Category Archive

By Max Conroy

Living in Ann Arbor, it’s strange to have to purchase a European import that compiles a bunch of records recorded here, but I’m glad it’s available at all.  The name of the label, A-Square, is a nickname for the city of Ann Arbor.  It was created by Jeep Holland, a compulsive music and comic collector, DJ, manager, promoter, and manager of Discount Records, the store that Iggy Pop worked at as a teenager.  Holland would stock import records that no other stores would carry, British Invasion records, and get a feel for what area kids would respond to in the store and while DJ-ing events.  He met local musicians at Discount and eventually started promoting some of them.  In 1965 he began producing records exclusively as promotional material to get gigs for acts that he was promoting and put them out on his A-Square imprint. 

In five years, he put out records by approximately a dozen bands, including the MC5, the Rationals, the Scot Richard Case (SRC), the Up, and the Frost; all Detroit legends.  By 1970, for a myriad of reasons, including his domineering personality, poor business acumen, lack of payment from distributers, and changing times, he left Ann Arbor for Boston, leaving behind A-Square records and a wake of debt.  A lot of these records are very hard to find now, 40 plus years later, and the 45s have been the only way to hear most of these great bands.

A-Square (Of Course) was released this past May on Big Beat Records, distributed and marketed by the mega-reissue label Ace Records out of the UK.  The title comes from a button issued by the label that read A-Square (Of Course).  There are definitely some issues with this package, but the good greatly outweighs the bad.  First off, there are no Rationals tracks on it, which seems odd since they were the biggest act on A-Square and the label’s flagship act, but Ace intends on releasing a compilation of their work on A-Square soon, to be named Think Rational! (again from a button).  According to Scott Morgan of the Rationals, they’re still working on obtaining the rights to the masters.  Secondly, this is by no means an exhaustive collection of A-Square’s catalogue, which would require a multiple-disc release.  This collection contains 25 tracks by ten bands, 8 tracks by the Thyme and 5 by the Scot Richard Case.  More than half of the compilation is music that was never released originally, which is great if you’re looking for really rare stuff, but not if you’re looking to have high fidelity copies of the famous records that were actually released on the label.  Also, there are several bands that recorded for A-Square whose masters cannot be located and are not represented here; the Jagged Edge, the Children and the Gang most notably.

The bottom line, however, is that this anthology is filled with a ton of highlights and is most definitely worth the $19.  It contains an early MC5 single, Looking at You/Borderline, which has been released a ton and isn’t that rare, but is great to have in this context with fantastic documentation in the liner notes.  Apparently, Holland and John Sinclair didn’t get along that well for a variety of reasons, even though Sinclair managed the group and Holland was in charge of booking them.  According to the liner notes:

Jeep:  Sinclair went into United Sound and recorded that record with Danny Dallas, then just decided to use my label name.  He designed his own A-Square label, designed his own package and just put it out.  He finally got around to informing me as the record was coming out: ‘Oh, by the way, I put the record out on A-Square.’…My label was a success, and John thought it would get his record more attention… Danny Dallas told me some wonderful stories about that session.  He said they immediately turned their amps up as loud as they could go.  Danny kept trying to tell them, ‘You don’t have to do that.  Get a good sound and I’ll boost it in here.’  But no, John Sinclair came into the control room, looked at the board and went like this [sweeping arm motion] pushing every one of the faders up all the way.  Then he ate a big chunk of hash or something and lay down on the floor while the band played. 

Let’s just say that it’s not the 5’s best moment sonically, but well worth hearing and a great addition to this collection.  Also featured here is a rare live recording of the Prime Movers.  The Movers were a highly respected blues outfit in the Ann Arbor area at the time that never released anything.  The band included Michael Erlewine, the brain behind the All Music Guide, on vocals and harmonica and a young Iggy Pop on drums.  The track here is a cover of the Yardbird’s version of I’m a Man that was used as a tape that Holland took to New York probably around ‘66 to promote the band.  It actually features Iggy on vocals instead of Erlewine and might possibly be the earliest recording of Iggy singing.  The Up’s Just Like an Aborigine is a raw-as-hell protopunk gem and another massive highlight on this disc.  Everything else not mentioned here is good if not great, making this a must have for anyone even remotely interested in psyche, garage rock, the Detroit high energy sound, or Southeast Michigan culture.

The Up’s Just Like an Aborigine:

By Max Conroy

The enigmatic and visionary electronic ‘band’ The Silver Apples will perform tomorrow night at Scrummage University.  I don’t know anything about the venue and was handed a flyer for the show, which is a photocopy of a primitive pen and ink drawing, by a group of teenagers that I befriended at the Jandek performance in Ann Arbor. 

The Silver Apples formed in New York in 1967, consisting of Simeon Coxe III (Simeon) and Danny Taylor, drums.  The duo were in a band called The Overland Stage Electric Band prior to the Apples, where band members rapidly left the group as a result of Simeon’s incorporation of a 1940s vintage audio oscillator, leaving the two.  Simeon developed a homemade instrument, the Simeon, consisting of “nine audio oscillators piled on top of each other and eighty-six manual controls to control lead, rhythm, and bass pulses with hands, feet, and elbows”(from the liner notes of their first album).  They recorded a self-titled album, released in 1968 on Kapp Records that barely cracked the top 100 and the follow up, Contact, in ‘69.  They toured to support Contact and recorded another album in 1970, but it was shelved when Kapp was devoured by MCA.  This third record would eventually be released as Garden in 1998.  The band dissolved as a result of Kapp folding and lay dormant for the next twenty-five years.

The Apples were brought back to life in 1994 when a German label TRC began issuing bootlegs of their first two records, causing a long-awaited rebirth of interest in their music.  The original records eventually were officially reissued, they toured (Coxe and a multi-instrumentalist named Xian Hawkins), and released several singles and albums in the late 90s that received favorable press.  In 1999 their tour van was involved in an accident that broke Simeon’s neck.  He’s been recovering since, but will probably never fully recover the movement of his hands, so apparently his performance is a bit more direct now.  Danny Taylor died of a heart attack in Kingston, New York in 2005.  Simeon went back on the road as a solo version of the Silver Apples in 2007 and is supposed to still put on a good show. 

This music must have been totally unpalatable in the late 60s, but it absolutely presaged the future of music and the advent of electronic music, from bands like Suicide and Kraftwork in the 70s to Detroit to Radiohead.

Oscillations:

I Don’t Care What the People Say:

From Pitchfork:  Better bring some extra cash to these shows, as Mr. Silver Apples will be peddling both a tour-only ChickenCoop Recordings LP of remastered tunes entitled Selections and a new Gifted Children Records EP called Gremlins at the merch table.

By Max Conroy

On Wednesday night, Donita Sparks and her band the Stellar Moments performed at the Magic Stick.  They were great.  Unfortunately, there had to have been less than fifty people there, even thought it was a featured event in most Detroit entertainment papers.  It’s a bummer, but those are the breaks; hopefully the turnout in Detroit wasn’t indicative of the turnout for the entire tour. 

Observing this band from a slight distance makes me like them all that much more.  They all hung out in the bar before the show and seemed approachable and even goofy.  I’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately and had a chest cold, in the middle of a heat wave, the night of the show, so I opted not to speak to anyone other than Cousin Justin, and I could hardly understand what he was saying half of the time.  Most of the band also made it a point to watch the young opening acts, and were very supportive of them.  This shows a lot of empathy and character because there is nothing more disrespectful or arrogant than not paying any attention to your opening acts.  The Stellar Moments also tuned their own instruments and did the sound check; to save costs I’m sure, but the overall sound of the show only benefitted from this simple act. 

They played a full hour set and did an encore.  The set consisted of the entire Transmiticate album and three L7 tunes.  Donita has still got it to be sure and was all over the stage shaking her ass, blonde hair a blur, gold tooth shining in the lights.  Allan the Italian was a perfect lead accompaniment to Donita and Logan’s rhythm guitar.  Dee Plakas created a driving train of sound while Dat No (probably spelled wrong) carried the rhythm.  Donita declared that the crowd was tiny, but mighty.  Everyone there loved it and was dancing instead of head banging, as Donita predicted in the interview that I did with her.  Should have been there, man.  You missed out on this one. 

I’m posting a couple of tracks from the show.  Again, a Digital Voice Recorder that has a built in mic was used, so this is hardly representative of what the show actually sounded like; the vocals were much more prevalent at the show.

Pretend We’re Dead:

Headcheck:

By Max Conroy

The Raconteurs played Saturday night at the Fillmore Detroit with the Atlanta-based garage punk revivalists the Black Lips.  All 2900 seats were accounted for, but the place didn’t seem overly packed at all.  This would probably have been a concert that I wouldn’t have thought twice about, seeing the ad in the paper or hearing about it on the radio, but a friend called me before getting tickets the day they went on sale.  What the hell, I’ll go; I like the rock and roll; I consider myself a fan of J. White even though at times I want to dislike the White Stripes.  I really like the Black Lips, particularly their 2005 record Let It Bloom, but didn’t know that they were opening until after I’d committed to the event.  No matter what you think about White’s music or his opinions regarding his music, he’s done a lot for rock and roll.  I can’t blame him for leaving Detroit either.  That said, I can pretty much take or leave the Raconteurs.

When I first heard that White was forming a band, I thought that it was a great idea: breaking away from the mold of a two-person ‘band’ where he most definitely calls the shots to working with three to four other extremely talented people, writing songs and collaborating in a super group, like they did back in the late sixties through the seventies.  I could really give two shits about Brendan Benson, based purely on ignorance, but drafting the rhythm section of the Greenhornes, bassist Jack Lawrence and drummer Patrick Keeler, made me have to take this band seriously.  I have seen these two play live probably more than any other group of musicians. 

I’ve seen several incarnations of the Greenhornes, as a four-piece and a trio, and have seen them play with Holly Golightly several times.  One of my most profound dipshit, foot-in-mouth, moments was making some boneheaded comment about how the Greenhornes weren’t all that great to Holly Golightly while smoking cigarettes outside of Kraftbrau Brewery in Kalamazoo, and she basically said, “There are a lot worse bands out there.”  About ten minutes later, the Greenhornes tore the place apart.  I’d seen them open for Golightly a few nights prior at the Magic Stick and they didn’t exactly put their best foot forward, but every time that I’ve seen them since, they have been absolutely amazing; one of the best bands I’ve ever seen.  And so much of what made them so good was their impossibly tight rhythm section; Keeler, the definition of the jazz-influenced rock drummer, killing the skins, sweat flying everywhere, drinking whiskey; and Lawrence the silent rock carrying the rhythm, his expression is comparable to Elijah Wood’s character in Sin City:  blank, verging on scary.

I got the Raconteurs first record when it came out, but never really listened to it seriously.  I also had the chance to see them a Lollapalooza a few years back, but chose to see some other band that was playing there at the same time; it might have been Sleater-Kinney playing their last non-Olympia show.  The music seems fine, and I’m not sure why I haven’t taken the time to listen to their records, maybe there just hasn’t been enough time, who knows?  So this show was a good opportunity for me to really give their music a chance.

Upon entering the Fillmore Detroit, if you are a guy, you have to empty your pockets, hold all your shit for security to go through while they frisk you.  It’s been awhile since I’ve had to do this and was somewhat freaked out by it as I did have something that would be considered contraband, which I held under my wallet, hoping they wouldn’t notice.  They were some huge fellows and seemed very good at their job.  I made the mistake of wearing a green shirt that said ‘Boston’ on it with a clover.  The guy who was about to frisk me mumbled something, and it sounded to me like, “If I find anything in your pockets, I’m going to fuck you up.”  My stomach sank as I was holding onto my wallet and contraband, hands shaking.  I quickly ripped out anything else that I had in my pockets and explained rapidly what it was.  He could tell that I misunderstood what he’d said and repeated it: “I should fuck you up for wearing that shirt.”  That I could handle.  The Pistons were just knocked out by the Boston Celtics in the conference finals.  “Oh, sorry, man.  I totally didn’t think about it.”  “You should go home and burn that shirt.”  “Oh, I will.”  My hands were still shaking when I bought a round of beer five minutes later.

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By Max Conroy 

It’s finally summer here in Michigan, the sweat pouring down my back as I type this in a coffee shop, is proof.  The air is thick, it’s hot as hell and there are tons of music-related events going on in the area; I’ll try and keep all of you hipped to what should be worthwhile and, of course, my opinions and reflections of those events.  Speaking of which, stay tuned for my write up of the Raconteurs/Black Lips show, which should be posted by tonight, or maybe tomorrow morning if any SNAFUs arise. 

Here is a track I recorded earlier today.  My friend, who wishes to remain anonymous, dusted off his Telecaster and let it fly.

PS:  The Donita Sparks show is coming up on Wednesday, which I promise will be worth the $10.

By Max Conroy

The other day I sent a letter to Jandek.  Well, I sent it to Corwood Industries; to the same post office box that’s been used by Corwood Industries/Jandek for the last thirty years.  I felt kind of lame for doing this because I thought of how many geeks like me have done it over the years.  I was also thinking about stories that I’ve heard and read about where Jandek will send radio stations and journalists interested in his music crates of records for years on end, and if at all possible I want crates of Jandek records.  I’m not sure if a shit-ton of Jandek records could possibly be healthy in any way, but I’d certainly listen to them and be obliged to review them.  Naturally, we focus on vinyl here and Corwood only makes CDs now, so I also wanted to find out if Corwood has any records lying around the apartment.  I had also seen in Jandek on Corwood that Corwood Industries would send letters in response to people searching for information about Jandek, presumably from Jandek, that have polite and firmly cryptic refusals to provide any information beyond the records: 

The story must be crafted from what you have and know from the music.  We cannot provide interviews or other exchanges of information outside of the releases at present.  It’s probable that your crafted story would be more interesting than any other.  Intrigue goes a long way sometimes.

The examples that I’ve seen of these response letters are typically written in slightly sloppy block lettering and are signed by ‘Corwood’ or ‘Your friends at Corwood’.  I wrote the letter and asked for recommended records, since there are 53 of them, any promotional material to review, and asked if they had any vinyl left.  In the letter I addressed Corwood as to whom I was writing, referring to Jandek only in the third person.  I didn’t really expect any response beyond an order form for CDs, but would love records or even a letter written in the same format that I’d seen.

This was two weeks ago approximately that I sent the letter.  I went to my mailbox today, opened it, and there was a single letter in the narrow box.  It was a letter from Corwood Industries, the address stamped in the top left corner of the envelope.  It seemed eerily appropriate that the letter seemed lonely in my mailbox, as it’s a rare day that it doesn’t get filled with a bunch of bullshit, wasted paper.  I took care in opening it, not wanting to destroy the envelope or the letter and noticed that it was written in slightly sloppy, mostly block lettering, the paper looked like it had a rough time of it at Corwood or on the way from Houston:

We literally have no vinyl to offer.  We sold all vinyl and moved to CD.  Vinyl is in production at:

Jackpot Records, 203 SW 9th Ave, Portland, OR 97205

We suggest you inquire therein.

(No Signature)

I checked out Jackpot Records online and they only offer Jandek CDs.  Perhaps I will see if they are going to manufacture Jandek vinyl.  The letter seems typical, but there was no salutation or signature.  If you’re out there, Jandek, Cousins would love to review some records or hear from you.

Click below to view the actual letter and to hear a jam off one of Jandek’s most recent platters The Myth of Blue Icicles.

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By Max Conroy  

The co-founder of the great all girl rock/metal/punk/raunch band L7, Donita Sparks, has just released her first solo record since the band’s break up eight years ago.  The amount of time between break up and solo effort might make some fans a bit skeptical as to the quality of her new material, but a lot has happened to the music industry in the past eight years, and it’s a lot more difficult to make a record these days when it’s on the artist’s dime.  Allow me to assuage any trepidation that you might have regarding this record because of how long ago 2000 seems.

I first heard that Donita Sparks and her new band the Stellar Moments were releasing a record not by Mojo or Pitchfork, but on Fresh Air with Terry Gross.  The review was by Ken Tucker, their music critic, whose reviews I greatly admire.   

I hadn’t thought about L7 for awhile, but they definitely have a place in my subconscious.  Bricks Are Heavy and Hungry for Stink are several albums that came out at that magical time for me, where development goes into overdrive and everything was confusing, troubling and magical; the junior high, early high school years.  They were big players in that soundtrack of those awesome, yet horrible times for me and most people that I can relate to now whether they realize it or not.  For example: a couple of years ago, I met a new friend and we were hanging out at his place; he was into psychobilly music and I was into protopunk at the time; the first record he put on was Bricks Are Heavy and it was the perfect choice…we both knew that we had a lot in common at that point.   

Natural Born Killers was also a polarizing experience for me when it came out; looking back on it, it seems like the A Clockwork Orange of my generation.  I can remember smoking weed out of a pop can with my two best friends on an outcropping in front of the movie theater before attempting to sneak into the film because we were underage.  Shitlist is still my favorite song on that soundtrack and the scene where Juliette Lewis puts the coin in the juke box and slices up that redneck while it plays, the most memorable in the film.

I also was lucky enough to have seen L7 on the ‘94 Lollapalooza tour at Pine Knob in Detroit when I was fourteen.  I was lucky enough to have some college-age neighbors that I grew up with who knew I was into music heavy.  When L7 went on early in the day, I remember looking to my friends and saying, “Those are some crusty bitches.  I wouldn’t mess with them.”  And that’s been my impression of them ever since; intimidation based on their hardcore stage presence.

Nostalgia in art and literature is regarded as something to be avoided at all costs.  I guess that it kills the ability to think in the present and clouds memories in a grotesque rosy hue.  But I’m a nostalgic person at times and all of this history came back to me as Terry Gross’ intro faded and the first notes of Need to Numb came through my speakers.  I had to stop what I was doing and listen.  It’s a straight ahead NY Dolls style rocker that convinced me right there before the review even began that this record has to be good.  Tucker’s review was laudatory and included clips of Creampuff, a take on the 60s girl group sound, and He’s Got the Honey, probably the most commercial song on the album; a good overview of the record.

A little while later, I acquired Transmiticate (the album title is a made-up word, combining transmit and communicate) and am quite impressed by it.  Make no mistake, it’s a departure from L7, but the evolved sound is an appropriate balance of maturity and the best of what L7 had to offer: fuzz and great hooks.  The album incorporates modern electronic effects, particularly on layered backing vocals, and the classic human/band feel beautifully.  The production by Ethan Allan is par excellance and the drums played by Dee Plakas, the only other member of L7 on the record, are fantastic, tight and big. The record successfully jumps tempos throughout and ends with a ballstothewall rocker, Into the Hi Fi.  If you are looking for new music that’s provocative, a fan of L7, or interested in supporting people out there that still give a damn about rock and roll, you should find this record.

A few weeks after hearing the review of Transmiticate on Fresh Air, I was presented with the opportunity to interview Donita in conjunction with her show here at the Magic Stick on June 11th.  I jumped at the chance, but was a bit cautious based on my teenage impression of L7.  I did some research and watched some interviews that she’s done recently and was happy to learn that she’s a seemingly normal person that probably wouldn’t put me on her shitlist and knock my teeth out if I mumbled the wrong question. 

Here’s my stellar moment with Donita Sparks…

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 By Max Conroy

My struggle lately has been that I have way too much music to listen to.  In the past year or so, I’ve had some incredible resources and have acquired more music than I could realistically listen to.  It’s obviously the result of some sort of compulsion that I have to collect things.  But records are meant to be listened to, and I feel guilty about having some of the best records ever made lying around where I’m only able to dedicate a cursory listen.  Also, my interests wax and wane like the moon, so I’ll have some records that I’ve just purchased and my interest in that genera of music will fall by the wayside, the record filed to be stumbled upon when my interest in that music reawakens.  I guess the solution is to make it a point to try and not acquire anything new.  Don’t worry, readers, I’ll have plenty of stuff to write about.

For some reason, last night I actually went through my CDs and pulled out a huge pile and pretty much froze because it was late, past midnight, and I wanted to listen to everything, but I didn’t want to be up till sunrise.  I’ve been getting back into rock and roll, from jazz fusion and soul and funk.  I had also just hooked my DVD player up through my stereo, so I wanted to be able to watch a bit of something before I went to bed, so I had to make a tough decision, but I sure as hell made the right choice.

Starship, The MC5 at the Sturgis Armory June 27, 1968 is, in my mind, the best document of the MC5 live.  Don’t get me wrong, Kick Out the Jams is a hell of a record, but it doesn’t necessarily represent the 5 accurately with regards to their live show at the time.  They knew that they were going to make a record and had to trim parts of the set, like Black to Comm and various jazz and soul medleys from their set to make a digestible product for the masses (I’m not saying they sold out to the man or anything, they do say ‘motherfucker’ in the first five minutes, before their most commercial song).  The sound on Starship is obviously from someone in the crowd, so this is how it pretty much sounded if you were standing in the Sturgis Armory.  A lot of people don’t realize that soundboard recordings aren’t necessarily the shit because they just capture the sound that’s pumped through the system and not what comes out of it. 

Where is Sturgis you ask?  It’s in southwest Michigan, not far at all from where I, and Cousin Justin, grew up.  The area now is probably a ghost town, but back in the day when muscle cars were king the place was probably still out of the way.  This show catches the 5 playing their set in all its glory in a small town and displays perfectly their mettle.  They didn’t care where they were playing or who to; when they stepped on the stage it was all over; they were going to destroy any other band that dared share that stage, no matter who it was, Cream or Led Zeppelin.

I had to put the headphones on for this one as it was late and I needed volume, so I recommend that you do the same.  Find your headphones and brace yourself…

Rama Lama Fa Fa Fa:

James Brown’s Cold Sweat:  Dig Dennis Thompson’s drumming on this track.

PS:  In my opinion the only other live performace by the 5 that rivals this is Thunder Express, a live set in a European studio.  Go figure, Cub Coda gave it two stars in AMG, haha.

By Max Conroy 

On Saturday, May 17th Jandek played a free concert at the University of Michigan’s Lydia Mendelssohn Theater.  The show was sponsored by WCBN-FM (88.3 on your FM dial), the student-run station of the University, booked by Brendt Rioux, and featured James Cornish on trumpet, Christian Matjias on harpsichord, and Biba Bell on vocals and improv dance.  Apparently this was the first Jandek performance to feature live improv dancing.  Jandek played hollow body bass and sang.  This is what’s known.

This is what’s unknown:  the identity of Jandek, the aim of his endeavors, and virtually everything about the production and meaning behind his music.  Jandek has put out fifty-three albums in thirty years.  The records range from atonal bluesy folk to thirty minute vocal-only tracks and some feature other musicians most likely (even though he does overdub tracks).  The lyrical content of his songs are most definitely poetic in nature, possibly autobiographical, and definitely surreal, causing people to speculate as to whether or not this is a sort of diary of a person suffering from mental illness or records to be enjoyed as such, art for art’s sake. 

There are only a handful of people who have ever spoken to or communicated with Jandek; and in these instances, the person is known only as a “representative of Corwood Industries.”  Corwood Industries is Jandek’s record label and in his only recorded interview, by John Trubee for Spin in 1985, featured on YouTube and as an extra on the Jandek on Corwood DVD, he discloses that he is the “sole proprietor” of Corwood, which has maintained the same PO Box in Houston since 1978.  All of his records and DVDs are purchased directly from Corwood/Jandek, cheaply, and none are sold to record stores or libraries. Jandek also mentions in that interview that at the time he was working as a machinist and living in Houston, Texas.  The name on the copyright information for Jandek’s records in the Library of Congress is Sterling Richard Smith, born in Rhode Island in 1945 (he mentions Rhode Island in several songs).  He originally recorded one record under the name The Units and sent his record to radio stations and record stores, and was forced to change the name when a guy whom he sent the record to in San Francisco threatened to sue him as that was the name of his band.  As a result he wanted to find a name that no one could possibly have, so he ended up speaking to a fellow named Dekker in January and came up with Jandek. 

The more that I research Jandek, the more his history or what he’s illuminated for us seems to be the creation of a highly intelligent, very sane person, very similar to the way a novelist comes up with material culled from his past, subconscious, and ability to tell a convincing story.  Before his days as Jandek, he allegedly wrote seven novels, which he burned after being rejected by publishers.  He tells Trubee that, “I put out a product, and that’s it.  I don’t want to get too involved.”  This smells like bullshit to me, but very good bullshit.

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By Max Conroy

I’ve been attending rock shows consistently for the past twenty years and have seen a lot of great bands, the Stones a few times, Chuck Berry, the Pixies a few times, Tom Waits, the Ramones, The Stooges; trying to list them or rate all the shows would be futile, but I can safely say that last night’s Dexateens show at the Crofoot Ballroom was one of the best show I’ve ever seen.  I can only imagine what seeing them in Tuscaloosa, headlining, would be like.  They are the closest thing to rock and roll perfection there is: technical proficiency, great songwriting, swinging swagger, shit loads of chemistry, great records, it’s all there in spades.

The Crofoot seems like a decent place to see a show, even if it is way the hell out in Pontiac: decent sound, $3 Pabst, not so surly staff.  The Dexateens opened for the Drive-By Truckers, who are riding high on the acclaim of their most recent record Brighter Than Creation’s Dark.  It’s kind of an iffy thing to go to a show specifically to see the opening act because sometimes it’s obvious that no one there has heard of the band and could care less how well they play or what they sound like and also the opener’s set is usually short.  But the Dexateens have history with the Truckers and played a plentiful set, consisting of songs off of their last three albums.  I don’t typically jock musicians if I see them hanging around by the merch table after shows out of courtesy to them.  They’re people like you and me and probably appreciate adoration, but I don’t want to be ‘that guy’, the annoying fucker looking to suck as much blood from these people as possible to obtain fodder for their blog. 

But for me the Dexateens are different.  Their music blows me away and I respect the situation they’re in, playing music for the sake of the music, not for the pussy, not for the drugs, not for the fame, certainly not for the money but because they have to do this.  So after their blistering set, I raided the merch table, picked up their tour CD, a CD that’s one member, Elliott McPherson’s acoustic take on Kiss’ Destroyer album, a shirt, and Hardwire Healing, their only record I didn’t have on vinyl.  The dude working the table who apparently works at the 40 Watt in Athens, GA, offered to have the band sign it and gave it to their bass player Matt Patton who passed it around to the rest of the band.  I spoke with Patton for awhile, trying not to sound like a teenage girl confronting their favorite teen mag idol.  We did a shot of Jack, which I usually steer clear of because a whiff of it can make me aggressive, bordering on violent, and grooved to the Truckers’ cover of Alice Cooper’s 18.  I must say that he is positively one of the most gracious people I’ve ever met.  I also spoke with their guitarist and vocalist John Smith briefly who seemed real nice and happy to have some fans in the tundra.  Patton said that pretty much the only way they’re able to travel this far north is because of the Truckers letting them open for them and that they all have day jobs.  It’s truly a bummer that they aren’t getting rich off their shows and records, but that’s the way it is, so let’s pray to God that they can keep it up!

Oh yeah, I also snuck my digital camera into the show.  I apologize for the quality of the footage, as I had the camera held at chest level for fear of a roided up bouncer confronting me and smashing it or my face or worse yet kicking me out of the show.  Also, the sound is a bit muddy as it’s a cheap Casio digital camera.

 By Max Conroy

Hong Kong Blues by Hoagy (ne Hoagland) Carmichael was recorded for Decca in 1942; he penned it and recorded it in ‘39 originally.   It’s a unique side recorded by one of the most highly regarded song writers of the first part of the last century.  Two of his biggest hits were Georgia on My Mind and the A side of this single Stardust. 

The song is a cautionary drug tale about “a very unfortunate colored man who got arrested down in old Hong Kong…for kicking Buddha’s gong.”  Kicking Buddha’s gong is a dated term for smoking opium. It took me a second to realize what he was singing about when I first heard the song.  It’s fairly subtle till the end of it where he actually mentions opium.  He doesn’t mention any specifics about the drug or his habit, only that he cannot leave Hong Kong for his home, which he tells everyone is in San Francisco, but is actually in Tennessee.  The geographic centering of the song is kind of strange in that he’s not from San Francisco but later in the song where Carmichael switches from the narrator’s third person to the first person testimonial, he keeps mentioning San Fran as his home.  Also, how would an unfortunate brother end up in Hong Kong in the 1930s? 

All of this gives one the impression that Hong Kong is opium addiction itself.  The only specific moment where you can really put yourself in his shoes is where he sings:

“Won’t someone believe me/I have a yen to see that bay again/But when I try and leave/Sweet opium won’t let me fly away.“ 

He’s asking his fellow opium enthusiasts in the den to take his desire to quit drugs seriously, but he’s obviously ignored. Also, the use of the word ‘yen’ is a pun here as it comes from the Chinese words for ‘addiction’ and ’smoke’.  Carmichael once described his voice “…as the way a shaggy dog looks…I have Wabash fog and sycamore twigs in my throat.”  His inflection and the first person voice in the middle of the song made me assume that Carmichael was black, so I was surprised to see a picture of him, white as can be.  Another strange thing about this song is that it’s difficult to discern exactly when he’s singing this in relation to his incarceration.  He doesn’t lament getting arrested and still has hope that he’ll make it home, so I’m inclined to think that he’s speaking before he got arrested. 

In the chorus he sings that he needs someone to love him.  When I first heard this, I thought that it was such a 1930s view of drug addiction that finding a good woman could save you from yourself and drugs, but if you listen to the rest of it, he’s asking to find someone that loves him so they can take his body back home.  Pretty grim stuff.  There’s also a part where he begs for fifty dollars to get home with, but one is left with the impression that he’d blow it on dope.

This music is great for the depressant glow of a burgeoning alcohol buzz, alone.  The white jazz comes out a bit more on Stardust, but it’s still worth a listen eighty-one years after it was written.

Hong Kong Blues:

Stardust:

by Max Conroy 

If you refer to my post about the jazz flute, you know that I’m just getting into soul/funk-jazz/fusion.  I’m crazy about the stuff.  It’s also allowed my formerly tepid interest in hip-hip to expand slightly.  It’s like punk rock for me; not the music of course but how I view it.  Some of my favorite music, proto-punk, is the music that led directly to the development of punk rock, but I really don’t like straight punk all that much.  I love the Dead Boys and the Sex Pistols, but both bands were badass rock and roll acts before they were punk.  I love all of this music that’s been sampled a ton or could be sampled if it hasn’t but can take or leave the hip-hop that’s made it famous, so far at least.  As my obsession has grown for the (I’ll call it fusion, to incorporate soul/funk-jazz) fusion over the past few weeks, I’ve purchased a shit ton of great records and thank God some of it can be found cheaply. 

I’d heard of the Ramsey Lewis Trio, but that was probably from hearing them mentioned by NPR DJs a split second, before I slammed the radio off in disgust before my appreciation of fusion.  I totally thought that they were venerated by jazzbos and that they were classic bop, but how wrong I was.  Justin hooked me up with a rough copy of the In Crowd, which is apparently an early soul-jazz classic.  After digging the album, I also noticed that reissues of it are advertized in Waxpoetics, and have noticed the record at numerous shops and online.  I thought that the record would be pricey, but since it obviously sold well for a jazz record and was on Chess’ Argo imprint, it’s insanely cheap.  Like you would pay three times what an OG copy would cost to get the reissue.  Dig the ‘In’ Crowd…

I also recently picked up Ramsey Lewis’ Sun Goddess for cheap.  The cover alone is worth the money, but the music could have been sold in a paper bag and it’d still be sweet.  It’s ten years after the In Crowd and the funk had dropped in the meantime, and it’s obvious on this record, that Lewis was hip to it.  Check out Sun Goddess, Livin’ For the City (the S. Wonder jam) and Jungle Strut…

On the Blue side of things; some Blue Note records from the periphery of their dark days can be got fairly cheaply too.  Some of these records sold very well, which makes them easy to find and cheap, but not bad at all.  For instance, Donald Byrd’s Black Byrd (the best selling record in the entire Blue Note catalogue) and Byrd’s Best are about $10 records; the cover of Black Byrd, depicting a black wedding or hoedown of some sort, ca. 1890 is worth it, and the music’s funky as can be, slightly dated, but that’s a large part of the appeal for me.  I recently acquired Grant Green’s Alive! album, which is a live gig recorded in a small club with Idris Muhammad tearing the place up on drums, for $10.  I’m not as much of a purist as the Cousins and will pick up a reissue or a comp here and there, and found a Grant Green record that was part of the Blue Note Breakbeats series for under $10.  Sometimes on these records, as with every record, there are bum tracks, but it seems more common for jazz records to me, so a comp with six of the most notable tracks by someone can be a good thing.  But I don’t necessarily think that’s true for Grant Green; I’m willing to bet that anything he did in ‘70 and ‘71 with Idris Muhammad on drums is good throughout.  Ronnie Laws‘ Pressure Sensitive must have also sold a shitload because it’s everywhere and it’s cheap.  One of my dad’s buddies gave me his record collection when I was about fifteen.  There were about fifty or so records, all early 70s stoner rock…and Pressure Sensitive.  It’s like the fusion Frampton Comes Alive, but way cooler.  Here are Grant Green’s Sookie Sookie (the Don Covay song) and Ronnie Laws’ Nothing to Lose…

 by Max Conroy

I first heard about the Third Power on this site a long time ago when the Cousins did a write up about their bass player Jem Targal in response to finding a signed copy of his rare solo album Luckey Guy.  I downloaded Believe, the only album released by the Third Power and didn’t feel too bad about it because of the album’s obscurity; I believe that it isn’t too hard to track down on CD though.  The download that I got was ripped from a record and the guy recorded the second side first, which I didn’t realize till finding the vinyl a few weeks ago.  It doesn’t get much better than this if you’re looking for an aggressive, Grande-era Detroit power trio.  I’ve scoped this record every now and then for the past few years on EBay and it seems like every copy that I’ve seen was in Europe, which is odd since it only sold about 16,000 copies, mostly in the Detroit area.

Like the record itself, information regarding the band is pretty rare.  For the most part everything out there is very basic and states that the band formed in Detroit in the late 60s, were very loud, had a cult following, released one record, it flopped, they went their separate ways, the guitarist Drew Abbott went to play lead for Seger’s Silver Bullet Band, and Jem recorded Luckey Guy in the late 70s.  I did find an early biography of Jem Targal, their lead singer and bassist, on someone’s personal website.  The biography reads a bit strange, almost like it’s Targal speaking in the third person (pardon the pun).  According to the site, Targal was born in Ann Arbor, his father studied and taught at the University of Michigan, and when he was young his father accepted a position at the American University of Istanbul and moved his entire family there: ”There were seven families, all related, living in the house together.  Targal’s grandfather, a retired general, was there.  So, too, was Targal’s uncles.  One had been the head of NATO forces for seveal years; the other uncle was a professional wrestler.”  Sounds like a trip, man.  His family moved back to the Detroit area in 1951 and eventually many years later he met Abbott at Oakland Community College in a speed reading class.  Abbott taught Targal the bass and they formed several groups, met their drummer Jim Craig, a solid powerful drummer, and came up with the name the Third Power in the van on the way to their first show together at a club called the Fifth Dimension (a popular venue that had featured Hendrix and the Yardbirds).  Power trio…trio…third…third…power…like to the third power, man…get it?  The band moved into a farmhouse on Haggarty road, between 12 and 13 mile roads.  They were known for having massive parties at their place where rock icons like Rod Stewart and Badfinger would hang out.  The band kept playing around and became very popular in the Detroit area, playing shows with local acts like the Rationals, Seger, and the MC 5.  They signed with Vanguard, who also featured another Detroit act of the era the Frost, in 1969.  The album was produced by poet and blues scholar Sam Charters and came out in 1970.

I almost shit my pants when I saw it in the stack at Encore.  They pile up their new arrivals on the floor against the bins, in front of the register.  I was in there a few days prior to finding it and noticed that they had a massive pile of new arrivals and quickly paid for whatever I had gone in there to find, so as not to be tempted by whatever was in the new stacks.  A few days later I was walking in the neighborhood and decided to go back to see what was left in that pile, and there it was, perfect, in the shrink, bronze Vanguard label.  I bought that and Grant Green’s Alive! for $30 and the dude working there said bye to me using my name off of my credit card.  Respect, mon.  Irie!  I got it for $20; the price guide says $30 mint, but Popsike lists anywhere from $50 to $250 previously on EBay. 

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by Max Conroy

I was at the Cousins’ warehouse this weekend, hanging out, looking through piles of records that were in too poor shape to sell, talking about music.  We found tons of cool stuff and unfortunately it won’t be available to you guys out there because they’d like to provide you with the best records available.  Perhaps email them or reply to a post if anyone out there is willing to have a less than perfect copy of a hard to find record.  One of the records that Geoff pulled out was by Jimmy McCracklin.  I’d heard the name but knew nothing about him.  Later that day Justin threw on his Twist with Jimmy McCracklin album.  It was definitely good, but we were hanging out, talking, not paying too much attention to anything.  It definitely didn’t sound like Chubby Checker.

The next day, I went to Encore to get some paper sleeves for the records they graciously let me have and casually looked at the first stack I saw, and there was Jimmy McCracklin’s My Answer record.  I really didn’t want to spend the money; $10 isn’t going to break the bank, but you know how it is, the end of the month and all.  So I walked around holding the record not convinced that I’d buy it, but not ready for anyone else to walk off with it.  I dropped the needle on the record, looking around the shop, earphones on, with the feeling that I’m on the inside looking out, through a fish bowl.  Hiss, pop.  All of a sudden $10 was put into perspective, it wasn’t a problem.  Jimmy McCracklin was worth whatever I would have spent the money on, including food or tobacco.

McCracklin was born in 1921…and still performes!  He cut his first record in 1945, ya know, back at the birth of the atomic age.  That would make him 45 years-old back in 1966 when My Answer came out.  I’m not sure if the record is supposed to be a greatest hits record or if Liberty records slapped a bunch of previously released songs around the title track, but I know some of the songs are on other records and the title track was released as a single the same year the record came out.  Anyway, I digress.  The music can’t be beat and is surprisingly broad in its variety.  When I read that it was a comp, I thought that it must have been over several years, but he was only on Liberty in ‘65 and ‘66.  The music is strange in that it’s soul, it’s blues, it’s funk, it’s so much all of these things that it’s almost difficult to pin down right away.  The first song, the title cut, is a Southern soul ballad about leaving a woman with a letter, ending it with, “I’m sorry for you”.  Meaning, I’m sorry for what you fucked up and that you’ll die alone, not I feel bad.  The second song Beulah is the one that really caught my attention.  James Brown and Dyke were hammering out the finishing touches of their grooves on the anvil of funk when this was made and it’s pretty much as funky as what they were doing at the time.  McCracklin’s drummer doesn’t seem like he gets the picture but he’s trying his best in a jazzy sort of way.  The next song, Every Day, Every Night, is a straight Jimmy Reed-style blues number.  Magic Sam later did a cover of it and it’s obvious that McCracklin was an influence.  All of these styles on this record are done so well that it’s mind blowing. 

My Answer:

Beulah:

Every Day, Every Night:

by Max Conroy:

The Go’s latest album Howl On the Haunted Beat You Ride is a fantastic record that doesn’t seem to get much credit, and I live in the land where it was made.  Shamefully, until I moved to back to Michigan this past August I’d never heard of them and the way that I heard of them was from a magazine published in the UK, Mojo.  Mojo gave the record a four star review and the write up was good; garage, overlooked band, Detroit, etc.  There was also a picture of the record’s cover accompanying the review that pretty much guaranteed that I’d look for it.  It’s perfectly psychedelic: two huge hipster faces with lifeless hipster expressions, flanking the jacket; the entire band arranged vertically in the center of it, all wearing black or stripes; their far out logo in the upper left; a brown and orange, early mid 60s to early 70s, color motif; all of this on a hazy blanket of stars.  I know being interested in a record because of its packaging might be a bit careless, but this record is so cool looking and feeling that I’d be happy to own it even if the music sucked, which it most certainly doesn’t.  It’s on Cass records (Cass is a street/area in Detroit for all you non-local readers), which I’ve never heard of, but they totally knocked the ball out of the park on this one.  It’s a gatefold with super heavy boards, it feels like it’s a record made in the 50s, and has great graphics pasted inside along with the lyrics. 

The Go formed in Detroit in 1998.  Jack White was an early member of the band and is featured on their debut Whatcha Doin’, playing lead guitar and singing back up.  I had read somewhere that they kicked Jack White out of the band, which would be one to tell the grandchildren: Yeah, I was in a band back in the day…and we kicked Jack White out of the group…We could have been rich!  I’m pretty sure that he just left the band because he didn’t want to be a sideman.  I have no idea if there is any bad blood as a result of the split, but the Go wasn’t on the White compiled fantastic comp. Sympathetic Sounds of Detroit.  There is footage the Go out there playing live during the JW era on an obscure movie called the Detroit Rock Movie, which also has footage of JW jamming Stop Breakin’ Down in his tiny Detroit apartment.  If any of you out there have a copy of this movie, I’d be happy to receive one; please respond to this post.  Anyway, Whatcha Doin’ was released on Sub Pop and is a great debut record on the noisy side of the garage.  They made a follow up for Sub Pop called Free Electricity that was never released because it was allegedly too heavy, which has to be bull shit…too heavy for Sub Pop?  I found a copy of it on Soulseek and it’s definitely worth finding.  I think there were other reasons Sub Pop shelved it though; one song starts with the lyric, “Big cock angel”.  They were ultimately dropped from Sub Pop and put out a more focused rehashing of 60s garage and 70s glam on Lizard King, called The Go.  The group then waited four years to put out another record, the brilliant Howl on the Haunted On the Haunted Beat You Ride, which AMG has listed as coming out in April of 2007, but I’m pretty sure it was more like late summer and they still haven’t reviewed it.

Howl On the Haunted Beat You Ride represents the Go fully coming into their own.  The music is derivative of 60s psych and 70s glam to be sure, but they certainly make it theirs.  The production on this record is simply amazing and it was produced by Bobby Harlow, their front man, in Detroit.  The album utilizes clean tones, trippy imagery, and classic CSN-like harmonies with great effect (and I really dislike CSN).  The bizarro-poetic title comes from the song Yer Stoned Italian Cowboy, a romp about an irresitible character that “shoots directly from the Id”.  Fucking brilliant!  In my opinion, there’s only one bum track on this record and that’s the lead off song called You Go Bangin’ On, which was released as a single, so I might be missing something.  But don’t listen to the first thirty seconds of this record and file it away.  I bought this record seven months ago and the Go haven’t played around here since to my knowledge, until this past Saturday where they played at Gold: a fund raiser for the Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit.

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