspective questions of whether he's chosen the right profession and his perceived need to please everyone with each subsequent release. This self-analysis and self-doubt has led to more varied material that does seem like it's aimed at a wider audience than just his cult fans. I can't argue with his intentions, but must offer an opinion that his last few albums (Valedictory Songs and now this one) have suffered a bit from "too many cooks" syndrome. It's an opinion that will probably not be shared by my fellow reviewers who cherish the "branching out" and "stylistic chances" they take. But, for me, a Bevis Frond album was always like a Ramones album - you pays your money and you know what your getting. Once Johnny started tossing in an extra chord, I was taken for a loop and it took a while to adjust. Perhaps, in time, "Dinosaurs" will grow on me, but initial impressions as presented here are of too many toss-aways that might have an archival interest ten years hence. Judging by the bonus tracks appended to the recent reissues (discussed last month), he's left better songs off his albums, and only about 2/3 of the 18 tracks included here leave a pleasant taste in my ears. Although it may be sacriligious to say, perhaps Nick might want to consider not being so generous in filling up the 80 minutes a CD alots him and hold back a few songs every now and then, and be as ruthless with the editing pencil as he apparently was back in the early days.

Adrian Shaw - Look Out (Woronzow)

Ade's fifth solo album (and fourth on Woronzow) is a more direct concept album about the ravages of time on an old rock and roller. Having recently survived a life-threatening battle with Hepatitis-C, Shaw looks back on his life with references throughout to different events, both musically and politically, that had a lasting effect on shaping his current lot in life. With a musical career that spans four decades, Shaw has lived the stereotypical life of a rock and roll hobo, floating on a whim and a prayer from one party to another, outdistancing former bandmates Drachen Theaker, Android Funnell, Steve Peregrine Took, Bob Calvert, et.al. Look Out can thus be heard as a trip down memory lane with stops along the way to sit back, smoke a joint or three, and listen in to Ade's record collection. Favorite bands and songs, past and present are namechecked or directly contribute to the proceedings. "I Don't Think So" begins with a soft acoustic guitar solo, then kicks into hyperdrive with blistering electric solos from Ade's mates, Nick Saloman and Tony Hill (High Tide, The Misunderstood) before Ade's son Aaron closes the track with a mean acoustic solo. The three generations of Ade's musical life are thus gathered in one place (past: he's recorded with both Hill and High Tide bassist Pete Pavli, who, along with Rod (Ethereal Counterbalance) Goodway was a member of Shaw's first band, J.P. Sunshine; present: Nick and Ade co-run Woronzow and are the mainstays of The Bevis Frond; and future: Ade's son Aaron is an accomplished guitarist in his own right, and joined Nick and Ade when they backed up Country Joe for a few concerts in the UK several years ago).

"Another Face" is a melancholic piano/synth-led ballad about stardom and disappearing into anonymity in the crowd. It features a clever drop-in where Ade reverses the oft-quoted JFK line about what your country can do for you. The nostalgic "Rhododendran Mile" features an impressive harmonica solo from Ade, while "The Chosen" opens with a organ solo that is vintage Bevis Frond circa his first three albums that we reviewed last month, and progresses into a funereal march with Ade's echoed vocals eerily reminiscent of David Gilmour. The next track, "Many Are Called" continues the titular malaprops (get it? many are called, but few are chosen), although it could be a reference to the classic Man track ("Many Are Called But Few Get Up"). However, this track, which also recalls early Frond with its tape looped voices and cut-up sounds spliced together comes off as more of a novelty song that took longer to assemble than the rest of the album. For all the effort, I think it could have been omitted.

The nostalgic theme continues with "Remembrance of Things Past," whose melody swings like a hangman's noose in the breeze. "Father's Day" represents a turning point in Ade's life, as fatherhood brings responsibility and a decision to leave childish things behind. It's time to grow up and leave the drunken party nights behind and the song can be interpreted from both perspectives - Ade as dad and son. Although primarily known as one of the top bassists in the biz, Ade originally began as a guitarist and is still a very good one at that, and his incredible guitar solo at the end apparently exorcises all his demons, taking on an almost cathartic air.

"Modern Man" is another tale of aging, as this modern man looks at his life today and realizes he must reap what he has sown and take responsibility for his current state of affairs. I don't know if "Cool Blue Reminder" is current street slang for one of "mother's little helpers," but it certainly is the druggiest sounding track on the album, chock full of goodies for the head: one of his finest guitar solos, vocals that range from Ringo Starr recorded in the W.C. to a tape-manipulated, slow-motion effect that sounds like it was recorded under water (or our hero found a couple of Quaaludes under his pillow). The circle of life draws to a close with "Childhood's End," a gentle, acoustic ballad with swirling flute effects somewhat reminiscent of something George Martin might have cooked up for "Flying" or "Blue Jay Way."

Perhaps Shaw's finest hour, Look Out bears repeated listens with an ear towards the interpretation I'm suggesting and, if I'm close to the mark, all I can say is, "Ade, mate, thanks for sharing."

Patrick Porter - Reverb Saved My Life (Camera Obscura)

When last heard from, Porter was one-half of the duo Phineas Gage, whose debut, Reconsidered (also on CamOb) was one of my favorite releases of 2000. Here, Porter resurrects some solo material he recorded in his basement on a 16-track ADAT and, with the help of $422.55 and Bob Hockenberry, we have his debut solo album. Porter’s airy, whispered vocals are still to the fore, perhaps not surprising as he recorded these tracks between the wee hours on 2 a.m. and sunrise and probably didn’t want to disturb the neighbors. The songs here have more of a bite and immediacy to them than the floating, dreamy Gage material; thus, whereas the former reminded me of the great Manchester band The High, these tracks beg comparison with Oxford’s finest, Ride, and Porter’s voice is at times uncannily reminiscent of Mark Gardner. "St. Louis" is buoyed by a lilting melody which borrows the compositional one trick pony from Black Sabbath in that the vocals parallel the guitar’s melody line, and "Last Song From A Booth" bears the gestational pains of "Kite," a song later used on Reconsidered.

"Moths On The Dashboard" certainly has a late night/early morning sleepy vibe to it: think Nick Drake on an electric guitar (you can even hear Porter’s fingers stroking up and down the neck of his instrument). The circumstances around the recordings also lend an ominous, claustrophobic air to several of the tracks and in this regard my mind kept recalling Red House Painters’ debut collection of demos, Down Colorful Hill, particularly on "My Roll In The Beating."

Some minor quibbles: the drums are way too high in the mix (a frequent problem with one-man band recordings), thus calling too much attention to themselves and overshadowing the songs. "Scratch Paper," in particular, suffers this fate: the dualing tinny drums and throbbing bass overshadow Porter’s whispered vocals to the point that they’re unintelligible. The latter tracks, particularly "Adopt A Highway/Tinsel," tend to become more experimental, meandering and repetitive and the 30-second closer, "Humble Siren" is completely superfluous. I half-facetiously wonder if it was slapped on merely to push the the total running time over the 50-minute mark.

But Porter’s instrumental prowess is amazing for one of such tender years (he was 18 at the time) and cancel out any minor misgivings. Reverb Saved My Life isn’t the sound of some precocious high school kid fumbling around in his basement, but a young prodigy whose early command of song struction, melody, and counterpoint, and the ability to capture his emotions in music offer promise for future endeavors. Porter is also a published author (two novels), and he and musical partner Josh Wambeke have rechristened Phineas Gage as The Wilhites (Raining on Vivian St. was considered and wisely jettisoned), and we look forward to hearing new recordings from them soon.

Sharron Kraus - Beautiful Twisted (Camera Obscura)

For their historic 50th release, Camera Obscura have selected the gothic wyrdfolk of (Dr.) Sharron Kraus, apparently a native of my sister city over in Oxford, England. From the cover phot, which bears an uncanny resemblance to the logo from The Blair Witch Project to the sepia-toned photo of Kraus and her banjo, the packaging hints at ancient tales of murder and mystery a la Spectral Light's Scarecrow Stuffing and Kraus delivers with a collection of tales that run the gamut from incest and perversion to gettin' jiggy with Mr. "D." The mostly drummerless instrumentation, highlighted by stellar performances from Amy Clay and Tracy Farbstein on fiddle, Ron Guensche on mandolin and 5-string banjo, and Kraus, herself, blowing a mean whistle, is perfectly suited to the olde tyme, hand-me-down, traditional feel to the album, and welcomes favorable, albeit obvious comparisons to Fairport Convention. Indeed, Kraus' voice is, at times, strikingly similar to Sandy Denny's angelic soprano. If you close your eyes....

Highlights include the swaying waltz of "Moonbathing," the provocative "Twins," a mournful tale of incest featuring Tracy's haunting fiddle solo, the jolly "Death Jig," and Kraus' low whistle solo (now there's something we don't get enough of these days) on the ghostly "The Wrong Man," which brings back fond memories of Gryphon, The Third Ear Band, Dr. Strangely Strange, and Mr. Fox, just to mention a few artists who've explored similar territory with equally impressive results.

The title track gets the full-band treatment, and the participants are firing on all cylinders, yet display an amazing restraint, which compliments the dichotomy of the oxymoronic lyric. The almost unbearable tension of the arrangement rounds out an excellent collection of "beautifully twisted" tunes, a welcome addition to the expanding canon of intriguing, off-kilter, wyrdfolk projects, and as such is recommended to fans of Goblin Market, Stone Breath, Monster Island, The Iditarod, and other "poor minstrals of song."

Joey Ramone - Don't Worry About Me (Sanctuary)

Joey's first (and, sadly last) solo album begins with a patented Ramones-y high ener-ener-energy cover of "What A Wonderful World," the nonsensical novelty tune, "Mr. Punchy" (with vocal assistance from The Damned's Captain Sensible), and astute political commentary "Venting (It's A Different World Today)" [what's often overlooked in any discussion of The Ramones catalog is how political so many of their songs are]. Not everything is successful, though. Joey's never been a convincing balladeer, coming off more often like a bull in a china shop, so "Searching for Something" kind of meanders around aimlessly. When he's successful, he has a memorable tune to work with, but this lacks both conviction and a melody. The tired, Bo Diddley-on-steroids riffing on "1969" renders the track nothing more than typical bar band boogie and producer/guitarist Daniel Rey's Hendrix-styled soloing verges on wank-off grandstanding of the worst sort.

The anthemic "I Got Knocked Down (But I Got Up)" would have made a killer single and is the album's best track. The singalong title track has a simple, memorable, hooky chorus (another Ramones trademark) and Rey's wall o' sound production and ex-Dictator Andy Shernoff's bone-crunching bass coupled with Marky Ramones' powerful drumming on half the tracks add a depth and texture above and beyond the typical tinny sound that Ramones' records had heretofore been known for and all add up to a better-than-average solo album from the leader of one of the most influential bands of the last quarter century. As solo albums go, there's little deviation from the sound of the band that spawned it, but the fact that this will be Joey's only solo album will probably make it last longer than it should in the Ramones-related discography. Normally, I'd say it's a promising debut and I look forward to Joey working out the kinks on the follow-up, but alas, that's not to be.

Eric Lichter - Palm Wine Sunday Blue (Hidden Agenda)

If you’ve been following our reviews of recent Green Pajamas’ release, you’ll know we’ve hinted at the possibility of a solo release from keyboard player, Eric Lichter. Now, before you go asking me for the latest winning lottery numbers, I must confess that this eagerly anticipated debut was in the works long before we started speculating out loud.

I can think of no other band operating today that can match the four distinct songwriting voices of the Green Pajamas. Recent releases have started to expand beyond the signature sound of guitarist Jeff Kelly, and with the addition of Laura Weller several releases ago, the band expanded their talent pool beyond the Kelly/(bassist) Joe Ross/Lichter triumvirate. Their latest album, This is Where We Disappear (Woronzow) contains the most contributions from Lichter on any GPJs album, so perhaps it was only fitting that he should be the next to be alloted an entire disk to display his ideas outside the Pajama party (Kelly already has at least half a dozen).

The opener, "Wildly Polite" wraps a catchy chorus around an unusually contemplative verse that feels like it belongs to another song. This verse/chorus dichotomy – using separate musical tones for each – is a Lichter trademark – often his songs feel like they’ve been patchworked together from several works-in-progress. "Papa Quayle" (which sounds like a verbal pun - add "lewd" to the end) has the quirky air of David Lowery and Cracker hovering over it. Imagine Tom Petty fronting Cracker and trying to fit as many lyrics into 2 ½ minutes as possible and you haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of the wacking goings-on in this song! And speaking of unusual things, wrap your ears around Lichter’s ode to "Haley Mills" (Kula Shaker lead singer Crispian’s mum): Bernard Herrmann-esque cello strokes, distorted vocals, a forlorn piano, a catchy chorus, and Jeff Kelly on drums! - It don’t get much weirder than this, folks!

Another component of a Lichter composition is his oblique lyrics, a talent he shares with Lowery, Dylan and Prine, and while folks may not write books interperting his songs, it’s fun to try. I could probably come up with about three or four different ideas for what each of these songs is about, and probably none of them are what Eric had in mind while he was writing them.

For example, on the surface, "Cloth of Time," co-written with Kelly, sounds like a tribute to a dead opera composer, yet it just as easily could be interpreted as a loving eulogy commemorating the passing of a relative. Others, like "Homely Ghost," would appear to be about his mom (her vocal intro would lend credence to this interpretation), yet it could simply be a love song from the viewpoint of a widow mourning the loss of her husband, who failed to return from a trip to sea.

We do know that "Singled Out" is for his sister, Michelle (because he tells us so), and "Mist Maureen" (with vocal assistance from Pajama Weller) is about his wife (inside information). "Lavender Swing" throws us another curve, as Kelly assumes keyboard duties for a rather baroque solo – unusual for a keyboard player to offer someone else the honors on his own solo album. It’s a testament to the respect and faith he places in his bandmate’s hands (no pun intended), and is one of the reasons the PJs have lasted this long – it’s almost like a family affair. The song immediately brings to mind the early work of Elliott Murphy (always a good thing), another artist whose work I kept thinking of throughout this release. In fact, if some of the tracks on Murph's recent collaboration with Iain Matthews were as good as these, that album would have turned out much better than it did.

"Dumbox" is one of the most straightforward arrangements on the album - Lichter finds a tempo and sticks to it throughout, and although it's one of my favorite songs on the record, I'll be damned if I know what the heck he's on about.

The title track is as light and pleasant as a salty ocean breeze in the summer, featuring a crystaline guitar solo from Kelly. It’s lovelier than a summer day on the Puget Sound! Finally, the closing "Broomstones" is essentially a Green Pajams song - only drummer Karl Wilhelm is conspicuous by his absence. I'm glad we finally get to hear it, because in my opinion, it tops Lichter's three compositions on the current Pajamas' album, This Is Where We Disappear (Woronzow) and could have been that album's "Galss Tambourine," my all-time favorite Lichter composition, which you can find on the Pajamas Strung Behind The Sun album, also on the aforementioned Camera Obscura label.

In sum, Lichter's songs are quirky, angular, with extreme tempo changes which keep the listener off-guard. The songs thus call attention to themselves, but I'll forgive him for that because the music couches such oblique lyrics that anything that draws you back into the song to unravel the mysteries within is commendable.

Famous - Famous (Blue Couch)

Perhaps, at long last, the missing link between Cheap Trick and Britpop (which some might claim was a "cheap trick" of a different sort), singer/songwriter/guitarist Ben Phillips and Co. (bassist Mark Damon and ex-Too Much Joy stickman, Tommy Vinton - their surnames, by the way, are NOT where the band got its monikor from) have fashioned the first great pure pop album of the year, a rollercoaster ride around the last three decades of rock and roll, with stops along the way for Bowie, Hunter, Gallagher, Nielsen, Lennon, McCartney, and Davies to hop on and pay their respects. Phillips doesn't just wear his influences on his sleeve, he's got them emblazened into his songwriting and vocal stylings like a tattoo proclaiming "Power Chords Are Us."

With titles like "Live Forever," "Surrender," and the eponymous title track (co-written with former TMJ bassist and Graham Parker producer, William Wittman), you better have more than a great record collection up your sleeve, and Famous deliver the goods across eight tracks chock full of more hooks than a meat market. The crunching guitar attack of the vitriolic "No Angel," the anthemic chorus of "Surrender," the unintentional double entendres of "Break Me," the wishful, sinfully delicious title track, and the can't-get-'em-outta-your-head melodies throughout are but a few of the highlights of this initial offering from what surely is the best power pop trio in the business today. I can't say enough about the excitement generated around "Junkie Towers" by what I guarantee will be the summer's biggest smash hit record, so I'll let my good buddy, Fred Mills have the last word, "Shit, this stuff RAWKS, dude! The Cheap Trick references are obvious, but grrreat!" You obviously know what to do.

Luna - Romantica (Jetset)

From the opening guitar riff of "Lovedust," I already feel like I'm stranded on the island depicted on the cigarette lighter on the cover of Luna's seventh album (and first for Jet Set, a label heretofore known for its emo acts). It's light-as-a-summer-breeze arrangement suggests we may be in store for their best album since Bewitched over a decade ago. Did I hear somebody say "hit single?" The good times continue on "Weird and Woozy," with a few "oohs and aahs" thrown into the chorus for good measure. "Black Postcard" stretches out for some Velvets-styled guitar soloing, and strings make a rare appearance on the other "Black" song ("Champagne"), which recalls the fine orchestrations of The Witch Hazel Sound.

However, it wouldn't hurt Dean Wareham to spend a little more time on his lyrics. I mean, "millions...billions [and] trillions"(from "Lovedust"), "Woozy," "Dizzy," "oodles and oodles" (from "Renee is Crying"), and "spodyody" (from the title track) are not gonna win any songwriting awards, although I must admit to a guilty pleasure of hearing someone squeeze the Yogi Berra-ism, "How will I know what I think till I see what I say" into a pop song (again, the title track, which then goes on to shoot itself in the foot with drivel like "I'm in a jam/You're in a pickle/We're in a stew." But, I guess that's to be expected from a man who tried, unsuccessfully, to lift "fuzzy wuzzy" from the denizen of the locker room (cf. Pup Tent.)

Elsewhere, "Rememories" rips its opening riff from an old Bowie song (from Low, perhaps?) and then proceeds to lull us into nappy time with its elongated guitar lines which sound like their emanating from a pedal steel. Romantica runs out of steam towards the end ("Dizzy" and "Orange Peel" are disposable), and the title track is best experienced under the influence of your favorite flavored cough syrup, but overall this is certainly their finest outing since the aforementioned Bewitched, and something I'll be playing nonstop in my walkman on the beach this summer. I'm particularly fond of side one (that's the first half-dozen tracks for you vinyl intollerants out there), which come across like an alternative Jimmy Buffett. All we need is a nickname; too bad the Moonies is already taken. How about Lun-ies, or, better yet, Luna-tics?!

[ Home ] [ Flashes From The Archives Of Oblivion ]