They Were Good Until They Got Popular
by Michael O’Keefe
Hello, and welcome to my column, in which I’ll be reviewing whatever I feel like, as long as it’s reasonably unlikely to receive massive amounts of attention elsewhere. There’s a reason for this, though it’s double-edged. First, obviously, indie releases sound different from major releases; they’re either too weird, too unfashionable, or too underproduced. Indie music is great because much of it is utterly unique. Other indie recordings bring new ideas to established styles, and still others are simply raw and primal. However, the converse to all this is that major releases are, in fact, quite frequently just better. They’re almost uniformly better-produced, and despite what you might think from browsing the latest Billboard charts, major labels frequently have far stricter quality standards than indie labels do. So, I have to say that anything I suggest here should be supplemented by a casual read through Rolling Stone or a similar mainstream periodical. Popular music is generally popular for a good reason; say what you will about NSYNC, for instance, but it’s hard to argue that their songs aren’t unbelievably catchy.
Anyway, I don’t have anything especially profound or interesting to say by way of introduction, so let’s just jump into some reviews. No real pattern here, but these are a handful of excellent albums. Not necessarily “the best of all time”, for the reasons above. However, here are some unusual but highly recommended choices:
The Cakekitchen: Stompin’ Thru the Boneyard
New Zealand’s best-kept secret, the Cakekitchen are a remarkably accomplished duo consisting of Graeme Jefferies (guitar, bass, vocals, piano, feedback, and who knows what else) and Jean-Yves Douet (drums). On a first listen, 1995’s Stompin’ doesn’t sound overly bizarre, but like many of the best experimental rock albums, the weirdness is embedded within solid, excellent pop songs. First track “Tell Me Why You Lie” is pure thrashing post-punk rock, and it’s the catchiest song here by far. Its most striking feature is the incongruity between Jefferies’ cool, low-key vocals and the insistant two-chord churn. “Even As We Sleep” switches without warning into a rock waltz, and “Hole In My Shoe” disintegrates into an atmospheric duet between roaring guitar and piano.
What is perhaps most engaging about this album is that it effortlessly transmutes the raw noise and energy of punk and no wave into a mellow but rocking sound. The aggressive “Mr. Adrian’s Lost In His Last Panic Attack” would be alienating and harsh in the hands of any other group, but Jefferies and Douet skillfully blend the extreme feedback into a very weird but very enjoyable pop song. “The Mad Clarinet” (featuring fellow New Zealand indie icon Alastair Galbraith, a.k.a. the world’s strangest violinist) and “Another Sad Story” are surprisingly touching songs, and they provide a pleasant balance. Not an album for everyone, to be sure, but it’s a wonderful example of genuine experimentalism within a relatively familiar framework.
The Clean: Anthology
New Zealand’s other best-kept secret. In fairness, it’s worth checking out the entirety of the New Zealand indie scene, embodied by Flying Nun Records, but the Clean were the first and arguably best band of the movement. A single listen to any one of the songs on the superlative 46-track (priced as one CD) Anthology is proof of their influence and creativity. If you’re not used to listening to indie rock, Anthology will be a bit jarring. Much of this music is recorded very poorly; “Tally Ho” in particular features perhaps the cheesiest-sounding organin existence. That said, it’s worth listening past the sound quality.
The most amazing thing about the Clean is their ability to sound so sloppy but so calculated. It’s fairly driving post-punk rock, but the Clean are far more interested in interesting noise and witty lyrics than in experimentalism or aggression. The sound they produce is evocative of, say, a more congenial Sonic Youth performing covers of ? and the Mysterians. First and foremost, this is catchy pop, but there’s a certain noisy, individualistic edge that adds a huge deal of charm, as if they’re the well-behaved grandchildren of the Velvet Underground. Highly recommended for all real fans of rock music; what these guys do with the standard guitars-bass-drums format is deeply impressive.
The sheer uniqueness and presence on this album is almost overwhelming, and it’s easy to understand why the first incarnation of the band didn’t last for more than a few years. The Clean still sort of exist, getting together every few years for a new album (2001’s Getaway, not covered by Anthology, is also highly recommended), but its members dedicate more time to their other projects, which have included the avant-noise rockers Bailter Space and the lyrical, intelligent Bats.
Primal Scream: XTRMNTR
Not really a secret by any means, Primal Scream attained living legend status with 1991’s classic Screamadelica, gained a massive following among dance fans, and virtually defined rave culture. Then in 1997 they released the excellent change-of-pace Vanishing Point. But following this, Bobby Gillespie and Co. appeared to vanish from the face of the earth. Despite a reasonable following in the UK, their popularity bottomed out in the US. Which is a real shame, because 2000’s XTRMNTR was far and away the best album of the year and one of the best ever. It’s also a strong contender for angriest album ever; Primal Scream’s reputation is built on marrying psychedelic rock to dance textures in a far more organic way than any of their predecessors. You wouldn’t know it from XTRMNTR, which runs the gamut from loud to bonecrushingly loud. The Scream seem to be deeply irritated with virtually everything in sight, and this is their uber-aggressive response.
“Keep Your Dreams”, the only song XTRMNTR has that’s even vaguely gentle, opens with the line “I have to believe that syphilis can burn your soul away.” “Accelerator” is the MC5 on super overdrive; it’s a frighteningly intense rush of a song, featuring a sample of a jet engine turning on. “MBV Arkestra” is exactly as it sounds, the pure noise of My Bloody Valentine as interpreted by Sun Ra, turned up to 11. It doesn’t let up until the pulsating but strangely relaxing “Shoot Speed / Kill Light”, featuring New Order’s Bernard Sumner.
I’m intentionally paying less attention to the lyrics than to the music, for decent reason. Although Gillespie is adept at tossing out catchy one-liners (such as “the military-industrial delusion of democracy”), social criticism within a hard rock context isn’t anything new. What is new, though, is the sonic texturing; there’s nothing here that hasn’t already been said by Rage Against the Machine, but the music of Rage, for all its innovation, has never been this insistent and purely angry.
It’s not at all a safe bet that you’ll like this album if you liked Screamadelica; if anything, XTRMNTR is a furious look back at the culture of Peace, Love, Unity, and Respect initiated by the earlier album. The new sound of Primal Scream is deeply removed from that of the Happy Mondays and the Shamen, and much closer to the raging industrial rock of, say, KMFDM. But where industrial music revels in its synthetic nature, XTRMNTR appropriates the pulse and noise of industrial and attaches it to first-rate rock. It’s the same sort of organic synthesis initiated by Screamadelica, but the Scream are now making war, not love.
The Raincoats: Odyshape
What a strange little album. The Raincoats were by far the most distinct and creative of the bands to emerge from the punk movement. Their eponymous first album (which I almost put on this list) was a bizarre deconstruction of the punk aesthetic, notable for its incorporation of Vicki Aspinall’s shrieking violin. Odyshape, recorded a year later (1981), is so far removed from the punk sound, and, indeed, from just about any other music that’s ever been recorded, as to be utterly timeless. Vocalist/bassist Gina Birch lists her influences in the liner notes: “Michael Nyman and Gavin Bryars ... to all kinds of ethnic music, Eskimo singing, reggae and of course punk”. It’s not even worth trying to describe the completely unique, cacophonous, but utterly comfortable music on this album, because nothing sounds remotely like it.
As with many totally unique performers, it’s often unclear whether the Raincoats were deeply creative or if they just didn’t actually have a clue what instruments are supposed to be used for. Song structures are completely fluid, guitars and bass bounce off each other in indescribably weird ways, vocals are an odd mixture of the deeply skilled and off-key, and percussionist Ingrid Weiss seems to have based her drumming style on the sound of glass falling off of shelves. But despite the total lack of convention, it somehow works (suggesting deep genius, rather than ineptitude). It’s not quite rock music, or perhaps it’s the next step in the evolution of rock. This is truly experimental music that manages to be deeply listenable.
No other band could ever sound like the Raincoats, because they’re just too creative, too weird, too uniquely individual to be imitated. Unfortunately, aside from 1983’s enjoyable The Kitchen Tapes, their entire catalog is out of print. Despite its unbridled excellence, this music is just a little too weird to ever attain much popularity. Don’t let that stop you from hearing it; used copies are a slight challenge to find, but shouldn’t be too hard.
And, finally, this month’s new reviews (where “new” means “in the last year or so”).
Nick Cave: Nocturama
My verdict: Not recommended
Nick Cave is one of the most unique and respected figures in rock music, having established a totally unique fusion of cabaret jazz and no-wave dissonance. But Nocturama finds him backpedaling. “Wonderful Life” is essentially the same song he’s recorded in varying forms since 1990’s Good Son. “Bring It On” is downright ordinary, sounding like any number of generic pop groups in the last decade. Only the overblown ballad “He Wants You” and the short burst of post-punk noise “Dead Man In My Bed” are worth listening; the remainder is alt-rock drek that would be better performed by the countless bands Cave seems to be imitating. It’s a real shame, because he’s still got the same powerful voice and dramatic flair. But instead of intense drama, Cave is only producing hollow imitations of his past greatness. “Babe, I’m On Fire” is almost unlistenable; instead of the hard-hitting noise of his early work, it’s a seemingly interminable self-parody. It’s certainly not yet time to write off Nick Cave as a has-been. It’s in fact a testament to his consistent excellence that Nocturama is the first truly disappointing album he’s released in over 20 years. His previous album, No More Shall We Part, is better in virtually every way and highly recommended.
The Velvet Underground Bootleg Series, Volume 1: The Quine Tapes
My verdict: Recommended
The Velvet Underground are certainly one of the greatest bands of all time; “Sister Ray” is perhaps the absolute defining moment of experimental rock music. Robert Quine, before performing with Richard Hell and the Voidoids, was a Velvets groupie with a tape recorder, and he’s responsible for this horribly-recorded concerts. But it’s worth suffering the awful sound quality; no other official release has ever quite captured the true power of Reed and Co. There are no fewer than three versions of the stunning “Sister Ray” (the longest being 38 minutes), and a number of interesting alternate versions of classic songs, particularly “New Age” and “What Goes On”. By no means should you buy this as a first Velvets collection, but to those who own the four studio albums and would like to hear more, this is an indispensible release.