You are currently browsing the category archive for the 'camp' category.
jsREVIEW:
The press loved Bittersweet Alley in 1983, these big-haired lads from Detroit who were a “return to rock.” They got similar press to the White Stripes today, which is kinda an odd thing to think about, both in what it says about rock criticism and rock in general. Us writers are always looking for a return to some halcyon days of yore, ain’t we?
And in 1983, they were found in these pouting divas with big hair and prominent crotch-bulges.
Their press pack is a time capsule from that time, with the girls in the BSA tees looking like those print ads from old Rolling Stones; the breathless puff pieces referring to bars long since shuttered (RIP Lili’s 21); the red 45 in a small paper sleeve…
As for the music, well, That’s a-side “Time to Move” (helpfully hosted offsite by Motorcityrock). There’s also the b-side, Society Girl, which is a bit weaker.
In my mind, they sound mostly like The Tubes making out with Duran Duran during a coke binge, and I like that. I like the power pop, I like the easy sense of rock and warmth they bring to the occassion. If I had heard this band in 1983, when I was a wee four-years-old, I’d have believed that there was something in the Detroit water to give bands like The Romantics, The Knack and Bittersweet Alley such great pop songs.
But the first two of those are now barely remembered by “kids these days” (offa my lawn), and BSA’s best google hits come from this article, a Metafilter post that I made, and an absent-minded bit of nostolgia from one of the guys in Porchsleeper.
This is fun memorabilia, maybe never worth that much to resell, but a great forgotten part of Detroit rock. If you buy it, take care of it, OK?
jsREVIEW:
This album is a party, simply put. Sure, the applause is fake and the casual rock that underpins the entire album is played less with a view toward any cohesive tunes than endless jamming, but the spirit of loose fun from the fringes of the disco movement pervades the whole thing.
Brainchild of Bob Crewe, best known for producing the Four Seasons, giving them a clean, open sound, Disco Tex is closer to Crewe’s other claim to fame— writing Lady Marmelade for Labelle. The other creative force behind Disco Tex? Sir Monti Rock III, a coked-out hairdresser who pimps with the best of them in a campy gay style.
A great album for DJs looking to drop some weirdness into a set, or for hipsters looking to have a party all on one platter, the album keeps the same beat throughout (for easy matching) and would fit great into a set next to Dr. Buzzard’s Savanah Band (or any August Darnell gig, really) or Was (Not Was). Hits include both “Get Dancin’” and “I Wanna Dance Wit’ Choo,” whose loose rollicking character should be apparent from the titles. Also great are “(I See) Your Name Up In Lights,” a Latin/Showtune anthem with plenty of headtrip effects, and “Love is a Killer,” featuring the vocal stylings of the Chocolate Kisses.
If nothing else, it proves how wild and fun the dance scene was before Saturday Night Fever and Disco Duck. For those of you not afraid of “disco sucks” backlash, this is great deep crate vinyl.
-js
