Category Archive

By Max Conroy

There are several definitions of the word scrummage.  It is synonymous to a rugby play called a ’scrum’, but also means ‘a general row or confused fight or struggle’.  A scrum can also, according to the Brits, mean ‘a place or situation of confusion and racket; hubbub’, which seems like the closest definition to the venue in Detroit.  Here is their mission statement from their site (do not click on this link if you have or might possibly have epilepsy): A psychedelic loft in Detroit’s Eastern Market district.  We achieve maximum fun.  We have giant parties with totally rad music encompassing all generas.  We teach you here at our university that no one is too stuffy to party.  This is the place where all your wildest dreams can come true.  There is apparently a market in Detroit’s Eastern Market district, but there’s no evidence of it at night; in fact, there doesn’t seem to be anything besides a graveyard, bombed out buildings, and the occasional liquor store and gas station…and this place. 

Scrummage University is a huge warehouse that must have been a toy factory at one time, based on the painted signage on the front of the building.  I drove by it a few times before coming to the conclusion that this must be the place.  There were several flyers that mentioned that it’s the large building that has ‘Toys’ painted on the front of it, but not the flyer that I had.  The flyers also stated that the event was to begin at 9PM, which is when I arrived, but there was no one there, except for a few people running the show and the performers.  Also, there is no mention of the Silver Apples playing at Scrummage on the venue’s site, so I’d seek other verification that a band will be there before driving through post-apocalyptic Detroit to get there. 

The Scrummage gate is barely wide enough for a car to fit through and is situated next to an operational junk yard; I deduced that it was operational based on the five rabid dogs hurling themselves at the fence, attempting to kill hipsters.  The parking lot is huge with weeds thriving in the cracks of the asphalt, an active train line in back, and several huge bonfire pits.  I walked around for a bit, soaking up the scenery, snapping photos, as other guests arrived.  After awhile, I noticed that everyone had 40s of beer, and asked the door guy Ian if it was cool to bring beer here: ‘Sure, man.  You should pick me up something.’  He gave me some shoddy directions to a liquor store, but I ended up finding a different one that had all the choice malt liquor and grabbed a 40 of Olde English and Ian a 24oz of Cammo XXX High Gravity for the shitty directions; he was thrilled.

By this time they were throwing huge pieces of furniture into the fire pit and igniting them.  When the fire would get low, they, presumably ‘official’ events organizers, would politely ask some people to get off of the wardrobe they were sitting on and then drag it into the fire.  This place is the ultimate in blind pigs, anything goes. 

You enter the warehouse through a defunct loading dock and enter into a wide open concrete room, piles of debris in the corners and outsider art everywhere.  There is a working bathroom that isn’t the worst that I’ve ever seen.  From what I gather, people live at Scrummage, so they probably rent the space, or maybe even squat there.  The electric hair trimmer in the bathroom also made me think that people live there. 

The opening act Benny Stoofy is kind of Scrummage’s house band.  They are some talented musicians that blend the low fi aesthetic with competence, much like Dr. Dog.  I dug a few songs and then went back to the bonfire with my 40 to chat up some people and enjoy the evening.

The Lotto Ball Show went on next.  They’re a synth-driven postpunk outfit from Chicago.  They seemed good, but the vocals were noexistent in the mix, so I again headed out to the fire after about two songs.

I went back inside after the music stopped to look at the unattended merch table and to watch people climb dangerously onto makeshift trapezes hanging from the ceiling.  Simeon, a perfectly normal looking fellow in his mid-to-late 60s, dressed in a bright green turtleneck, strolled across the floor to his rig and began calibrating or whatever one has to do to a pile of oscillators and beat machines to prepare them for a performance.

The Silver Apples are Simeon now.  He manipulates bass and melody sound oscillators over drum tracks, and sings: that’s the sound of The Silver Apples in 2008.  After listening to some of their records recently, I’ve come to really appreciate the late Danny Taylor’s drumming.  He lays down a hardcore breakbeat jazz style that really propels the monotonous vocals and bleeps and bloops.  But the music is essentially electronic music and the last thirty years of music has proven that a drummer isn’t absolutely necessary.  The lack of a drummer has actually transformed the Silver Apples sound into what it inspired: electronic dance music.  It’s fitting to see one of the pioneers of electronic music performing this way to the city that basically took what he was doing eons ago and went crazy with it. 

Simeon played for exactly an hour and politely declined an encore; this isn’t exactly encore-type music.  He performed a lot of the ‘hits’ like Oscillations and I Don’t Care What the People Say and did a handful of new compositions.  In the middle of the set, about twenty people got on stage a danced their freaky, uninhibited dances.  I went back to the merch table and bought the only Apples vinyl available: a limited press of 1000 called Selections from the Early Sessions.  I then went up to Simeon’s rig and snapped a picture of it just before he went up to it to tear it down.  I said, “Thanks, man.”  “It’s a pleasure,” said Simeon.

Click Below for information about the Selections record, some audio of the show, and pictures.

Read the rest of this entry »

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.

Read the rest of this entry »

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…

Read the rest of this entry »

 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

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:

Following up on the post I did the other day about the Dexateens new album available as a free download, I have some great news.  They are indeed coming to Michigan.  I forwarded the album download site to Uncle Fucker and low and behold two days later he emails me back that he is planning on coming all the way from Grand Rapids to see them in Detroit.  This guy definately doesn’t go out of his way to see live music anymore, so it takes someone like the Stones for him to make the effort.  As a matter of fact in the thirteen years that I’ve known him the only show that I’ve ever seen with him has been the Rolling Stones.  But anyway, they’ll be playing at the Crofoot Ballroom in Pontiac on May 6th, opening for the Drive-By Truckers.  I recommend getting your tickets soon because the Truckers new album is getting a lot of press.

Ann Arbor punk band The Cult Heros were led by Hiawatha Bailey on vocals, and reached their punkness peak in the late 70s and early 80s.  They brought it, playing hard, raw, and loud.  I still see Hiawatha hanging around the Blind Pig these days; he’s one of those larger than life characters who you have to see meet in person to appreciate. 

This is off the Cruisin’ Ann Arbor comp. LP.

listen to Lexington:

As I’ve mentioned, I’m reading John Sinclair’s book, Guitar Army, about the revolutionary White Panther party and the band that he managed that helped start the revolution, Ann Arbor’s the MC5.

Sinclair formed the White Panther party as a response to the involvement of cops, politicians, teachers, parents, and the rules of society; to promote a healthy involvement in an equal proportion of rock and roll, dope, and fucking in the streets.  He describes near riots happening at places like the Hideout and Grande Ballroom in Detroit when young rock and roll fans would be arrested for smoking joints outside the venues.  The MC5 responded one night by beginning the show with the now legendary, “KICK OUT THE JAMS MOTHERFUCKER!”, to hysterical response.

It was the censorship of rock and roll youth’s consciousness that infuriated Sinclair and thousands of other “long hairs”, “hippies” or “freeks”.  Thanks to the help of a steady dose of pot and LSD, they demanded that they be left alone to form a collective utopian community of music, drugs, and free sex.  Not suprisingly, the cops, politicians, teachers and parents who they rebelled against considered Sinclair’s followers to be major threats to society.  They weren’t contributing much of anything except loud music, promiscious sex, and plently of drug use.  But underlying it all was the cry of love, that this movement’s purpous was to, as the song goes, c’mon people now, smile on your brother (or sister), everybody get together and love one another right now.  Keep in mind, John Sinclair and the revolution promoted this in the 60s in the midst of heavy racial tension (the song Motor City is Burning is about the Detroit riot of ‘68), and certainly did not exclude race in any way, equally encouraging people to enjoy the music of the MC5 , Rationals, SRC, the Up, the Third Power, ect, along with John Coltrane, Pharoah Sanders, Archie Shep, Mile Davis, and of course, the blues.

It’s ironic then, despite this rebellion against cencorship, that The MC5’s first album, titled Kick Out The Jams on Elektra, would first have the liner notes written by Sinclair taken out, and then later the lyrics changed from “kick out the jams motherfucker”, to “kick out the jams brothers and sisters.”  I own the original completely uncensored album - which is actually quite rare as Elektra must have pulled them fairly early on.

I’d have to research more as to how this came about, and what Sinclair’s reaction was, but I’d be interested to find out.  Maybe if I keep reading Guitar Army I’ll find out.

A part of what made the MC5 were those lyrics.  Censorship had to be destroyed, freedom had to be obtained.  To have both the notes (which Sinclair talks about the revolution and movement), and the word “motherfucker” removed seems like it would have been a complete slap in the face to the MC5, the power of the people, and the power of the people’s music.  It does, however, show you how influencial bands like the MC5 were towards the progress of freedom of expression - to have those liner notes and lyrics removed in today’s time would be unheard of (unless two versions were released for sales at a major superstore like Target or Meijers).

to part of the original unsensored version of Kick Out The Jams.

I have mentioned John Sinclair and his book Guitar Army in previous posts.

I was given a copy of the book recently and I started reading it last night.  I can tell already it will be a must-read book for anyone interested in both the history of Ann Arbor-Detroit area rock and roll and also the history of the 60s and 70s social revolution in the Ann Arbor-Detroit area.

So far, I love Sinclair’s writing style.  It is very Kerouac-like in stream of conscienceness, with long, excited, jazz-like passages.  He began the book by describing the music he grew up listening to that influenced the 60s and 70s rock and roll movement: 1950s artists and groups, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Elvis, Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers, The Moonglows - he made the pages come alive with images of 45s spinning, rebellious teenagers dancing, the music jumping out at me in rhythm, putting the songs in my head.  It actually made it hard to sleep afterwords.  He described the youth’s consciousness as being off-limits to anyone with supposed authority, and with this birth of this incredible new rock and roll music out there, they had little interest for anything else.  It reminds me again of Robert Jr. Whitall, founder of Big City Rythym and Blues magazine, who was himself a John Sinclair follower, telling me about how much they loved the blues and black music in general in those days - and that is what inspired the Ann Arbor-Detroit punk based rock and roll, which is still being emulated by today’s local bands.

Another exciting part of the book is that it comes with a CD of rare recordings of speeches and music by bands and influencial leaders during the time of the movement he was leading.  I noticed it has Allen Ginsberg’s “Prayer For John Sinclair” as well as “Free John Sinclair Now” by the band Up!.  We actually had a copy of a 45 that had “Prayer” on one side and “Free” on the other on a private label.  We came across it a couple years ago and foolishly sold it - for good money - but now of course I wish I had it to display on this site.

Anyway, when I am done reading it I’ll post an official review - I’m just excited about starting it.  Justin is anxious to read it after I’m done.

Apparently, he lives in Amsterdam, hangs out at his favorite cafe everyday, controls the jukebox, and then hosts an internet radio program.

It’s funny, because his name keeps popping up around me.  First, I noticed an ad for one of his latest blues CDs in Big City Rhythm and Blues magazine, called Fattening Frogs For Snakes, Country Blues Vol. 2.  Then, I read about the White Panther party that he formed and the havoc they caused in Ann Arbor in early 70s, according to a text book about the history of Ann Arbor I found in the school I work at that was written for elementary school students.  The author obviously disliked Sinclair’s work, whipping up a mental picture of long haired hippies turing the city upside down with their far left radical views that threatened the state of good ol’ Ann Arbor the way Allen and Rumsey had dreamed it up when they purchased the original acreage along the Huron River.

I can picture him there at the 420 cafe in Amsterdam, a group of stoned disciples gathered ’round, listening to tales of the good ol’ days of the music of the MC5, overthrowing the Ann Arbor government, and fighting unjust drug laws.

Joihn Sinclair authored the book Guitar Army, named after a Rationals song, that tells the story in his words of what was going on at that time.  It was recently reissued.  I think I’ll check it out, I haven’t read it.

Great article in the free press about Iggy and the Stooges playing Friday at the Fox Theatre in downtown Detroit, promoting their new The Weirdness album.

I wrote a blog a few months ago about this, if you want to read a few more tidbits about Iggy.  Here’s a poster print for a concert at Farmington High School (slightly less awesome of a venue than the Fox) promoting their Funhouse album around 1970 (for sale in our store):

Iggy is a fascinating character.  The Stooges/Iggy’s official website has photos of Iggy that always amaze me.  How can someone who has abused his body for so long with drugs and alcohol look like that?  And it’s the strangest thing, because his face looks like he’s 70, but he’s got the ripped body of a college athlete.  I wonder what he does to keep fit like that?  Or is is just natural, like he’s a rock star superhero?

And did you know that Iggy grew up in a trailer park in Ypsilanti?  He’s right up there with Lee Osler as our most famous homegrown music stars.  But I doubt Iggy has ever written a song about Ypsilanti, so Lee is still #1 in my book.

Ypsilanti’s own Iggy Pop and the Stooges are lined up to play a live gig at the Fox in downtown Detroit on April 13th.

Their self titled 1969 debut album is absolutely fantastic and worth investigating.  It was very influencial to modern punk and metal.   There is also a big blues influence that is very common amongst Detroit rock n roll.  I hung out one time with the founder of Big City Blues magazine, Robert Jr. Whitall and he said all the old Detroit rock groups like the Stooges, MC5, the Rationals, SRC, the Frost, ect, were all listening to the blues.  He said, “Back then, the MC5 and all those guys, we were all listening to the blues!  People don’t realize that punk music came from the blues.”  Well, the Stooges led the way and this show should be fantastic.

In another related story, Richard used to tell me stories about hanging out and partying out of his mind with Iggy and the boys in the late 60s. We have this poster print for sale in our store.  Pretty sweet, is for a show at Farmington High School back when they were just another local band.  Richard said that at this show Iggy ended up puking in the girls bathroom at some point in the night.

jsREVIEW: 

For some reason, the Stooges always get the nod when playing the “Godfathers of Punk” sweepstakes. I know, I know, I wanna be your dog too, but I’m not arguing against the Stooges, I’m arguing for the MC5.

Even though this single, being radio-ready, starts off with “Kick out the jams, brothers and sisters” rather than the better-known intro, it still shows how far away from the rest of the world Detroit was during the late ’60s. This is no Woodstock, no gentle psychedelia. This is raw, explosive blues rock that puts better-known folks like Cream and Led Zep to shame. Sure, they were virtuosos in a way that no one in the MC5 was, but “Kick Out The Jams” is the sound of a dual-pipe Mustang to their Aston Martin.

Recorded live, neither side is the picture of audio clarity, but when they sang “The Motor City’s burnin’, ain’t nothing no one can do,” they hit with with the kind of truth that left The Clash to pick up the aftershocks some ten years later. Vietnam, race riots, assassinations, SDS, it’s all here. Along with the slinky sex that comes from the rolling electric blues.

If there’s ever been one single that summed up Detroit rock, this is it. If there’s ever been an essential punk single, this is it. And if there’s ever been a rock album that still connects politically, this is it. Fucking, fighting, drugs and guitars. What more could you want?

CLICK TO VIEW eBay LISTING