Consolidating, updating, and adding some Jobim albums into a new post. Better rips/bitrates for the reruns. ELIS & TOM is highly recommended.
Brighton Polytechnic. 26th March 1977.
Stereo. TG rating 3/10 (Fanatics only).
‘Last Exit’ – TG’s answer to the Sex Pistols ‘God Save the Queen’. Opens with a sampled American commentary on nuclear survival and a conversation over a two-way radio.
“Fuck off / Fuck off cunt… / And then he hit me with a brick… / Right under the poster / And I fell in the mud / I said ‘Don’t kill me’ / Then he hit me with a brick / Then he hit me with a brick again / Then the blood went out of my cheeks / Then the blood hit the ground and it mingled with the mud / The blood and the mud mingling under the poster / And I looked up at the poster / I looked up and saw the poster / It was a picture of Prince Philip / Prince Philip was fucking the Queen / Prince Philip was fucking the Queen / And the Queen was going ‘Again, do it again, Philip, please Philip, fuck me Philip’… / Got on the Central Line / Came up to these two kids / And the two kids kicked me in the teeth / I spat out three teeth / And I looked up / And I looked up at the poster… / And I looked at Prince Philip / And he was kicking me in the teeth / And the Queen was saying ‘Fuck me again Philip’… / And he said ‘Don’t hit me with that brick. Don’t suck my prick / Poster / Fuck off / Fuck off.”
The voice used on Slug Bait is that of a young Canadian killer, who was serving life for murdering a young girl whilst he was still only a teenager.
“The final track is thee voice of thee DJ yelling at thee AUDIENCE, part of whom had attached thee PA and other audience members to try and stop TG playing anymore. A minor riot. Thee DJ liked TG and is abusing thee drunks. After a couple of minutes he put an Iggy Pop record on to try and pacify everyone.” [Genesis P-Orridge, Nanavesh 3, February 1982]
Track One (47’23”)
00’00” Zyklon B Zombie
07’38” Last Exit
16’17” Slug Bait
23’10” Maggot Life
32’09” Mary Jane/Record Contract “Just like the Bay City Rollers, The Rolling Stones and Johnny Rotten, all our songs sound the same”
41’47” ‘Tesco Disco’ “If my amplifier was loud enough, I’d make sure it killed everyone in the room including me”
42’31” One Note One Life One Purpose “I just want to fuck you all up the bum – anything to wake you up”
Track Two (12’36”)
00’00” One Note One Life One Purpose (cont.)”Oh fuck I’ve gone out of tune”
04’30” ‘A Load of Fucking Wankers’
09’12” (Recording ends)
SO36 Club, Berlin, Germany, 8th November 1980.
“A short high frequency ‘buzz like’ sound can sometimes be heard during these performances. This sound is present on the original tapes and was most likely caused by [the] presence of a nearby digital PCM machine during the recordings.” “There were technical problems during the taping of this performance which resulted in a shorter than usual 48 minute recording.” [Chris Carter, TG+ notes, August 2003]
Track titles from Funeral in Berlin. Some instrumentals on IRCD36/37 may have one of the following titles: Stained by Dead Horses / Zero’s Death / Nomon / Raudive Bunker Experiment / Denial of Death / Funeral in Berlin / Trade Deficit. Any help on this appreciated.
Track One (20’29”)
13’04” An Old Man Smiled
20’28” (Recording ends)
Track Two (27’35”)
13’32” Something Came Over Me (cuts out 14’56” to 15’30”)
27’20” (Performance ends)
More info on TG Live:
Wikipedia: TG Live
Was it really just little more than a week? Felt longer.
Ok, so the treatment of The Mamas & the Papas masters and their catalogue over the past decades seems pretty abysmal. Until Sundazed I don’t think anybody was doing anything decent with this material in the CD era and beyond aside from lame comps.
Steve Hoffman tried his hand at remastering some of the singles for a compilation, and while he got it extraordinarily clean sounding, he turned once mono radio singles into hard-panned severe stereo mixes. That move perplexed me and renders the songs pretty unlistenable to boot. I dunno, it’s out there if you want to compare. All the other CDs I’ve heard have similarly abysmal stereo mixes. Yes, I love their voices and harmonies, but I don’t really appreciate the great stomping beat of “Creeque Alley” relegated to somewhere far off in my right ear.
Anyway, by the time Sundazed got their hands on the masters, they were deteriorated to the point where… well, you can hear it for yourself on their reissues. I don’t knock them for it, they did the best they could. There’s some Byrds stuff they put out that suffered a similar fate.
SO, the conclusion I have come to is that there is really no satisfying reissue of The Mamas & the Papas’ albums. You’re stuck with original Dunhill vinyls from the 1960s to hear how this stuff was meant to sound. So that’s what the three M&P albums here are ripped from. I’m totally up for suggestions of what OOP releases sound better… the MCA discs from the 1980s?
Oh, for the record my favorite single LP by them is DELIVER, if you wanted a starting point.
I’m throwing in the excellent Cass Elliot comp for good measure, because I’m obsessed with her lately. “California Earthquake” is one of the best songs ever written. Her cover of The Beach Boys’ “Disney Girls” is pretty stellar also.
Hey, you know that band Tool? How they’re so “edgy” for writing that post-apocalyptic misanthropic nightmare song about how Los Angeles will be swallowed by the ocean? Yeah, Mama Cass wrote that shit in 1968 and shoved it down Middle America’s throat on The Fucking Smothers Brothers. Take your ball and go home, Tool.
By 1967, bossa nova had become quite popular within jazz and traditional pop audiences, yet Frank Sinatra hadn’t attempted any Brazil-influenced material. Sinatra decided to record a full-fledged bossa nova album with the genre’s leading composer, Antonio Carlos Jobim. Arranged by Claus Ogerman and featuring Jobim on guitar and backing vocals, Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim concentrated on Jobim’s originals, adding three American classics — “Baubles, Bangles and Beads,” “Change Partners,” and “I Concentrate on You” — that were rearranged to suit bossa nova conventions. The result was a subdued, quiet album that used the Latin rhythms as a foundation, not as a focal point. Supported by a relaxed, sympathetic arrangement of muted brass, simmering percussion, soft strings, and Jobim’s lilting guitar, Sinatra turns in an especially noteworthy performance; he has never sounded so subtle, underplaying every line he delivers and showcasing vocal techniques that he never had displayed before. Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim doesn’t reveal its pleasures immediately; the album is too textured and understated to be fully appreciated within one listen. After a few plays, the album begins to slowly work its way underneath a listener’s skin, and it emerges as one of his most rewarding albums of the ’60s.
Watertown is Frank Sinatra’s most ambitious concept album, as well as his most difficult record. Not only does it tell a full-fledged story, it is his most explicit attempt at rock-oriented pop. Since the main composer of Watertown is Bob Gaudio, the author of the Four Seasons’ hits “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You,” “Walk Like a Man,” and “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” that doesn’t come as a surprise. With Jake Holmes, Gaudio created a song cycle concerning a middle-aged, small-town man whose wife had left him with the kids. Constructed as a series of brief lyrical snapshots that read like letters or soliloquies, the culminating effect of the songs is an atmosphere of loneliness, but it is a loneliness without much hope or romance — it is the sound of a broken man. Producer Charles Calello arranged musical backdrops that conveyed the despair of the lyrics. Weaving together prominent electric guitars, keyboards, drum kits, and light strings, Calello uses pop/rock instrumentations and production techniques, but that doesn’t prevent Sinatra from warming to the material. In fact, he turns in a wonderful performance, drawing out every emotion from the lyrics, giving the album’s character depth.
-Stephen Thomas Erlewine, allmusic.com
At the time Back to Mono was released in 1991, Phil Spector’s reputation as one of pop’s great visionaries was intact, but there was no way to hear his genius. It wasn’t just that there were no collections spotlighting his productions, there weren’t collections of artists he produced. It wasn’t until Back to Mono that there was a thorough overview of Spector’s greatest work, and while it’s not without flaws, it still stands as one of the great box sets. Some may complain that there are no selections from his superstar ’70s productions for John Lennon, George Harrison, Leonard Cohen, and the Ramones, but that’s for the best, since their presence would have been incongruous, taking attention away from the music that forms the heart of Spector’s legacy. All of that music is here, not just on the first three discs, all devoted to singles, but also on the fourth disc, his seminal 1963 holiday album, A Christmas Gift for You, which isn’t just the greatest rock Christmas album, but a crystallization of his skills. It could be argued that the song selection overlooks some obscure fan favorites, such as “Do the Screw,” but that’s simply nitpicking, because what’s here are all the great Spector records, which were hardly just great productions, they were great songs as well. As the set plays, it’s hard not to be stunned by the depth of the material and clarity of Spector’s vision for his famed Wall of Sound, whether you’ve heard these songs hundreds of times or not at all — especially because they gain power when grouped together. Many producers have been credited as the true creative force behind many rock records, but usually that’s hyperbole. In Spector’s case, it wasn’t, as this set gloriously proves.
-Stephen Thomas Erlewine, allmusic.com
Various Artists-PHIL SPECTOR: BACK TO MONO (1991 compilation)
This is another classic recommended by ANOTHER SUCKER ON THE VINE, but it’s too good to leave to just Andy alone! -Ian!
In 1996, Oakland’s Pimp Of The Year, no, Pimp Of The Century, Dru Down comes out with a sick album full of bay area fire and funk. With producers like Lev Berlak, DJ Fuze, DJ Daryl, Soopafly (credited by his name Priest Brooks), Battlecat, and a few others, you get a neat mix of Mobb Music and laidback G-Funk (Bay and L.A. inspired), and a plain out good time. Dru Down spits heat throughout and has great guests here too. “Playa Fo Real” is the joint. Battlecat really did up the beat, bouncy G-Funk and a slick whiny synth, one of his most original beats ever, and he is a phat beatsmith. DD gets his mack on nice and smooth. He calls out Too $hort on the mobbed out “Mista Busta” over a syrupy beat. This song contributed to the Luniz, C&H, Dru Down vs. Too Short beef that would prove violent thru ’96 into ’97.
A slappin good time is found on “Heads & Shoulders” with DD gettin it horny, crunk, and disorderly over a “Smurphie’s Dance” sample. The smooth but raunchy sex joint “Freaks Come Out” has a phat, smoked out laidback G-Funk beat with LV (from South Central Cartel/Coolio fame) dropping a hot and smooth hook. Then, we have the bay mobb music joints “500 Mobsters,” and the bangin’ “The Mobb.” This joint is long but tight. The beat is nice and slick with neat keyboard melodies. “Suspect One” is another with more of a laidback beat but harsher rhymes to offset that atmosphere. The title track is cool with a neat coming of age story, but a predictable sample “Can You Feel It.” Another classic is “Underestimated” where Soopafly adds a Long Beach G-Funk bouncy beat and a slick verse about how heads underestimated the 2 rappers. Overall, this album should be in anyone’s collection. A phat album that should never be slept on. This album is smoother than Explicit Game from 2 years earlier and fun and humorous.
-G-Funk 4ever “Honda Civic”, amazon.com
As can be gleaned from the cover of her one and only record, Linda Perhacs was a stunning, beautiful love child. Anyone who spent the $200-400 necessary to obtain copies of the original vinyl could attest that the music she made was comparably stunning and beautiful, infused with all the trappings of being a late-sixties love child (in the best possible way).
Ace of Discs reissued her album after unsuccessful attempts to track her down, mastering from a poorly pressed vinyl copy. For whatever reason, the first issue on CD was completely unlistenable on headphones, although delightful in the open air. Since that first go-round, Perhacs has come out of her obscure Pacific Northwest woods with quarter-inch reels of the sessions, and now that Ace of Discs comes round again with a vindicating, expanded reissue, the tray card photo reveals: she’s still a babe.
Anyway you eye it, this is a magical, sublimely singular piece of gentle folk-psych that belongs with those lone album classics by folks like Skip Spence or Vashti Bunyan (or the countless other souls that only released one record before disappearing into history’s communal farms or funny-farm madness, like Elyse). It is a sound so personal and intimate that I can only hear it in the privacy of my own room. Although it’s been near-impossible to gain biographical information about her, the experience of hearing her music reveals so much about her soul and mindset at the time that I really don’t think I could share it with anyone else.
As mentioned above, she’s a love child in every sense, a young woman blossoming into her sensual world. Of the elements, every song culls its images from her forest environment, permeating down into her own physical core. “Chimacum Rain” is not only the forest’s silence and that sound of rain washing over her, but the palpable sexual presence of her lover, too. In almost every evocation of a tactile natural image, there is a mysterious man who physically embodies these characteristics, a tension courses through her body as she sings about these near-deities. And as she reaches the bridge with lines such as “I’m spacing out/ I’m seeing silences between leaves…I’m seeing silences that are his,” her voice begins to echo within itself, and her sung notes assuage open the aural synesthesia of the words. The diaphanous taste of lysergic acid creeps to the fore, and what was once a moderately played acoustic song about the forest expands into a hallucinatory clearing as her multi-tracked held tones meld with the infinite. As her voice dilates, so does the background, now all electrically-processed source sounds like xylophones and wind chimes, and all is enveloped by a low, distorted drone that would one day sound like Phill Niblock, created by– as the liner notes so baldly state it– “amplified shower hose for horn effects.”
It’s nothing compared to the album’s peak, “Parallelograms”. Perhaps you fantasize that Joni Mitchell teaches painting and pottery at your high school, or that Chan Marshall mumbles about the Apocalypse poets during English class, but Perhacs teaching geometry is tantrically hot for teacher. To just read the lyrics of “Quadrehederal/ Tetrahedral/ mono-cyclo-cyber-cilia” is to miss how she and producer Leonard Rosenman assuredly layer her heavenly-sung rounds in concentric circles over a cycling guitar-picked figure, a cumulative effect that reveals a dimension scarcely achieved anywhere else in the world of music. Closer to the Mysterious Voices of Bulgaria or Tim Buckley’s cellular self-choir “Starsailor” than Melanie or Linda Ronstadt, Perhacs drops us into drifting clouds of reverberating bells, echoing flute, and ghostly effluence, her throat outside of time. That a dental assistant in Northern California could more effectively convey the psychedelic experience through the use of the technology of experimental effects, be it early Pink Floyd, Fifty-Foot Hose, or Buffy Saint-Marie’s electroacoustic Illuminations, is, in every clichéd use of the word, mind-blowing.
Other songs deal with girly things like brawny mountain men, dolphins, moonbeams and cattails, the pastel colors of dawn, and the recently-unearthed “If You Were My Man” reveals that she could’ve gone pop with a Karen Carpenter wispiness. Listening to her home demos and studio notes to Roseman though show that she was cognizant of the sound and vibration she wanted. The tape collage lobbed from “Hey Who Really Cares?” is competent– if in hindsight, passé– all disembodied, television voices and a telltale heart beat leading into its pastoral prettiness. Her most folky tunes stand up to the times too, but it’s the fact that Linda Perhacs’ entire cosmos (and whatever those times entailed) could inexplicably fit inside the confines of Parallelograms that remains the true testament to her beauty.
-Andy Beta, pitchfork.com
These are fucking astounding, this stuff was going on a couple years before kosmische was more than a twinkle in the krautrock scene’s eye. It predates Tangerine Dream’s and Manuel Gottsching’s amazing synth work, even! -Ian!
This reissue of the earliest work by Mother Mallard’s Portable Masterpiece Co. includes all of their first album, plus almost 20 minutes of previously unreleased material. The group wore their minimalist influences quite well, resulting in tracks which take the cycling repetitions of work by Steve Reich into new territory altogether, as on the 12-minute “Music.” Most of the music here is a bit beyond minimalism; in fact, it’s much closer to exploratory proto-space music or new age on the highlights “Ceres Motion” and “Cloudscape for Peggy,” the latter of which was composed around the time acts like Tangerine Dream and Cluster were just getting started.
A reissue of Mother Mallard’s second LP on their independent Earthquack Records, this CD presents music from the latter stages of their work as a group, after they had been playing and rehearsing together for five or six years and shortly before David Borden began devoting his full attention to his monumental 12-part Continuing Story of Counterpoint series. During these sessions, the group was a trio (as they generally had been from the beginning), with Borden and colleague Steve Drews as the constants and Judy Borsher replacing Linda Fisher, who had been the third member on earlier recordings. Instrumentation varied somewhat within the group, but since members were actively collaborating with inventor Robert Moog throughout most of the group’s life, various sizes and styles of Moog synthesizers were always the primary instruments, supplemented by an electric piano, which was usually played by Borsher (or Fisher before her). Borden had first envisioned Mother Mallard as a performance group who would disseminate and interpret the musical gospel of Glass, Reich, Riley, and other proponents of the new minimalism, and also feature original compositions by himself and his colleague, Steve Drews. Gradually, the original compositions took over, at least as indicated in the group’s recorded work. However, the influence of the big-name minimalists is relatively strong here, and the seven pieces on this CD all exhibit elements of the rhythmic-pattern minimalism of Glass and Reich, with touches, also, of Riley’s softer, drone-based mysticism. Consequently, although Mother Mallard is capable of the occasional funky ostinato riff, and notes are discreetly bent here and there, one will hear none of the variable pitch weirdness and timbral extremes which characterized prog rock’s early appropriation of Moogs, and which Borden and company dabbled with a bit themselves during the early ’70s. On this CD, Drews receives composer credits on five pieces to Borden’s two, although one of Borden’s two pieces is the lengthy and ambitious “C-A-G-E Part II,” which clocks in at over 20 minutes. Somewhat surprisingly, there’s really not much to chose between Drews and Borden as composers, and although Borden went on to achieve the greater reputation, a piece such as Drews’ “Oleo Strut” could be easily mistaken for one of Borden’s early “Counterpoint” pieces. Drews’ “Waterwheel” is also very appealing, with patterns of different lengths moving in and out of phase with each other, producing some interesting auditory disorientation. Borden’s feature piece is conceptually based, derived from the four musical notes which make up composer John Cage’s last name. The musicians play their parts for prearranged lengths of time, coming together only at the end of the piece. In spite of its logical premises, “C-A-G-E Part II” is a serene, meditative, and even hypnotic musical experience, at times suggesting both Riley’s “In C” and his “Rainbow in Curved Air.” Borden’s sophisticated knowledge of Baroque counterpoint is also evident in this piece, and he would use such elements to an even greater advantage a few years later in the Continuing Story of Counterpoint series.
-John Bush, Bill Tilland, allmusic.com
Can’t seem to avoid PBTHAL at this point. Every time I fall for a classic album, he’s got the prime cut lossless vinyl rip of the best pressing there ever was, crushing whatever CD junk remaster is commercially available. This is another case where there’s some junky special edition that sounds like digital fucking death, and a thirty year old vinyl that sounds like diamonds. In fact, you couldn’t even get the real, original mix of this album for over twenty years. Wikipedia sez:
During the height of ZZ Tops’ success in the early 1980s an inferior “digitally remixed” version of the recording replaced the original 1973 analog mix. The remix version was used on all early CD copies and was the only version available for over 20 years. A remastered and expanded edition of the album was released on February 28, 2006, which contains three bonus live tracks. The 2006 edition is the first CD version to use the original 1973 mix.
I understand that said comment will probably be stripped of its biased language, but its point stands!
For the FLAC version of this, and two other early ZZ Top jamz, check with the master.
Ripped from my CD, it’s an insanely quiet album so I added +13db via replaygain. Don’t worry, this does nothing to compress dynamic range or even distort. There was still 13db of headroom to spare. Yes, I know you film nerds will complain about the mashup below. Trust me, it was the least cheesy youtube I could find. -Ian!
“Fur Alina” (1976) was the first effort in tintinnabuli, a two-minute score launching an improvisation that could go on for hours, based on two voices related through triadic harmony and often compared to plainchant. Part selected two selections from it for this disc, and Alexander Malter performs here. There’s not much in the way of set rhythm here. Instead the notes of the piano similar come one after another, with the piano’s rich array of overtones exploited to the fullest. When the pianist stops, the reverberations of the strings continue to send forth such a strong sound, an effect Part was later to explore in his clever “Cantus” in memory of Benjamin Britten.
“Spiegel im Spiegel” (Mirror in Mirror, 1978) is present here in three different recordings. The first and third are of the arrangement for violin and piano, performed by the duo of Vladimir Spivakov and Sergei Bezrodny. The middle recording is for cello and piano with Dietmar Schwalke performing with Alexander Malter. In this extremely elegant piece, the piano keeps a constant cadence against which the string instrument sweeps. The result hints at something immensely spiritual, like seeing two lovers gaze into each other’s eyes. Part was later to shake up this joining of loving voices with the faster-moving “Fratres” piece, arranged for a number of different instruments over the years, but this contemplative early effort has a beautiful clarity.
-Christopher Culver, amazon.com