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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 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.
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.
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.
Every Day, Every Night:
by Max Conroy:
It doesn’t sound like it’d be all that great, hanging out at an Elks lodge on a Friday night, but it’s not at all what you’d expect. This place is sweet, positively the coolest bar, club, venue, night spot I’ve been to since I’ve moved to Ann Arbor. There may be better places to go in this area, but I can’t imagine it.
My friend rents a huge house from the Elks. It’s on a hill overlooking the city; it’s large, seemingly affordable, and right next to the lodge. We ate dinner at her place and had a few beers, we’d already been at the Old Town for a good number of rounds, and she proposed that we should go the Elks for a beer. I was down. I mean shooting the shit with a bunch of older dudes in funny hats sounds like a good time to me, but I was not prepared for this place.
It’s an old school black Elks lodge, patronized by a bunch of real nice fun loving, soulful dudes. The bar is downstairs and the rules for the guests are posted on a huge sign on the ceiling of the stairway as you enter, gents must remove their hats upon entering. I guess it’s a three dollar cover, but we got by because we know their tenant. The ambiance of the place is enough to make it a cool spot: salmon colored walls, orange vinyl booths, a dark cavernous feel, a vintage bar, and a cozy dance floor packed with hipsters. Heinekens are three bucks and the DJ spins old and new soul, funk and hip hop; it was great to hear Sharon Jones’ What Have You Done for Me Lately blaring through the place followed by James Brown’s Sex Machine. It’s a shame that I don’t dance or if I do I have to be in a state where I can’t possibly remember it. I held down the booth and sipped my Heineken while my people hit the dance floor, digging the scene, choking on smoke, loving watching the Elks get down, hanging out and serving drinks. As we left, they were closing the doors presumably because the place was to capacity, so get there before one AM. I’ll definitely be coming back to this place.
The Elk’s lodge also has live jazz on Mondays and Tuesdays and is open to the public on Fridays and Saturdays to swing from the rafters. I also believe that they host barbecues, which I’d love to check out.
jsREVIEW:
I can only imagine how weird it would have been to be an avant garde band in Hamburg, Michigan during the early ’80s. I suspect, first of all, that the Inserts were not just an avant garde band, but rather THE avant garde band of 1983.
Sounding heavily influenced by the No Pussyfooting collaboration between Eno and Fripp, this quartet plays mostly guitar synthesizers (and note explicitly that there aren’t any keyboard synthesizers on the album), with a Rhodes for a touch of jazz fusion.
From tracking down Marc Taras, who is thanked in the credits and now works at local shop PJ’s Records, the main halmark of the band was its spontaneous and improvisational nature. They’d roar into the studio, start the tapes and jam, splicing anything that worked back together post hoc. Rather than ending up disjointed, the album feels spacious and anxious with broad washes of taut guitar tones playing over jittery post-punk bass work.
Clean and “modern” sounding, there’s a fairly dystopic sci-fi sound to the ordeal, like Vangelis’s Blade Runner without the plot. Still, for fans of bands like Cluster, Eno & Fripp, or even Psychic TV, there’s a lot to love about The Inserts, and you’ll never see this disc for sale again.
(Having learned that one of the members of the band, then going by birth name Mark Murrell, is now WCBN DJ Ed Special, look to this space once Cousins Vinyl can get him to talk about the album!)
