The It*Men's "Greatest Its"

The first thing you notice is the phony ring wear marks on the gatefold sleeve of this double LP. Somebody clearly spared no expense on packaging. (Once you get inside and read the extensive lists of folks thanked on the inner sleeves, you get the idea: This project was crowd funded. Welcome to the future.) Open the gatefold and there are liner notes -- four columns worth, in a font you can read without pressing your finger against your eyelid -- that describe a band history that's clearly bogus. "We take you back to 1965." Right, pal. Your parents were probably born that year.

The band in the pics could be from anywhere, but probably someplace where there's a college. (OK, they're from Cleveland. Ohio is the secret music capital of America.) They look like Mudhoney, playing cheap shitty guitars by choice, but not "ironically." The lead singer has glasses. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I've been told that they sound like MC5/Stooges. Back when I used to go to SXSW at the behest of some publication or other, I heard that descriptor so many times that it became meaningless. Sigh. War's over. We won.

Dropping the needle in the grooves, my cynicism takes a powder. There are echoes of Detroit ramalama here, but they're mixed with a healthy dollop of Pacific Northwest greaser garage grunt. Sure, "Come and Get Some" even employs the classic "Kick Out the Jams"/"I'm Loose" chord progression, but it's all folk music, right? "W.I.P.G.A.S." sounds for all the world like a collaboration between Ron Asheton and Gerry Roslie. And that's a mighty fine thing indeed.

Underneath the goofy mythologizing, these guys are smart, sharp players. The dueling guitars play distinct parts, rather than a wall of noise like you might expect, intertwining lines and soloing with fuzz-'n'-wah-laden abandon. Rather than cloaking their rifferama in the overly saturated sounds of vintage Gibsons 'n' Marshalls, they sound like they plug the aforementioned shitty guitars into cruddy pawnshop amps -- raw but right. In places, they're as arranged as the MC5 were on Back In the U.S.A., but imagine if Landau hadn't felt compelled to cut the  Five's balls off when he recorded 'em.

Unlike many bands of similar ilk, these It*Men are no one-trick ponies. There's enough variation between the tunes to justify a double album, even veering into Can (!) territory -- albeit with less riddimic imagination than that kosmische crew -- on the side-long closer "Death Machine." "Doing Drugs for You" shows a keen sense of dynamics, opening with just drums and bass to build excitement and blasting off into the stratosphere from there. "It*Men Stomp" plunders Bo Diddley in a way that'd make Them and the Pretty Things proud, while "Screw the Pooch" is redolent of Bon-era AC/DC.

The secret weapon is frontman Ken Janssen, who might look like an English Lit major, but sings like a cross between a National Wrestling Alliance grappler and a demented biker from some forgotten '60s TV cop show. On top of that, he writes clever, funny lyrics, even managing to rhyme "Yukon" and "futon" on "Baby, I'm Your Man," a sexual tour of these United States. Give these guys half a chance, I say to myself, and they could give "garage rock" a good name again.

The smile dies on my lips when I surf over to their website and read the real band bio. Apparently the It*Men's real heyday was in the '90s, and ten years after they folded the tent, frontman Janssen was diagnosed with ALS, aka Lou Gehrig's disease. Earlier this year, they regrouped to record new tunes and play one last show to boost their bandmate's spirits and raise money to help defray his medical expenses.

It seems rockaroll is become the music of mortality, with guys like Mick Farren shuffling off this mortal coil every week, and even Lemmy proving to be less invulnerable than we all fantasized. The Big Sleep is even becoming a more frequent lyrical theme -- just listen to the albums the Stooges and Deniz Tek, f'rinstance, released this year. Greatest Its is a giant razzberry blown in the Grim Reaper's face. Don Van Vliet said it, and I believe it: "Death be damned / Life."

The Waitresses' "Just Desserts - The Complete Waitresses"

Best known for the perennial holiday hit "Christmas Wrapping," the timelessly topical "I Know What Boys Like," and the theme to TV's Square Pegs, the Waitresses were an '80s pop phenom with roots in the arty '70s Cleveland-Akron underground scene. Fronted by deadpan-voiced Patty Donahue, the band was the brainchild of idiosyncratic pop genius Chris Butler, who'd logged time in estimable Ohio outfits 15-60-75 (The Numbers Band) and Tin Huey and claims (in the liner notes to an earlier compilation) that the band's concept was originally a late-night breakfast spot joke.

On September 24, Omnivore, a reissue imprint to be reckoned with, will release Just Desserts - The Complete Waitresses, a double CD which includes both of the band's albums and an EP -- none of which have been released in full on American CD to date -- plus a rare B-side and a couple of alternate versions.

Donahue had a post-Waitresses career in record label A&R before dying from lung cancer, aged 40, in 1996. 

Butler lives in New Jersey and releases his own work on Future Fossil Music. He's in the Guinness Book of World Records for recording the world's longest pop song (the 69-minute "Devil Glitch"). Other Future Fossil releases include The Best of Kilopop!, on which Butler and vocalist Carla Murray masquerade as an ABBA-like Europop band; The Museum of Me, which features Butler's modern rock songs recorded on archaic media like wax cylinders, wire recorders, and the Rolling Stones Mobile Unit; and the somewhat self-explanatory I Feel A Bit Normal Today. There's also his closet masterpiece Easy Life, which Butler released as a promo CD to indifferent radio stations in 2001 and continues tinkering with obsessively to this day; I raved extravagantly about a version I heard a couple of months ago. 

He graciously agreed to answer a few questions about the new Waitresses release via email.

Q: "Just Desserts" compiles everything the Waitresses recorded for Polydor. Thirty years down the road, what do you think of when you listen to this music? 

A: Well, I don’t listen to these tracks in a daily, Norma Desmond-like way! Once through to check out the mastering is quite enough, thank you. Many thoughts and reactions though when I did do this: “Hey…this stuff is good!” “What was I thinking?” “Wow!” “Ugh!” Etc. On one hand -- interesting, risky music that seems to hold up. On the other -- imagine cleaning out the attic, and discovering a box of ancient, childish drawings that your proud parents used to stick up on the refrigerator.

Q: Your songwriting for the Waitresses was unusual in that you wrote from a woman's perspective in a way that was humorous, but still sympathetic, and dealt with real situations (besides the obvious hits, "No Guilt" is a good example). Was that your intention? 

A: I never thought the gender issue was any big deal. Plenty of men write for women, many male playwrights have created credible female characters, etc. Like any male consumed with the life-long task of figuring out women, I just looked and listened, then tried to capture/recreate in Patty and my character’s persona what I saw/heard around me. 

What I DO think is unusual was …I never wrote love songs. That territory was already well-covered by better songwriters than me. I was more interested in day-to-day psychological and sociological themes and situations, natural dialogue, the common problems of daily life which had not been served by rock song lyrics. I took the term “original song” very literally, and strove to cook up new ways of writing lyrics and music.

Q: To what do you attribute the ongoing popularity of Waitresses songs like "I Know What Boys Like" and especially "Christmas Wrapping?" 

A: No one thing, but perhaps many little things. “Boys Like” is pretty utilitarian: its empowering tone fit into the feminist mindset of the time; strippers used it; I’ve been to parties where tipsy women sang it as a kind of giggly sexual anthem. The first bootleg Waitresses t-shirt I ever saw was in a shop window in the West Village where I was living at the time. This is/was a major gay area, and the song’s title on a T-shirt was coy and flirty, and fit into the gay lifestyle. “Wrapping” was a modern urban tale, I guess – many of the people I knew/know look/ed at the holiday season as piling on more frantic on top of the already daily frantic. It's secular, and there is a magic around Xmas time whether one is religious or not. Credit to Tracy Wormworth’s exuberant bass line…that can’t go unrecognized. It’s a feel-good song without being Hallmark-y icky.

Q: In the spring of 1977, you drew attention to the Cleveland-Akron-Kent music scene by writing a letter to "Dean of American Rock Critics" Robert Christgau. Why Christgau? What were you trying to accomplish? 

A: There was a book shop in Kent that would have the Village Voice a week or so later than than the NYC publishing date. I had more of an East Coast sensibility, than a West Coast sensibility, so I would read these when I could/had the dough. Christgau wrote a piece about The Clash and the scene in London. I thought (and not a little miffed), hey…we have a great, cookin’ little scene here in Kent/Akron/Clevo…why ain’t we getting recognized and written up? To my surprise, he wrote me back…his interest piqued. Eventually, he and his wife came out to Ohio, we put on a show, and they liked what they heard. 

Q: On the Tin Huey Bushflow Tapes CD, there's a version of "The Comb" with the Huey boys backing Patty. Did the Waitresses concept predate your membership in that band? 

A: Yes. I was in 15-60-75 (The Numbers Band) when I started writing songs. Being in that band required a major commitment of time and woodshedding, which left no time for an active side project. The solution – crafted with pal Liam Sternberg – was to invent imaginary bands that could record our songs. “The Comb” came out of that brief, and when I joined Tin Huey, we would don “Waitresses Unite!” T-shirts, invite Patty up and do these songs as an encore mini-set at our shows. 

Q: A couple of Wasn't Tomorrow Wonderful? numbers ("Wise Up," "Heat Night") had their genesis in the Tin Huey days. Can you tell us a little about the provenance of those songs? 

A: “Wise Up” captured my utter bitterness re: not having love in my life, and if I did, it would be doomed. “Heat Night” was the reverse -- the wonderful feeling of hearing a great rock band on a hot August night when the walls are sweating and the women are grooving and turned on and anything can happen. Both were very much a product of who I was (probably still am) during the Tin Huey period. At the time, I though they were the best, most interesting, most “authentic” things I’d written, and so they got repurposed as Waitresses songs. 

Q: How did the Waitresses' move to NYC come about? 

A: I moved to NYC in October of ’79 after Tin Huey had run its course, and we had been bought out of our Warner’s contract…by Warner’s, who didn’t want us around for a second record. I had “Boys Like” as an acetate, and when it got picked up by Island as a single, they asked me where my band was? And where’s the B-side? I fibbed and said…the band was back in Akron. Patty was free, so I wired her my last $50 for bus fare, and asked the musicians I’d met in NYC to record “No Guilt." When the single got some play and nice reviews, I thought I had better chase after it and form a real band, though I had just wanted to be a songwriter and had felt burned out on bands. 

Q: How did you come to write the theme song for Square Pegs? 

A: Ann Beatts, the show’s runner, and Judy Belushi (John’s widow) were fans, and they called me up out of the blue. I am writing an audio story about this, and so will get into that episode in depth there, but basically it came out of left field. It was a very trying, bizarre experience…I will tell you that.

Q: For Bruiseology, you got to work with a Big English Producer [Hugh Padgham]. What was that experience like? 

A: Wonderful man, great engineer. I’m a huge XTC fan, and he was a gift. But we were tired, cranky Yanks, and it was a struggle. We did end up making a good record, I thought, but as band leader, I failed to keep our combo together at the end. Perhaps if we had waited another six months to record, we might have been in better shape all around. Can’t say enough good things about Hugh. 

Q: Four tracks in the Omnivore box are previously unreleased. Tell us about them. 

A: "Hangover 1/1/83": Although we were sold over to Polygram, I believe Ze/Michael Zilkha still had some usage rights to “Christmas Wrapping.” With Polygram’s blessing, Ze wanted to do "Christmas" as a single in the UK, and so needed a B-side. I’d go back to Ohio a lot, and always tried to do something at pal Rick Dailey’s house. The impact of Rick’s recording skills on me, Devo, and the other Akron bands cannot be trumpeted enough. So…I came up with a riff at Rick’s, triple-tracked the basses, Rick played an out-of-tune guitar that I would continue to de-tune as the tape was rolling -- great fun. Took the tracks back to NYC, Mars [Williams] added some sax, and we had another in the tradition of throwaway B-sides. Except I like the groove a lot! 

"Bread and Butter" remixes: All Polygram’s doing. The dance music age was just beginning and remixes were becoming “just what you did.” So they did. 

"Bruiseology": We were hard pressed for time since Hugh Padgham was booked hard to do The Police. Big pressure, Patty rebelled, had to finish the record so Tracy did the original vocals for "Bruiseology."  Polygram wanted Patty’s voice on the tune, so it was redone at Electric Lady and that’s the version that made it to the record. But I thought Tracy’s was the keeper, personally.

Charnett Moffett's "Spirit of Sound"

I got to see Charnett Moffett play right after I moved to Texas in 1978. It was quite extraordinary, and it happened this way: My buddies and I used to go to  spot on Lemmon Avenue called the Recovery Room, where Miles Davis' '50s pianist Red Garland would sometimes sit in with the Marchel Ivery Quartet. One night, while the band was on break, I was standing out in the parking lot when a van rolled up, emblazoned "Moffett Family Band, Fort Worth, Texas" on the side.

Out climbed Charles Moffett, who'd been Ornette Coleman's drummer from 1962 to 1966, and three of his sons. Charles Jr. played tenor and Codaryl played drums; they were teenagers. Charnett, who was 12, seemed barely tall enough to carry his double bass, let alone play it. The three brothers got up on the stand and blew the roof off the house with blazing, '60-style "fire music." People's jaws were still hanging when they got back in the van and headed back down I-30 to Fort Worth.

In the late '80s, I started seeing Charnett's name appearing on records. He was in Wynton Marsalis' band, recorded for Blue Note as a leader and sideman, even got to play with Ornette on his 1996 Sound Museum albums. He's on one of my favorite records of the '90s: Sonny Sharrock's Ask the Ages. He even had some crossover pop success in (where else?) Japan. More recently, he's been a member of Living Colour drummer Will Calhoun's jazz trio, and recorded a series of CDs for Motema Music, a label run by singer-songwriter-guitarist Jana Herzen (with whom he's recorded in a duo setting).

With Spirit of Sound, Moffett comes full circle in a way, performing in the company of his son, drummer Charnett "Max" Moffett; his daughter, vocalist Amareia Moffett; and his wife Angela Moffett, who performs spoken word and plays tamboura. He also receives assistance from the rest of the Motema roster: reedman Oran Etkin, pianist Marc Cary, percussionist Babatunde Lea, vocalist Tessa Souter, and label boss Herzen.

The arrangements on Spirit of Sound are orchestrated by the leader, who overdubs upright acoustic, fretless electric, and piccolo basses. The tunes, with the exception of Ornette's "Lonely Woman," are original and East Indian-flavored. Moffett's a virtuoso player, and his instrumental flair is highlighted throughout, but the result is a lot easier for the casual listener to hear than an album of bass solos would have been -- although he's got one of those, too, also on Motema: The Bridge (Solo Bass Works). It's a long way from the music I heard him making with his brothers, all those years ago, but it's engaging and accessible in a way that invites repeated listenings. If jazz radio still existed in this country, it could even be (to steal a phrase from Willie the Shake) "a palpable hit."

The Nomads' "Solna - Loaded Deluxe Edition"

I reviewed this album when it was released in Sweden last year, but now Ron Sanchez's Montana-based Career Records has released an American version, which omits two songs from the original but adds three new ones in their place. While the concept of domestic vs. import might seem academic in this internet age (unless you're a Yank buying records from Australia or Japan), this new edition is a worthwhile purchase if you don't already have the album, or are a completist. And if you've never heard the Nomads...well, lemme tell ya.

The Nomads exemplify everything I love about non-hyphenated rockaroll. While operating at a less exalted level than, say, the Rolling Stones or the Stooges, these guys have kept the faith for over 30 years now, recording and touring as their obligations to families and straight jobs would allow, slogging around the rock dumps where you don't need a Jumbotron to see the people on stage sweat, with the added bonus of being able to feel the air from speaker cones and kick drum heads moving your clothes around.

At a time when the rock audience was fragmenting into hardcore, metal, and, um, "college rock" factions, the Nomads burst out of the Stockholm suburb from which this album takes its name as an "underground jukebox" for a generation of fans to whom Lux Interior, Johnny Thunders, and Lemmy signified what Chuck 'n' Bo had to their older brethren 'n' sistren. In the '90s, the band became a songwriting vehicle for bassist Bjorne Froberg, a scribe who worked the same patch of turf as the Dictators' Andy Shernoff, equally informed by garage, punk, and pop aesthetics.

The songs on Solna cover the Nomads' entahr spectrum, from fuzz-drenched garage rock pounders to Blue Oyster Cult-influenced mysterioso to Sire-era Flamin' Groovies power pop. From the Swedish CD, you lose the Motown-esque "Trying Too Hard" and elegiac closer "The Bells." In their place, you get the crash 'n' thump of "Don't Kill the Messenger," the Roky Erickson homage "The Way You Let Me Down," and the closing energy blast "Get Out of My Mind." Fair exchange.

ADDENDUM: Ron Sanchez sez, "The vinyl comes with a 17 song download which collects all the material recorded over the last year or so." You know what to do.

Gunslingers' "Massacre-Rock Deviant Inquisitors" EP

Wow. I wrote these guys off when alpine-hatted frontman/guitarist Gregory Raimo released his second solo album earlier this year. Look how wrong you can be. Now they're back with a two-song, 16-minute EP, recorded the old-fashioned way, in a single take on four-track analog tape, and released in an edition of 500 on one-sided white vinyl. If you're looking for the distilled essence of rockaroll, you could do much worse than spinning this platter.

The Gunslingers' No More Invention arrived like a Candygram from the gods in 2008, massively hyped by Julian Cope but justifying his extravagant praise with a level of manic intensity that was only surpassed by the fury of their live performance in a dive bar in our humble city. So impressed were we by Raimo's ability to coax a howling feedback apocalypse out of a borrowed amp that soon, and without discussion, Richard Hurley and I started spiking our guitar necks into the tops of our rigs in emulation of GR whenever we wanted to conjure Stoogeaphilia's trademark shitstorm of noise -- imitation being, of course, the sincerest form of flattery. Offstage, GR and his bandmates Matthieu Canaguier (bass) and Antoine Hadjioannou (drums) were the nicest cats you could imagine, but onstage, they were...kind of frightening. In a good way.

Like an Isley Brothers single, "Massacre-Rock Deviant Inquisitors" is divided into "Part I" and "Part II," even though both parts are pressed on the same side of the record. GR still spews indecipherable gibberish non-stop in a voice laced with flat menace, while splintering shards of guitar damage like some unholy amalgam of Link Wray and Sonny Sharrock. The riddim boyz back him to the hilt in a manner that leaves subtlety and finesse at the door and dispenses a pummeling that'll bruise you. Keep this disc around for those times when you need the catharsis that only an amped-up exorcism can provide.

Cop via Lesdisques Blasphematoires Du Palatin.

Mark Dresser Quintet's "Nourishments"

Speaking of Rudresh Mahanthappa, the altoist is all over Nourishments, the new Clean Feed CD by the Mark Dresser Quintet. Formerly Anthony Braxton's bassist, Dresser currently performs in three different trios with Mahanthappa, pianist Myra Melford, and ROVA Saxophone Quartet founder Larry Ochs. He's also collaborated with filmmakers, visual artists, and...chefs? (The track "Canales Rose" is based on a 12-tone row and dedicated to chef Paul Canales.) His solo work has focused on the use of unusual amplification and non-standard techniques, and his statements abound references to "telematic performance" (think Skype) and "gradience," which he defines as "the blurring of boundaries between pitch and noise, meter and texture, form and feeling."

If such rhetoric makes your head hurt, be prepared to be surprised by Nourishments, a recording rooted in (but not bound by) jazz tradition and song form. Dresser is the most intentional of composers, and many of the pieces on this disc employ ever-shifting tempos in a manner inspired by the masterworks of Mingus, a similarity that's highlighted by the prominence of Michael Dessen's trombone as an ensemble or solo instrument (shades of Jimmy Knepper). The knotty angularity of Dresser's melodies is more reminiscent of Monk or early '60s Andrew Hill, though, and the fact that he and his collaborators are such individuated players ensures that the album sounds like anything but a sterile homage.

All the players are substantive voices who've had long associations with the leader, and are willing to subordinate their interpretive intelligence to the composer's intent. Besides Mahanthappa and Dresser, the other crucial ingredient is pianist Denman Maroney, who serves Dresser as well as Jaki Byard and Horace Parlan did Mingus. His "hyperpiano" approach (involving the placement of tools on piano strings) sounds like a Cagean trope, and isn't audible to these feedback-scorched ears, but no matter. This is some of the best post-bop small group writing you'll here anywhere, and the pieces are as engagingly alive as any current jazz of which I'm aware. An album that's as satisfying as a good meal, but also conducive to repeated listenings.

Mo' stuffs 'n' such

i.

Big Mike Richardson posted this on Facebook awhile back and I wanted to grab it and post it here while I can still retrieve it. It's the Band of Gypsys playing "Earth Blues" at the Fillmore East, and of course it's a different version from the one on the Live At the Fillmore East 2CD. As the person who posted this on Youtube notes, JH is really in a zone here. A good example of why I believe he made his best music in the last year of his life. Contemplate what might have been, and dig what was.



ii.

Been on a Vernon Reid kick since the Living Colour show. I haven't heard all of his solo records, but Mistaken Identity, produced with Prince Paul and Teo Macero (!), hits like a Warner-era Funkadelic record, and I can respect the fact that Vernon could both play his ass off and not insist on dominating the mix. Front End Lifter, by Yohimbe Brothers (Vernon plus DJ Logic), has a hallucinatory quality and makes a good case for hip-hop as the logical extension of jazz.

He's also in Spectrum Road, a Tony Williams Lifetime tribute band (!) with Jack Bruce, John Medesky, and Cindy Blackman-Santana (yep, she's married to him), who earns her slot in the toughest position in that band and kicks more ass using the traditional grip than a brigade of lesser trap-kickers using matched hands. As big a shadow as the early John McLaughlin casts, I'm glad they included "Wildlife" from the Allan Holdsworth lineup (which I had the pleasure of seeing live in '76) in their repertoire.



Vernon also plays in Free-Form Funky Freqs, a power trio with Ornette's old Prime Time riddim section of Jamaladeen Tacuma and G. Calvin Weston. They played two gigs, then recorded their debut album. The video below is from their second show, in Jamaladeen and Calvin's hometown of Philly. Their modus operandi is just show and blow with no tunes or premeditation. Kind of like PFFFFT! did except, y'know, better.

Dennis Gonzalez/Yells At Eels' "Colorado at Clinton"

Colorado at Clinton reunites Dennis Gonzalez and Yells At Eels with drummer Stefan Gonzalez's childhood friend, saxophonist Aakash Mittal. The altoist relocated to Colorado with his family in the early '90s, subsequently studying jazz with Rudresh Mahanthappa and East Indian music with Ravish Momin, and playing his own music which reflects both elements of his musical heritage. On a 2011 visit to Dallas, he was reunited with the Gonzalez family for two recording dates which produced the six tracks included here.

Dennis' "Devil's Slide" establishes a ruminative mood with a harmonized theme from the horns. It's a four-way improvisational dialogue in which no one voice predominates. The presence of a second horn means that Dennis can eschew the electronic effects he sometimes uses to provide timbral variation in a live setting. As ever, he's an agile explorer whose spiritual warmth and puckish humor set the tone for the proceedings. "Wind Streaks in Syrtis Major," which is becoming a highlight of YAE sets, doesn't have the density the second bass added to the version they recorded in Poland and released on vinyl last year, but Mittal applies his own voice and approach to the tune and finds new things to say about its themes.

On his "Shades of India," the altoist and Stefan seem to be of one mind, completing each other's thoughts even though they'd been apart for 20 years. Here and elsewhere, bassist Aaron Gonzalez's deep pulse anchors the improvisation, while the others flow around him like a raging river. Dennis' "Constellations on the Ground" is a lyrical lament that features a beautifully elegiac Charlie Haden-esque solo from Aaron, while the trumpeter's "Dokonori Shiito" takes things out with a freneticism reminiscent of Ornette Coleman's groups with Dewey Redman. An impressive outing from an outfit whose stature grows with each release. Cop from the artist via Paypal by emailing dennisgonzalezx@aol.com. (You don't need a Paypal account.)

Stuffs 'n' such

i.

Rockaroll is become the music of mortality. Adios, Mick Farren, rock 'n' roll Renaissance man, who died with his boots on, fronting his band the Deviants, on Monday. Here's a remembrance by his friend, Charles Shaar Murray.

ii.

Ohio is the secret music capital of America, and 15-60-75 aka the Numbers Band might just be the finest Kent, Ohio, had (and still has, on occasion) to offer.


iii.

For a couple of months of Sunday nights at the end of 2002, I had the rare pleasure and privilege of playing second guitar in Lady Pearl Johnson's BTA Band. Not long after the New Year, I took a night off because I was on deadline for the Fort Worth Weekly. She passed the next day. RIP to a great lady.



iv.

As mentioned in the Living Colour post below, here's Corey Glover having church at the Kessler on "Amazing Grace" and "Open Letter To A Landlord." Video by Jeff Liles, as was the one that accompanied that other post.