Archive Review: Paul Weller’s Stanley Road (1995)

I seem to be having a literal, classic love/hate relationship with Paul Weller. As the leading force behind the Jam, one of the British Isles’ finest musical imports ever, I adored just about every mod rocking note he and his mates cranked out. Some cuts, like “The Bitterest Pill” or “Down In the Tube Station At Midnight” are enduring classics, the legacy of a band that sadly never made much of an impression stateside.

Weller broke-up the Jam in order to prevent them from falling prey to the “aging boxer syndrome,” preferring the U.K. hitmakers to retire from the charts with their crowns intact than to hang around to hit bottom. His next musical project, the Style Council, cranked out a handful of soulful, R & B tinged British chart-toppers before sliding into what can only be called insipid lounge jazz, not even suitable musical fare for your local Ramada Inn. It was here that the hate part of the relationship began to grow.

Wild Wood, Weller’s “solo” debut partially redeemed his music-making reputation in these eyes, but the recently-released Stanley Road flirts again with brilliance. Weller’s vocals sound more soulful and passionate than they have in years, resembling a vintage, early 1970s-era Joe Cocker. The songs to be found on Stanley Road are a pleasant enough lot, ranging from straight-ahead rock ‘n’ roll to R & B inflected, Ray Charles-ish ravers. Weller seems to have returned to his musical roots, and he’s done well by it. Cuts like “Porcelain Gods,” “Woodcutter’s Son,” or “Broken Stones” show the hand of the maturing artist, and may easily represent Weller’s strongest songwriting efforts to date. Stanley Road may or may not connect with an increasingly anglophobic U.S. record-buying public, but it’s a solid album nonetheless, Weller a complex artist who obviously still has a trick or two remaining hidden up his creative sleeve. (Go! Discs, released May 1995)

Review originally published by Review & Discussion of Rock ‘n’ Roll (R.A.D!) zine...

CD Review: The Dream Syndicate's Medicine Show 40th Anniversary Box Set (2025)

Dream Syndicate frontman Steve Wynn has been a busy lil’ rock ‘n’ roller over the past couple of years, publishing the first volume of his autobiography (highly recommended!), releasing albums by the Baseball Project (2023’s exquisite, Mitch Easter-produced Grand Salami Time!) and the sublime 2024 solo LP Make It Right. With a little help from producer Pat Thomas, Wynn even found the time to work on this nifty, four-CD deluxe 40th anniversary box set of Dream Syndicate’s 1984 album, Medicine Show that includes everything a Syndicate fanatic might want and/or expect from this period of the enduring band’s career.

Dream Syndicate’s Medicine Show

I’ve always felt that Medicine Show was vastly underrated and too-often overshadowed by the band’s raved-about, Velvet Underground-inspired debut, The Days of Wine and Roses. Medicine Show was Dream Syndicate’s sophomore effort, but also their major label debut, represented here by disc one. Originally produced by Sandy Pearlman (best known for his work with Blue Öyster Cult), Medicine Show was slagged by critics and fair-weather fans alike for being too, well…different sounding (*gasp*) than the band’s debut. Too slick, too well-produced, too, too…you get the picture. 

Never mind that damn near every album Pearlman produced was unfairly assaulted by the music media at the time for some damn reason or another (especially the Clash’s Give ‘Em Enough Rope). Critics disregarded the uncomfortable fact that Pearlman coaxed some pretty good performances from his wards, shining them up for commercial FM radio and doubtful label execs, but leaving enough jagged edges that the listener risked cutting themselves. Aside from the nearly-perfect first three BÖC albums, Pearlman-produced gems include the aforementioned second Clash album, the Dictators’ excellent Manifest Destiny and Bloodbrothers LPs, and Pavlov Dog’s pioneering Pampered Menial and At the Sound of the Bell.

John Coltrane Stereo Blues

The same creative vision that Pearlman brought to the aforementioned titles carried over to Medicine Show, which comes out of left field, cranks up the guitars, and delivers a dense, discordant, and sometimes challenging listen that pushed against the preconceived barriers inherent in ‘80s-era rock ‘n’ roll and opened the door for ‘90s grunge and alternative bands to stroll through with enough street cred to grab major label deals of their own. Sure, it took Wynn’s Velvet Underground obsession to darker, gloomier, and doomier environs, but by unleashing his musical id, it reconfigured the band’s sonic footprint laterally to the left-hand path, but it also expanded his songwriting palette in much the way that I expect that Lou Reed felt after the first VU outing.

I’ve always considered Medicine Show to be Dream Syndicate’s “noir” album and, over the years, have probably listened to it as much or more than any of the band’s other efforts. There are some real bangers in these grooves, songs like “Still Holding On To You,” “Armed With An Empty Gun,” “Bullet With My Name On It,” “The Medicine Show,” and the squonky, wonderful guitar jam “John Coltrane Stereo Blues.” The disc includes three bonus tracks, including both a live version and a studio outtake of “John Coltrane Stereo Blues” as well as a cool solo acoustic performance of the title track. 

This Is Not the New Dream Syndicate Album…Live!

No, the band didn’t hit every bullseye with Medicine Show, and some of their efforts fell short of critics’ expectations, but they took a chance and even if it didn’t sell much at the time, there are many good reasons why we’re still talking about the album 40 years later. It sounds unlike just about anything else released during the decade, and that’s a good thing! The second disc of Medicine Show’s 40th anniversary box includes an expanded version of the band’s This Is Not the New Dream Syndicate Album…Live! five-song EP, also released in 1984, and recorded during the Medicine Show tour. 

The band was more comfortable with the new tunes, and it shows, the box presenting the full WXRT-FM concert in Chicago with two additional tracks, including a killer live take of “The Days of Wine and Roses.” Several other bonus tracks beyond that concert offer various live (1984) versions of “John Coltrane Stereo Blues” (not a problem, as every performance provides new dimensions), “Bullet With My Name On It,” and “Witness” as well as a lo-fi rehearsal outtake of “Weathered and Torn,” a bluesy, Stones-adjacent romp that is easy to imagine Mick singing.

What Is And What Should Never Be

Disc three really amps up the excitement with “The Road To Medicine Show,” a previously-unreleased live set from CBGB’s in NYC circa 1983 that offers pre-Medicine Show workouts of several songs that would feature on the LP as well as a muscular, feedback-drenched cover of the last good Eric Clapton song, “Let It Rain,” that sounds absolutely Goth. Wynn’s vocals here more closely resemble Robert Smith than ol’ “Slowhand,” the song also offering up some tasty guitarplay. A reverent take on Bonnie Dobson’s folk classic “Morning Dew” starts out with just Wynn’s plaintive vocals before the guitars razorblade their way through the dense mix to noisily punctuate the song’s lyrics. Disc four, “What Is And What Should Never Be,” is an odds ‘n’ sods collection of previously unreleased live tracks from 1983/84 and includes a couple of rehearsal tapes with fan favorite bassist Kendra Smith. 

There are some surprises here, but only a few that truly excite, and the sound quality varies from venue to venue. A somber cover of Dale Hawkin’s “Susie Q” is a little too staid for my tastes, but the band’s take on “Evil Ways” incorporates jazzier vibes than the band’s usual fare, falling somewhere in-between Willie Bobo’s 1967 original and Santana’s better-known recording a couple of years later. BÖC’s “Don’t Fear the Reaper” is a cheeky choice in cover songs, considering the band’s (then) future association with Pearlman, but the performance’s revved-up and cacophonic delivery (Austin TX version) is both fiercer and punkier than the original. Their cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Born On the Bayou” is swamp-blues at its finest – dense, murky, unpredictable – you can almost smell the Spanish Moss growing on the Cypress trees. 

  

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

My feelings about Medicine Show aside, the album’s 40th anniversary box provides a lot of bang for your buck – four CDs and 42 songs, including two discs of completely unreleased Dream Syndicate material – all for less than $14 per CD (with shipping from Bandcamp), which is a heck of a better deal than Springsteen’s recent Tracks II box set (seven CDs, $231 on Amazon, $33 per CD?!!). Packaged in a hardback book with liner notes, band commentary, and lots of photos, it’s truly a “deluxe” presentation. 

For the dedicated Dream Syndicate fan, Steve Wynn and Pat Thomas have done an impressive job of documenting the band’s history circa 1983-84 with this expansive collection of studio and live recordings, their efforts resurrecting an underrated album from potential obscurity and extending the band’s growing legacy with a wealth of electrifying live tracks. The Medicine Show 40th anniversary box is what all retrospective reissues should aspire to… (Down There Records, released September 17th, 2025)   

Buy the Medicine Show box set via Bandcamp!

 

 

Archive Review: The Suburbs’ Viva! Suburbs! (1994)

Way back when, during the glory days of American alternative rock, in the early moments of a Reagan era that seemed to spawn such things, came forth legendary bands like Hüsker Dü, The Replacements, and Soul Asylum. Preceeding all of these, however, was the Suburbs. The first of many bands to come from the much-vaunted early ‘80s Minneapolis music scene, The ‘Burbs were a product of both English new wave and good old-fashioned U.S. punk. A handful of albums on a like number of labels brought the band heaps of critical acclaim but only modest commercial success. The Suburbs sadly faded away before the end of the decade.

History seems to have passed the Suburbs by. As lesser lights get their own tribute discs and homage paid them by the cream of the pop charts, the Suburbs’ influence is heard, more than felt, in the present-day world of alternative music. The band mixed punkish intensity with new wave sensibilities and were never afraid to cross musical genres, throwing in a white-hot funk number here, a soulful horn arrangement there, every song always delivered with a great deal of energy and vigor.

With the release of Viva! Suburbs! (Live At First Avenue), the band has come back to Twin Tone Records where they began, and you fanboys are afforded a second chance to grab onto one of the greatest unknown bands of the last decade. Recorded live at the legendary First Avenue Club in Minneapolis during a 1993 reunion, this 20 track, hour plus set includes all of The Suburbs’ best-known material as well as a pair of brand-new, never-before-heard cuts.

The Suburbs’ built their own little myth around songs like “Waiting,” “Every Night’s A Friday In Hell,” “Love Is the Law,” and “Rattle My Bones,” and they run through this set of songs like it was 1983 again and they were on top of the world. Viva! Suburbs! is highly recommended...grab it before some wet-behind-the-ears alternative band covers “Cig Machine” or “Drinkin’ With An Angel” and all that old Suburbs’ vinyl now gathering dust in the $1 bins begin fetching collector’s prices. Don’t come cryin’ to me when it happens... (Twin Tone Records, released 1994)

Review originally published by Review & Discussion of Rock ‘n’ Roll (R.A.D!) zine...

Archive Review: The The’s Hanky Panky (1995)

Who would have thunk it, eh? Concept albums, by their very nature, are increasingly passe...after all, in a music world that runs the gamut from rock to rap, metal, thrash, hardcore punk...what is there that we haven’t seen? Well, how about alternative favorite The The releasing an album of Hank Williams songs? After all, if you look at Hank’s life, his rebel attitude, his obstinate refusal to compromise his artistic brilliance, the arrests and his tragic youthful death, hell, Williams had more cajones than a lot of today’s alternative idols.

Hanky Panky is exactly that, a collection of Hank Williams covers delivered perfectly by Britain’s The The. Matt Johnson, the brains behind the band, has done his homework well, brilliantly selecting an inspired list of Williams’ classics. Cuts like “I’m A Long Gone Daddy,” “Your Cheatin’ Heart,” and “I Saw the Light” receive a rather reverent treatment, Johnson’s echoing vocals representing the technologically-enhanced nineties equivalent of Williams’ hillbilly twang. The cuts are fat with sound and life, altering only the song’s arrangements, not their underlying emotion or poetic accomplishments. It’s an experiment that works, Hanky Panky an excellent tribute to one of the music world’s greatest artists. (550 Music/Epic Records, released February 14th, 1995)

Review originally published by Review & Discussion of Rock ‘n’ Roll (R.A.D!) zine...

Archive Review: Faith No More’s King For A Day, Fool For A Lifetime (1995)

I first saw Faith No More some 7 or so years ago, around the time of their first disc, when “We Care A Lot” was on its way to becoming steady college FM fare. They played here in Nashville at a well-known club on a Thanksgiving night, opening for the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The two bands rocked the small club, a mosh pit was in full force, and my brother and myself, bolstered by several pitchers of cheap beer, tried to pick up a couple of leather-clad female beauties who were stationed smack dab in front of the right speaker column. Turns out that the lovely duo had their eyes on the band, however, and dragged Faith No More to their West Nashville abode for an evening of Nyquil intoxication and who knows what else. I ended up going to work the next morning with a dreadful hangover and significant hearing loss, but also, strangely, happy.

Faith No More made a name for themselves by cranking out a funky blend of hardcore and hard rock on stages in small clubs a couple of hundred nights a year. Their albums, no matter how good they might have been, took a back seat to their awesomely intense live performances. With King For A Day, Fool For A Lifetime, Faith No More head into a slightly different musical direction. They don’t entirely turn their backs on the chunky metallic hooks, roaring six strings and manic vocals that earned them a solid rep, but rather add an exciting bit of experimentation to the pot alongside their traditional rock frenzy.

“The Gentle Art of Making Enemies” mixes a hard Peter Gunn-styled guitar undercurrent to what is almost a jazzy, big band arrangement with swinging vocals while “Evidence” is a low-key ballad with a soulful, slightly funky backing rhythm. Cuts like “Cuckoo For Caca,” with its random syncopation and wild vocals, or “Digging The Grave,” chockful of harried guitar riffs and shouted lyrics return the band to their traditional roots. Overall, however, King For A Day, Fool For A Lifetime represents an important musical departure for Faith No More, one that serves them well, showcasing a more mature and more polished outfit. Bet the material would sound great live, too! (Slash Records, released March 28th, 1995)

Review originally published by Bone Music Magazine...

Archive Review: Tommy Castro’s Painkiller (2007)

Since his electrifying live 1994 debut album, Tommy Castro has rocked the blues music world with his powerful vocals, fiery fret-bashing, and signature “rock-n-soul” sound. Over the course of seven studio albums and a pair of live rockets, Castro and his crew have become one of the genre’s premiere houserockin’ bands, with such musical legends as B.B. King and Carlos Santana singing their praises. With the release of Painkiller, his tenth album, Castro has delivered a seriously rocking, once-in-a-lifetime achievement.

Castro and crew crank it up from the first note with the chooglin’ “Love Don’t Care.” With a stabbing guitar riff and some mighty fine horn-blowin’, the band breaks into a vaguely Latin-flavored rhythm as T.C. croons his soul-blues lyrics concerning Cupid’s lack of consideration. A brief lick taken straight from the Chuck Berry playbook opens the lush, big-band R&B revue-styled “I’m Not Broken,” Tony Stead’s nimble-finger ivory-bashing bringing a Jerry Lee vibe to the song’s bluesy roots.

Tommy Castro’s Painkiller

The album’s title track is a soaring blues-rocker with top flight hornplay, a passionate vocal turn by Castro, a fast-walking rhythm, and a red-hot six-string solo in the middle to tie it all together. “Big Sister’s Radio” is a throwback to the early ‘60s, the sort of R&B-steeped roots-rocker that they were kicking out of the Crescent City studios at the time. Keith Crossan’s sax solo is especially effective, evoking memories of a simpler time and a more innocent world, a perfect match to the song’s nostalgic lyrics.

Guitarist Coco Montoya joins Castro on a delightful romp through Albert Collins’ “A Good Fool Is Hard To Find.” The two respected blues musicians swap vocals and compare notes with spry solos that display each man’s respective talents. It is, perhaps, the album’s high point: a raw, rockin’ cover of an already tuff-as-nails song. Things slow down a bit for the moody “Err On the Side of Love,” a silky-smooth number that perfectly recreates an early-1980s blue-eyed soul vibe. Castro’s seductive vocals are complimented by his otherworldly guitarplay.

The first few notes of a gale-force blast of funky sax let the listener know that “I Roll When I Rock” is going to be a blustery R&B rave-up, and Castro does not disappoint. The entire gang struts and swaggers through the song, the energetic rhythms nearly overshadowed by the cameo solo spotlights of guitar, saxophone, and piano. Guest vocalist Angela Strehli lends her considerable pipes to a particularly fine reading of the great Freddie King’s “If You Believe (In What You Do),” dueting with Castro and providing a bluesy sheen to the song’s slow-rocking roots.

“Goin’ Down South” mixes a barrelhouse piano undercurrent with Castro and Teresa James trading verses on the vocals on this Dixie-fried travelogue that name checks traditional music-oriented cities as Memphis, Tennessee; Austin, Texas; and San Diego, California. A dark-hued storm cloud descends on “Lonesome and Then Some,” a mournful tale of looking for love that features an appropriately winsome vocal performance set against a haunting keyboard backdrop. Castro’s fretwork here is stunning, capturing the song’s many shades of emotion.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Every now and then even the most jaded music fan will find an album where all the pieces just fall into place. That’s the case with Painkiller, Tommy Castro and his band firing on all cylinders as they roll through this spirited collection of blues, rock, R&B, and soul. Producer John Porter (Buddy Guy, B.B. King, Santana) has created a bright, beautiful mix for these songs, allowing Castro’s charisma and the entire band’s talents to shine right through your speakers. Painkiller won a 2008 Blues Music Award as “Contemporary Blues Album of the Year,” and for good reasons…this album rocks! (Blind Pig Records, released February 2nd, 2007)

DVD Review: The Groundhogs’ Live At The Astoria (2008)

The Groundhogs, who hail from mid-’60s England, hardly even rate as a cult band on U.S. shores. A pair of critically-acclaimed releases during the dawn of the ‘70s – Thank Christ For the Bomb (1970) and Who Will Save the World? (1972) – were hits in the U.K. but flew beneath the radar on this side of the pond. The band’s track record speaks for itself, however: working with blues legend John Lee Hooker, kibitzing with John Mayall, better than four decades of recording and performing…but outside of a few red, white, and blues diehards, the Groundhogs have always been invisible in America, and are thus ripe for rediscovery by music lovers seeking a new flavor.

Groundhogs vocalist and guitarist Tony (T.S.) McPhee has been fronting the band seemingly since kindergarten. An old-school Brit blooze-rocker…one of the oldest, in fact…through the years he’s lead revolving line-ups through a variation of blues, hard rock, and psychedelic styles, sometimes with progressive overtones, but usually playing it straight down the (party) line. The Groundhogs’ Live At The Astoria DVD represents the band’s first full-length concert taping, the cameras capturing a 1998 show in support of their Howlin’ Wolf tribute CD, Hogs In Wolves’ Clothing. The double-disc set includes a CD of the concert as well, so you can take the ‘Hogs with you in the car, or slap it in your stereo for an instant good time.

McPhee leads a classic power trio into battle, the exciting guitarist backed by bassist Eric Chipulina and drummer Pete Correa. Putting on a display of good ole-fashioned six-string strangulation in front of an enthusiastic audience, McPhee pulls every stunt at his command out of his decades-old bag o’ tricks. Although sometimes lapsing into the clichés of the blues-rock form, McPhee’s talent and on-stage charm manage to transform even the most pedestrian of songs into a boozy party. Brick-by-brick, Live At The Astoria delivers plenty of down-n-dirty cheap thrills that you’ll happily take a shower after hearing to wash off the grime, the cue it up on the box again.

“Eccentric Man” hits the listener between the ears like Cream on steroids, a heartbeat bassline and powderkeg drums ignited by McPhee’s six-string pyrotechnics. Longtime fan favorite “Split, Part 1,” from the band’s 1971 album of the same, is a vintage rocker with randomly-injected riffs, shifting time signatures, and surprisingly fluid fretwork balanced by screaming eagle solos. A blobby, lava-lamplike tapestry is projected on the wall behind the band, so that when McPhee launches into a whammy-bar-crazed solo, he sounds like a cross between Hendrix and Buckethead, with a Hawkwind chaser.

McPhee tries out his finest falsetto on an abbreviated reading of “Cherry Red,” swarming guitar notes blistering like the stings of an entire beehive, while “Still A Fool” is a greasy, slow-burning blues tune with plenty of built-up frustration and denial, and a bottom-heavy solo with notes as thick as a rhino’s hide. The band encores with its signature “Groundhog Blues,” a throbbing slice o’ Delta-inspired booger-rock that would do John Lee proud. With a heavy walking riff and salt-cured vocals, McPhee happily casts his lot with the long-gone ghosts at the Mississippi crossroads.

A merry band of musical luddites, the Groundhogs crank out the type of dino-stomp that went out-of-fashion with the loom, and doesn’t exist these days outside of the British Museum, on display beside the Rosetta Stone. McPhee and the lads seem to be more the pub type, though, and Live At The Astoria is a fine representation of the band’s timeless – and out-of-time – sound. (Eagle Rock Entertainment, released September 23rd, 2008)

Review originally published by Blurt magazine…

 

Book Review: Stanley Booth's Rythm Oil (2000)

Writer Stanley Booth is best-known for his 1984 book, Dance With the Devil, a chronicle of his time touring with the Rolling Stones. A frustrated novelist with an eye for detail, a naturally florid use of language, and a classic literary slant to his work, Booth’s best work has been in the field of music, especially the incredible essays that he wrote for publications like Esquire, Playboy, Rolling Stone, and the Village Voice, among others during the 1960s and ‘70s.

Booth’s Rythm Oil, subtitled “A journey through the music of the American South,” collects twenty of the writer’s best music-related pieces, the ambitious scope of the work covering everything from country blues and early rock ‘n’ roll to Memphis soul and 1970s-era blues-rock. Named for “rythm oil” [sic], an alchemical modern voodoo potion sold in the Beale Street shops of Memphis, the book itself is some sort of magical tome that really does provide a literary journey through the music of the time.

While Booth’s “Standing At the Crossroads,” an imaginative fictional flight of fancy that recounts Robert Johnson’s legendary meeting with the Devil, falls flat in its ambition, it’s the only hiccup that the reader will find in Rythm Oil. “Furry’s Blues” does a fine job of illustrating the poverty and racism experienced by country blues great Furry Lewis, while “Been Here and Gone,” Booth’s account of the funeral of Mississippi John Hurt, is poignant in its description of the event. “Blues Boy” offers a look into the life and career of the great B.B. King, while other chapters cover such artists as Al Green, Janis Joplin, Gram Parsons, James Brown, ZZ Top, and Elvis Presley.

Written with an autobiographical bent – Booth is an important participant in these stories – the format allows him to provide personal insight and emotion into the essays. Tying the music pieces together are strong articles that touch upon the city of Memphis, racism, and the South itself. Booth writes beautifully, with a real sympathy for his subjects, and no little knowledge of both the music and the history. If you want an entertaining education on both the South and its music, a snapshot of a certain time and place in pop culture history, Rythm Oil is the book for you. Highly recommended. (Da Capo Press, published October 1, 2000)

Bootleg Review: Frank Zappa’s Kreega Bondola (1997)

Although he sits comfortably outside of the “Top Five” of bootlegged artists, Frank Zappa has always been a favorite target of bootleggers, nonetheless. This fact particularly galled Zappa, who took great pride in bringing the same sort of intensity and passion to his live performances as he did to his studio recordings. In an attempt to try and “beat the boots” at their own game, Zappa even gathered up a number of fine, but unauthorized recordings of his work and released them himself through his association with Rhino Records. As a result, aside from the plethora of illegitimate recordings that continue to surface, there are a number of highly-recommended “authorized bootlegs” covering a significant portion of Zappa’s lengthy career, that are currently available through mainstream retailers.

Kreega Bondola, however, is not one of those releases, serving instead as a fine example of European bootleggery. A double CD set taken from a 1984 show at the Saratoga Performing Arts Centre, the release captures Zappa performing with one of the best of many bands he’d used throughout his career. The mid-‘80s were arguably the most prolific of Zappa’s 30+ years, as he developed and/or refined a number of themes that would continue to serve him well throughout the decade, including censorship, sexual politics and religious hypocrisy (aimed at the rising tide of televangelism). Releases of the era like Them or Us or Broadway the Hard Way, as well as his subsequent battle against the PMRC and Congressional testimony found the iconoclastic Zappa in the awkward position of being considered an “elder statesman” of rock. His relationship with the media at the time was an especially fragile one.

Little of the controversy that he was to become embroiled in is evident on Kreega Bondola. The performance is typical Zappa – incredibly tight, orchestrated, and well-choreographed. A lot of Zappa’s between song commentary has been “airbrushed” out in the studio, as has a lot of audience reaction to the material. You can hear the audience at times, but they’re kept very low in the mix (which isn’t necessarily bad, just extreme). As such, the band seems as if they’re performing in a vacuum. For the most part, the performances are short and succinct, seldom allowing Zappa and the band to cut loose and play. Zappa’s maestro-like mastery of the guitar kept on a short leash, FZ throwing a few bones to the audience in the way of solos, and only the title cut and “Illinois Enema Bandit” really showcase what the band was capable of musically with extended musical passages.

Overall, Kreega Bondola offers a good performance by a great artist and band. A soundboard recording, the sound quality here is top notch, with the mix leaning heavily towards the instrumentation and vocals. Although there’s little here to attract the casual rock fan, Kreega Bondola is a significant addition to any Zappa fan’s musical library. (Triangle Records, Italy, released 1997)

Review originally published by R Squared zine, "Grey Edition"

Archive Review: Gary Moore & Scars' Scars (2002)

Guitarist Gary Moore earned his bones as a blues assassin, mentored by Fleetwood Mac founder Peter Green and fronting the late ‘60s British “blooze-rock” posse Skid Row. After a handful of albums and mid-chart singles, Moore left the band to tool around Europe as part of the jazz-fusion outfit Colosseum before becoming a heavy metal hero as the primary axeman for Phil Lynott’s Thin Lizzy. A series of metal-tinged, hard rockin’ solo albums like 1984’s Victims of the Future and 1987’s Wild Frontier made Moore one of the best-loved cult guitarists in rock, but for the last decade or so, the chameleon-like artist has returned to the blues with a handful of critically-acclaimed releases.

With his new band Scars, featuring former Skunk Anansie bassist Cass Lewis and Primal Scream drummer Darrin Mooney, Moore enjoys the best of both worlds, blending hard rock energy and his mastery of the blues, updating the Skid Row sound for a new millennium. Scars, the trio’s self-titled debut, burns with a white light/white heat that will blister your eardrums and tickle your id, Moore’s tortured six-string wailing like a metal machine monster. Copping his best Jimi Hendrix/Robin Trower attitude, Moore kicks off Scars with “When the Sun Goes Down,” an electrifying riff-fest that had this humble scribe believing that it was 1973 again.

“Wasn’t Born In Chicago” rolls right off the tracks, Moore howling like he’s got Robert Johnson’s hellhounds on his trail, the band hitting a funky groove and driving it like an out-of-control big rig down the listener’s throat. Another six-string lovefest, “World of Confusion,” conjures up the ghost of Hendrix (think “Manic Depression” and you’re in the right ballpark) while “Ball and Chain” is a powerful blues rave-up that will have you swaying your head and stomping your feet in spite of yourself. A strong effort that showcases Moore’s ability to both blast out power riffs and deliver subtle blues virtuosity, Scars is a reminder that sometimes an old blueshound doesn’t need to learn any new tricks to get by... (Sanctuary Records, released September 10th, 2002)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ music zine...

Archive Review: Ray Bonneville’s Goin’ By Feel (2007)

Born in Canada, but raised in America, singer/songwriter and self-professed “blues poet” Ray Bonneville considers himself to be a “North American.” The itinerant musician has traveled constantly throughout the three decades of his career, from Boston to Seattle, from Arkansas to Alaska. Yet, Bonneville will be the first to tell you that no location has been more influential to his music than the city of New Orleans. Listening to Bonneville’s Goin’ By Feel, it’s easy to hear his musical and spiritual connection to the Crescent City.

The Sound of New Orleans

Although New Orleans has a grand tradition in jazz music, the city also has a rich heritage in the blues. After all, the mighty Mississippi River runs south from the Delta, through the city, and into the Gulf of Mexico. Many Delta bluesmen made their way down the river through the years and landed in New Orleans, bringing their country blues style and sound to “The Big Easy,” mixing it up with the city’s native jazz, Cajun, and ragtime styles.

More than anything else, however, the sound of New Orleans is that of rhythm. Most of the city’s music incorporates a distinctive rhythmic pattern of one sort or another, whether it’s the rhythms of a brassy jazz band or Professor Longhair’s raucous piano pounding. Most importantly, however, is the rhythm of slowness…it’s hot in New Orleans in the summertime, and humid, too, and nobody is in a big hurry to get anywhere or do anything. There’s a slower pace to the sounds of New Orleans, one that you grow, as a listener, to appreciate over time.

Ray Bonneville’s Goin’ By Feel

If Ray Bonneville has taken anything in the way of influence from New Orleans, it’s the city’s languid feel. With Goin’ By Feel, Bonneville’s sixth album, the singer and producer Gurf Morlix have managed to capture the sound of kudzu growing and cypress creaking. The songs here are saltwater-drenched, with an undeniable bluesy vibe that is reinforced by Bonneville’s soulful, gruff vocals and rich six-string pickin’. This is music as atmospheric as the fog on a Louisiana swamp at daybreak, and performed with a casual, laid-back style that is in no hurry towards its destination.

Bonneville is a natural-born storyteller, and beneath the gorgeous music on Goin’ By Feel is a raft of brilliant story-songs. An erudite songwriter with one foot in the South’s literary tradition and the other firmly planted in the narrative style of the blues, Bonneville conjures up characters and situations out of whole cloth with his vivid imagery and finely-crafted use of the language. His lyrics, when combined with the wide, loping groove of the music, create an almost fictional sense of space.

Not that Bonneville is afraid to ramp it up a bit when necessary. “What Katy Did” builds on spry rhythms with quick, dark-hued vocals and sparse, elegant fretwork. A love letter, of sorts, to New Orleans, “I Am the Big Easy” offers clever lyrics that tie together the city’s cultural wealth with the tragedy of Hurrican Katrina. By contrast, the stark “Carry the Fallen,” is a brilliant anti-war song that lyrically brings home the cost of the war in human terms.   

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

 
A gifted songwriter and skilled guitarist, Ray Bonneville brings the expansive worldview created by his travels to every word he writes and each note he plays. Incorporating elements of folk, country, soul, and blues into his distinctive sound, Bonneville weaves pure magic here with his intricate story-songs. Goin’ By Feel is a thoughtful, intelligent work of immense beauty, sincerity, and honesty. This isn’t your usual blues music, but then Ray Bonneville isn’t your average blues musician, either. (Red House Records, released April 16th, 2007)

Buy the CD from Amazon: Ray Bonneville’s Goin’ By Feel

Archive Review: Modern English’s Life In The Gladhouse 1980-1984 (2001)

It’s hard for a pop band to be all things to all people, and most satisfy their creative egos by merely finding a singular groove and flogging it to death. Modern English were one of the few outfits who managed to blend together many disparate influences – punk roots, new wave sensibilities, Goth ambiance, and industrial attitude – into creating an entirely unique and highly experimental body of music. Best known for their infectious 1982 hit “I Melt With You,” which has become a staple on classic rock radio, Modern English had an identity beyond MTV and movie soundtracks.

Life In The Gladhouse 1980-1984 presents Modern English in the band’s halcyon days, warts, pretensions, and all, and the collection of album tracks and ‘A’-side singles shows a band at least a decade ahead of their time. Masterfully blending the aforementioned musical styles and influences, Modern English created songs that were atmospheric, emotional, and intelligent. The band has much more in common with obvious creative predecessors like Roxy Music than with the legion of new wave bands that glutted MTV in the early ‘80s. Modern English sculpted sound and abstract lyrics in the creation of musical art that sounds as fresh and exciting today as it did twenty years ago. If you’re looking for a new musical thrill, want to hear something that is both familiar and yet intellectually challenging, look no further than Life In The Gladhouse 1980-1984. If you know nothing more of Modern English than “I Melt With You,” prepare to have your conceptions gladly shattered. (Beggar’s Banquet/4AD, released 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Archive Review: American Hi-Fi’s American Hi-Fi (2001)

Major record labels, being the craven, trend-mongering corporate creatures that they are, tend to sign artists that sound and look a lot like whatever’s at the top of the charts at the moment. Sexy teen cutie Britney Spears hits numero uno with a sultry pop song – sign Mandy Moore and Jessica Simpson! Teenage boys are lining up to throw down their shekels for passive hard rock from Creed – put out CDs by Papa Roach and Three Walls Down. The predictable nature of this industry inclination makes the discovery of something even slightly out-of-the-ordinary, like American Hi-Fi, all that much more satisfying.

With their self-titled debut, American Hi-Fi come on gangbusters like a modern-era Cheap Trick, all meaty hooks and monster rhythms underlining what is, at its core, good old-fashioned pop/rock. With their roots in the 1960s and their souls in the hard rocking ‘90s, American Hi-Fi crank out the jams with energy and elan, the band backing vocalist Stacy Jones’ wonderfully intelligent lyrics with radio-ready riffage and ready-for-prime time personality. Just “Flavour of the Weak” itself is a textbook example of pop/rock tuneage, the song’s teen protagonist waxing eloquent about the object of his affections who has fallen for another guy. Of course, she can’t see that she’s just a short time fling for the other guy and this poor heartbroken slob would offer his undying devotion just to be with her for a little while. It’s classic rock song territory here, folks, delivered here in an entirely refreshing and highly rocking manner.

There are other great cuts on American Hi-Fi, such as “I’m A Fool,” another unrequited love song with a recurring, underlying razor-sharp guitar line, or maybe the crashingly loud, anger-filled “My Only Enemy” will be more to your liking. You’ll hear a bunch o’ musical influences in these 13 songs, from the aforementioned Cheap Trick and obvious Beatlesque touches to elements of punk and grunge. A few songs are even possessed by the spirit of Kurt Cobain, all angst-like and feedback ridden. It’s an invigorating mix of styles, all filtered through a pair of screaming guitars and a solid rhythm section with appropriately snotty vocals. If you want an album that rocks as hard as any of the lesser poseurs on the charts these days but tips its hat to 40-plus years of rock history, take a chance on American Hi-Fi. The Rev sez “check it out!” (Island/Def Jam Records, released February 27th, 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Archive Review: Rare Earth’s The Best Of Rare Earth, The Millennium Collection (2001)

They might have well been the funkiest bunch o’ white boys to come out of the Motor City, kicking out the jams with a hybrid of Motown soul and hard rock ‘n’ roll. Much like Rodney Dangerfield, however, Rare Earth never gets any respect. Critics trashed them, the record buying public forgot them shortly after the last notes of their handful of hits had rung and, well, quite frankly, history hasn’t looked down favorably on the band. The Best of Rare Earth, a 7-track compilation released from the Motown vaults as part of the “20th Century Masters Millennium Collection” proves that these guys were ahead of their time by almost two decades.

Although they weren’t the first funkmeisters to mix create rock ‘n’ roll with R & B roots in the ‘60s – hometown heroes the MC5 did it a couple of years earlier – Rare Earth had greater success with the sound. Cuts like “Get Ready,” “Hey Big Brother” and “I Just Want To Celebrate” proved to be large hits for a relatively undistinguished bunch of players, and the songs hold up well even after thirty years. Rare Earth foreshadowed the jam bands of the ‘90s with extended instrumental passages filled to the brim with funky rhythms, rock riffs and jazzy interludes that stretched three-minute pop songs into 15- or 20-minute compositions. Sometimes tedious, sometimes exhilarating, it was nonetheless unique.

At their best, Rare Earth exemplified the sort of musical experimentation that made the late 1960s/early 1970s an exciting time for music. Anything might happen, with adventuresome bands throwing elements of country, blues, jazz, and R & B music on top of their basic roots rock sound. When they were good – as on the handful of hit singles featured on The Best of Rare Earth – the band was very good. Honestly, however, those moments were few and far between. Rare Earth’s more typical fare consisted of hackneyed R & B covers (like their slaughtering of Ray Charles’ classic “What’d I Say”), which is what earned them their reputation with critics and historians. For those listeners wanting a taste of one of rock music’s more obscure bands, I’d heartily recommend The Best of Rare Earth as a low-cost sampler that features the four big hits, which is all anyone really wants anyway... (Motown Records, released 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Archive Review: Bill Neely’s Texas Law & Justice (2001)

One of the true overlooked treasures of American roots music, songwriter Bill Neely toiled away in obscurity for decades, performing a distinctive style of “hillbilly blues” that incorporates country, blues, and folk traditions in creating an entirely unique sound. The son of a Texas sharecropper, Neely came to music through the influence of his mother, a Nashville native who played guitar, piano and accordion. It was a meeting with the legendary Jimmie Rodgers, however, that sealed Neely’s fate. The famous “Blue Yodeler” taught the youngster how to make a C chord on the guitar, a story retold by Neely’s with his classic song “On A Blackland Farm.”

Bill Neely’s Texas Law & Justice

Quitting school at the tender age of fourteen, Neely wandered the country, riding the rails and making money where he could. He worked the mines and the fields, spent time in the Army during WWII and the Korean War, later working as a cook and as a carpenter. Twenty years later, Neely settled down in Texas with a family and a trade, writing songs based on his experience and travels. During the 1960s, he became part of Austin’s early music scene, playing in local clubs both solo and with folks like Janis Joplin, Tracy Nelson, and the great Mance Lipscomb. When Neely died in 1990 of leukemia at the age of 74, he had been playing guitar for 60 years and writing his own songs for over 40 years. Yet Neely only recorded one album, On A Blackland Farm, reissued here on CD with several “bonus” tracks as Texas Law & Justice.

All of this background on Neely is necessary to understand the man who crafted the honest and authentic music preserved on disc by Texas Law & Justice. While great country blues artists like Mississippi Fred McDowell and Lightnin’ Hopkins enjoyed significant careers late in life, Neely remained largely unknown during the same time period. Yet I can hear echoes of Neely’s distinctive guitar style and lyrical abilities in such Texas troubadours as Townes Van Zandt and Guy Clark, acclaimed masters of the form. Songs like “A Soldier’s Thoughts” and “Crying the Blues Over You” are masterpieces of hillbilly blues, while the vivid imagery of “Skid Row” underlines an intelligent tale of rural innocence lost in the big city.

“Satan’s Burning Hell” is a gospel-tinged gem and “Blues On Ellem” is a Texas-style blues tune. “Never Left the Lone Star State” is a wonderful road trip through Neely’s memories while the two instrumentals included on Texas Law & Justice are inspired raves that showcase Neely’s not inconsiderable six-string skills. The one song here not written by Neely, but rather penned by a relative in 1930 – the haunting title cut “Texas Law And Justice” – is performed with great passion and energy and is all the more chilling considering the state’s dismal record of state-sanctioned executions.
    

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Too raw and realistic by today’s country music standards, Bill Neely nevertheless wrote songs of enduring life and spirit, infusing them with humor and tempered by years of hard-won experience. Artistically, I’d rank Neely as the equivalent of great bluesmen like Mississippi John Hurt and Big Bill Broonzy. That Neely’s talents remain a secret is an artistic crime, one that might be remedied by the CD release of Texas Law & Justice. With a sound that would appeal to fans of both country blues and alt-country music, Bill Neely is ripe for rediscovery. (Arhoolie Records, released 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Archive Review: Peter Green Splinter Group’s Time Traders (2001)

Eric Clapton is considered by the unwashed masses both in the U.S. and the U.K. to be the greatest British blues guitarist to ever ply his trade in the public eye. I won’t go into the reasons why this is a misguided perspective, instead I’ll offer up alternative candidates like Gary Moore, Mick Taylor, or Kim Simmonds of Savoy Brown (blooze-rock great Rory Gallagher is disqualified from this contest ‘cause he was Irish, not British).

One name that is inevitably linked to Clapton’s, tarnishing his accomplishments, is that of Peter Green, the great guitarist and Clapton’s artistic shadow. Both Green and Clapton made their bones at roughly the same time, Green replacing old “Slowhand” in John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers when the popular guitar god left to form Cream. Green found greater fame and fortune after founding Fleetwood Mac in 1967 with John McVie and Mick Fleetwood, the earliest incarnation of that band a blues powerhouse that opened the door for later blooze-rock punters like Savoy Brown, Ten Years After and Foghat.

Peter Green Splinter Group’s Time Traders

By 1970, psychedelic drugs and constant touring had ravaged Green’s mind, the guitarist quitting Fleetwood Mac to pursue religion, poverty, and anonymity. Clapton’s own struggle with heroin would result in one recorded masterpiece – the classic Layla album – before the “clean and sober” legend ran out of steam. Green lived like a hermit for much of the 1970s and ‘80s, later emerging with guitar in hand during the mid-‘90s to jump-start a career derailed by drugs and mental illness. Clapton spent the same time period embarrassing himself by releasing album after lukewarm album. For better than 25 years now, Clapton has been trading on his efforts during the ‘60s, showing glimpses of his former glory only when challenged in the studio by strong axemen like Duane Allman, Robert Cray, or B.B. King.    

We’ll never know what might have happened if Peter Green had remained a distinctive creative force during the 1970s and onward. By mid-decade, the blues had fallen out of favor with fans in the face of the punk onslaught, only to be rediscovered with the popularity of artists like the Fabulous Thunderbirds and Stevie Ray Vaughan in the 1980s. Maybe Green would have released feeble pop albums like his better-known contemporary, but after listening to Time Traders, I have my doubts. Greenie is a bluesman at heart, and on this sixth album of his extended comeback, capably assisted by his friends Splinter Group, Green makes a strong case for his own place in the rock ‘n’ roll history books.

Chicago Blues By Way of London

A better album, in my mind, than last year’s platinum-selling Clapton/B.B. King collaboration Riding With The King, Green’s Time Traders offers up a healthy dose of Chicago blues-by-way-of-London. Heavily influenced by bluesmen like Otis Rush and Muddy Waters and guitarists like B.B. King and Freddie King, Green brings a unique perspective to the legacy of these artists, throwing in elements of British jazz and big band dance sounds to the guitar-driven blues practiced by his idols. A lot of the credit for Green’s recreation can be given to Splinter Group guitarist Nigel Watson and keyboardist Roger Cotton, both of whom write the songs and coax wonderful six-string performances out of the reticent six-string wizard Green.

Time Traders is a wonderfully eclectic collection, carefully blending traditionally-oriented blues material like the mournful “Feeling Good” and “Time Keeps Slipping Away” with R&B-tinged material like the soulful “Real World” and the funky “Until the Well Runs Dry.” African rhythms permeate the upbeat “Wild Dogs” while a heavy, throbbing bass line underlines the somber, hypnotic “Uganda Woman.” Former Green acolyte Snowy White pitches in on a revisiting of Fleetwood Mac’s instrumental “Underway.” Green’s vocals across the album are appropriately world-weary, but his instrumental contributions ring clear as a bell, melding tone and texture to create breathtaking guitar passages that are refreshingly original. Watson’s six-string rhythms are rock steady, his vocals more expressive than Green’s but oddly similar in sound and intonation. Splinter Group’s rhythm section is tight in a way that only chemistry can explain, the group building a magnificent wall of sound upon with vocals and guitar are embroidered.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Time Traders is an inspiring collection of songs, a powerful showcase for Green’s talents and a hint of what might have been had Green pursued music during those “lost” years. He may not enjoy the name recognition or commercial endorsements of his colleague Clapton, but a strong argument can be made for Green’s inclusion among the giants of blues guitar. (Blue Storm Music, released 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

 

Archive Review: The Fabulous Thunderbirds’ Live (2001)

An institution among American blues-rockers, the Fabulous Thunderbirds have undergone a number of changes during a quarter-century long career, not all of them positive or encouraging. With the release of this energetic live album, however, Kim Wilson and his blues posse seem to be back on track with a high-octane “greatest hits” set that revisits old T-Birds classics as well as outlines a potential roadmap for the band’s future.

Live was recorded at a special event in February 2000, a private party of 200 friends and fans on hand to hear the band make history with their “This Night In L.A.” internet broadcast. The show was captured as one of the first high-resolution multi-track recordings made of a live performance, and the quality shows in the CD version offered on Live (the show is also available on DVD). The material chosen by the Thunderbirds for this broadcast includes the usual mix of guitar-driven Texas blues and soul-infused R&B tunes. The band throws out inspired covers like the rollicking “My Babe” and the potent “The Things I Used To Do” alongside choice originals such as the hit “Tuff Enough” and “I Believe I’m In Love.” Wilson’s baritone vocals always hit the mark and guitarist “Kid” Ramos stands tall with stellar leads that evoke memories of his predecessors Jimmie Vaughan and Duke Robillard while retaining an original character and identity.

Live is an infectious collection of songs, a 90-mph romp across the blooze-rock landscape that will leave the listener breathless and thirsting for more. The Fabulous Thunderbirds have long been a favorite on the performance circuit, their reputation built on muscular, dynamic live sets and bandleader Wilson’s soulful selection of material. The Live CD lives up to and furthers the T-Birds’ reputation as one of the best bands you’ll ever see perform onstage. (CMC International, released 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Archive Review: Dead Kennedys’ Mutiny On the Bay (2001)

The Dead Kennedys never released a live album during their brief yet notorious career as America’s favorite hardcore bad boys. The legendary punk outfit’s incendiary live performances have nevertheless been well represented by a handful of bootleg albums and videos, the best of which is probably Jello’s Revenge (Armed Response Records), culled from San Francisco club shows in 1979 and 1985. Mutiny On the Bay is the first “authorized” DK live disc, part of Manifesto’s reissuing of the Dead Kennedys’ catalog under the aegis of band members East Bay Ray, D.H. Peligro, and Klaus Flouride and against the wishes of vocalist/songwriter Jello Biafra, who has disavowed the reissues.  

Dead Kennedys’ Mutiny On the Bay

Mutiny On the Bay presents not a single entire performance but rather pieces of four different shows that date from 1982 and 1986. The original soundboard tapes have been digitally remastered but manage to retain a fair degree of their original energy and grunge. I hate to disagree with my old buddy Jello, who has publicly dissed Mutiny On the Bay, but this is a hell of a collection. A veritable “who’s who” of DK’s greatest hits, this fourteen song set offers those of us who never got to witness the band live a taste of what bootleg videos only hinted at.

Almost all the great DK songs are here, from “Police Truck” and “Kill the Poor” to “Hell Nation” and “MTV – Get Off the Air.” The energy in these tracks is undeniable; Biafra’s warbling, operatic vocals jumping out of the speakers above East Bay Ray’s slashing six-string work. One of the band’s signature songs, “Holiday In Cambodia,” offers some fiery fretwork courtesy of East Bay Ray while the Flouride/Peligro rhythmic assault that opens “California Uber Alles” provides powerful punctuation to Biafra’s angry vocals. The production seamlessly stitches together the performances; often tying songs together with Biafra’s onstage comments and smoothing out the rough edges so that the entire collection sounds like one lengthy performance. Perhaps some of the spontaneity is lost in this digital translation, but the quality of these performances shine through nonetheless and there is plenty of feedback and stage noise present for the purist.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

There are some good Dead Kennedys’ bootlegs still circulating around in trading circles, but Mutiny On The Bay puts most, if not all of them to shame. If all you know of the Dead Kennedys is their reputation, then Mutiny On The Bay, coupled with the band’s incredible debut, Fresh Fruit For Rotting Vegetables, are perfect introductions to the band’s legacy. Let’s hope that Manifesto has some other live material of this quality stashed away in the vault for future release. The Dead Kennedys were one of the most influential hardcore punk bands of the 1980s; their importance based on live performances like those captured by Mutiny On The Bay. Let’s hear some more! (Manifesto Records, released 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Archive Review: Mad For The Racket’s The Racketeers (2001)

Wayne Kramer is a survivor in every sense of the word. From the legendary MC5 in the 1960s through collaborations with Mick Farren (The Deviants), Deniz Tek (Radio Birdman), and Johnny Thunders in the 1980s and ‘90s to Mad For The Racket, his new project, Kramer has enjoyed a lengthy and impressive music career. If most of his almost forty years in the biz seem to have been spent at odds with the establishment, that’s their problem, not his. As Kramer enters his fifth decade as an artist and musician, he does so with a new CD, a new label, and some old friends.

Mad For The Racket’s The Racketeers

Primarily a collaboration between Kramer and former Damned/Lords of the New Church axeman Brian James, Mad For The Racket also includes the instrumental contributions of Blondie drummer Clem Burke and former Guns ‘N’ Roses bassist Duff McKagan. Stewart Copeland sits behind the kit for a song or two, as does longtime Kramer drummer Brock Avery. The Racketeers is a guitar showcase, however, and in spite of the impressive credentials of the various rhythm-makers, it is the slash-and-burn dueling six-strings of Kramer and James that dominate the proceedings. Swapping red-hot riffs and vocal duties, much like Kramer did with Tek on the excellent Dodge Main CD, the two guitarists are similar enough stylists to make these songs work. They differ enough in their approach, however, that they manage to create some live-wire tension in the grooves.

Wayne Kramer/MC5

The sound cranked out by Mad For The Racket is standard hardcore roots rock, filled with razor-sharp ribbons of six-string work, thundering rhythms, and old school punk attitude. The material here is not that dissimilar from that which Kramer kicked out on a trio of studio albums for Epitaph, overlooked classics that showcased his vastly underrated guitar style and ever-maturing songwriting skills. On The Racketeers, Kramer and James share the songwriting duties, sometimes resulting in a dud like the heavy-handed “Prisoner of Hope,” with Kramer’s over-the-top vocal histrionics mangling hackneyed lyrics. Kramer has done better on his own with similarly themed material. More often than not, however, the pair has created winners like the dark, disturbing “Tell A Lie,” the seedy “Czar of Poisonville” or the blazing “Chewed Down To the Bone.”

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Kramer’s vocals are always adequate, unique, and easily identifiable, flawed but forceful. James’ pipes are weaker but meet the challenge of the material, sometimes sounding like former bandmate Stiv Bators; other times – as on the lively “I Want It” – James sounds like a young Iggy Pop. Both play the guitar like maniacs, loco mosquitoes hell-bent on tearing down the walls with the sound of their axes alone. Together, the two grizzled rock ‘n’ roll veterans have created an entertaining and hard-rocking collection of songs, an album that showcases their strengths and furthers their already considerable legacies. The Racketeers is the sound of punk rock entering middle age, and for Wayne Kramer and Brian James, they refuse to go quietly into that good night. (MuscleTone Records, released 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Archive Review: Peter Tosh’s Live & Dangerous Boston 1976 (2001)

When the reggae is mentioned to the casual fan, the first name that comes to mind is Bob Marley. If the person is really into the “island riddims,” then they might throw names like Jimmy Cliff or Steel Pulse at you. An original member of the Wailers with Marley, Peter Tosh is the ultimate reggae cult artist – popular enough to attract new fans to his music years after his death, but too hardcore and edgy to appeal to a mainstream audience. Whereas Marley softened his songs of struggle and liberation with a healthy dose of melody and “peace and love” styled lyrics, Tosh was raw, politically outspoken, and brutally honest, sort of the “punk rocker” of Jamaican reggae.

Peter Tosh’s Live & Dangerous Boston 1976

To many of his fans, Tosh’s uncompromising stance and undistilled sound were part of the artist’s charm, and his albums from the ‘70s – classics like Equal Rights and Legalize It – stand up well to repeated listening today. Unlike his former bandmate Marley, Tosh’s musical catalog has remained fairly static, which makes the release of Live & Dangerous Boston 1976 a treat for the longtime fan. For his first American tour, in support of his debut album, Tosh assembled a band that included both Jamaican and American musicians, and which he subsequently dubbed “Word, Sound and Power.” Beginning with bassist Robbie Shakespeare and drummer Sly Dunbar, the greatest reggae rhythm pairing that the genre has ever seen, Tosh added the lead guitars of New Jersey native Al Anderson and bluesman Donald Kinsey. Twin keyboards were provided by Earl “Wire” Lindo and Errol “Tarzan” Nelson, with vocals and rhythm guitar from Tosh, and thus the stage was set for as dynamic a reggae band as you could ever ask for.

Live & Dangerous Boston 1976, taken from a November performance in nearby college-town Cambridge, is more-or-less typical Tosh. One of the most outwardly political of the Rasta artists, Tosh was a strong lyricist who wrote of the struggle of the poor and dispossessed against the police, the government and the corporations that oppressed them. You’ll find a healthy dose of political content here; songs like “400 Years,” “Babylon Queendom” and “Mark of The Beast” among some of the best that Tosh has written. There are some laid-back performances as well, songs like “Burial” or “Ketchy Shuby” featuring mellow Rasta grooves matched by winsome vocals heavy with island patois, and there are the usual spiritual numbers like “Igziabeher (Let Jah Be Praised).” The band is phenomenal, tight as the proverbial drum, providing the proper backdrop for Tosh’s charismatic and electric performances.
    

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Peter Tosh’s Live & Dangerous Boston 1976 is a fine documentation of a night’s performance by one of reggae’s most important artists. One minor cavil must be expressed, however – the eleven songs presented here time out at seventy-five minutes and change, but only seem to scratch the surface of the night recalled by former Tosh manager Herbie Miller’s liner notes. Where are the performances of “Legalize It” or “Apartheid,” important songs from the Tosh canon and both from the album he was touring to promote? Perhaps a double-CD set clocked at 90 minutes might have served Tosh fans better? This oversight would gladly be overlooked if Legacy digs up, and releases some other vintage Tosh performances from their vaults. (Legacy Recordings, released 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Archive Review: Corporate Avenger’s Freedom Is A State of Mind (2001)

With the departure of Zach de la Rocha from Rage Against the Machine, the other members of the band are left merely whimpering at the machine while other outfits steal the thundering sound they made their bones with. Although the musical landscape is littered with the corpses of a thousand and one metal-tinged hip-hop Rage wannabes (Fred Durst, your 15 minutes are up buddy…), the band’s social consciousness and politikal rage lives on in Corporate Avenger. With the explosive Freedom Is A State of Mind, Corporate Avenger lyrically tackle the gamut of social issues, matching their incendiary lyrics with muscular riffs, ringing chords and blistering rhythms.

Corporate Avenger’s Freedom Is A State of Mind

Fueled by the powerful twin lead vocals of the Corporate Avenger (Spike Xavier) and Adawee the Wind, Corporate Avenger is a conceptual band, mixing radikal politics with extreme performance art and musical chops that include elements of heavy metal, hard rock, rap, and punk. I hear strains of Black Flag, Govt. Issue, and Public Enemy in these grooves, the music created by Mike Kumagai and producer Daddy X from the Kottonmouth Kings. Like no band since Public Enemy, Corporate Avenger blazes new trails, creating a sound that is both familiar and totally unlike any band that you’ve heard before. Raucous and obnoxious, Corporate Avenger throws caution to the wind with wailing guitars, lightning-quick turntable scratching courtesy of DJ Hall of Records, anarchistic samples, big beats, and monster rhythms.

It’s the band’s lyrics that capture the imagination, though; perhaps the most controversial anti-capitalist screeds ever committed to a musical treatment. Although a major label deal allowed Rage Against the Machine to bring the band’s radikal worldview to a mainstream audience, there was always an uneasy vibe around their act, a feeling that they might have watered down the message to slip it past their corporate masters. There’s no such feeling with Corporate Avenger – this is the real shit, as hardcore as a Molotov cocktail and as dangerous as a rabid Doberman. Freedom Is A State of Mind leaves no sacred cow unslaughtered, bludgeoning the listener with sound and imagery that preaches an undeniable message of tribal brotherhood even while it damns the system that keeps people poor, confused, and uneducated.

An Alternative History Lesson

The songs on Freedom Is A State of Mind are intelligent, well researched, and articulate. The band doesn’t merely mouth leftist platitudes, but explain the reason for their perspective with their lyrics. Whether singing about the oppression of the Native American (“Christians Murdered Indians” “$20 Bill”), the corrupt nature of organized religion (“The Bible Is Bullshit”) or the social injustice and racial implications of the “war on drugs” (“FBI File”), their lyrics are consistently challenging and though-provoking. Sometimes they seem to purposely piss people off, like with “Jesus Christ Homosexual” which asks if the so-called savior might have been a homosexual. By mixing two mythological Christian icons (Jesus and the degenerate homo) in one song, Corporate Avenger manages to bait the fundamentalist Christian right while providing food for thought for the rest of us.  

Every track here is like an alternative history lesson as given by Noam Chomsky or Howard Zinn, Corporate Avenger cramming more academic information into a four-minute rock song than many young listeners walk away with after four years of college. As the band states in the liner notes to Freedom Is A State Of Mind, “the songs are written in the language that we speak every day, it is not intended to be offensive. While this message is for everyone, this record may not be.” The controversy surrounding the band has led hypocritical Christian groups like the Promise Keepers and the American Family Organization to work towards pressuring retailers to keep the CD out of their stores. The band currently receives 10 to 20 death threats each week, no doubt from these “good Christians,” and several cable networks, including MTV and Comedy Central have refused to air advertising for the album.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

Although Corporate Avenger is making the right enemies, their message deserves to be heard. Critics usually dismiss politikal rock bands out-of-hand, stating that music and politics don’t mix and lyrics don’t influence anybody, anyway. I strongly disagree with this perspective. Freedom Is A State of Mind is a turning point for rock music, a revival of social consciousness after too many years of mindless pop bullshit and corporate-crafted “modern rock.” With Freedom Is A State of Mind, Corporate Avenger is providing a soundtrack for the new millennium, one that is aggressively pro-human being and anti-government and anti-corporation. This is music to riot by and this is one critic who is ready to throw the first stone. (Koch Records, released 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine 

 

Archive Review: Perry Ferrell’s Song To Be Sung (2001)

Regardless of his alt-rock pedigree, this humble scribe has never thought much of former Jane’s Addiction/Porno For Pyros frontman Perry Ferrell. He possesses a powerful and expressive voice and, aided and abetted by guitarist Dave Navarro, managed to create a unique sound with Jane’s Addiction that would influence a generation of bands. In an attempt to always be the smartest kid in class, Ferrell managed to people his songs with the worst sort of pretentious lyrical garbage that his unfettered id could put on paper. Song Yet To Be Sung is no different, really, Ferrell merely providing his new age English lit lyrics with a different underlying soundscape. It is this music that makes Song Yet To Be Sung work as an album, however, Ferrell’s delusions of poetic grandeur notwithstanding.

Blending alt-rock riffs with Worldbeat rhythms and a heavy dose of technologically-assisted electronica, Ferrell has created a lush musical structure on which to layer endless guitars, drums, and keyboards. Ferrell’s voice is simply mesmerizing on songs like “Happy Birthday Jubilee” or “Say Something,” soaring through the mix while musical contributors like Dave Navarro, Ray McVeigh, Krish Sharma, and Brendan Hawkins lay down a rhythmic, trance-like groove. Sort of like an advertising jingle that gets stuck in your mind, Song Yet To Be Sung is contagious, a guilty pleasure that you have to give in to. Although Perry Ferrell is still up to his old tricks while he continues to search for the perfect beat, Song Yet To Be Sung is a welcome musical oasis along his journey. (Virgin Records, released July 16th, 2001)
 
Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine

Archive Review: The Strokes’ Is This It (2001)

New York City rockers the Strokes have been on the receiving end of massive bloato-hype, mostly from the British music press. Proclaimed the saviors of rock ‘n’ roll, the overabundance of critical enthusiasm directed towards the Strokes is understandable. In a world populated with pop pap and watered-down “modern” rock, old-school rockers such as myself (and, presumably, rockcrits at NME, Mojo, and Q) thirst for the real thing. Luckily, the band’s much anticipated debut lives up to almost every promise made for the Strokes.

The Strokes’ Is This It

Roaring out of the “Big Apple” with a slack-rock sound that is firmly based in the garage band vibe of the 1960s and ‘70s-styled D.I.Y. punk fervor, the Strokes are a revelation. Vocalist Julian Casablancas sounds like a youthful Lou Reed and affects an on-stage wardrobe that mimics a young Bryan Ferry. Guitarists Nick Valensi and Albert Hammond Jr. keep a steady flame burning throughout the songs with ever-present riffs that result in a virtual wall-of-sound. A strong rhythm section of bassist Nikolai Fraiture and Fab Moretti build a solid bottom line; together the instrumentalists create a fat, dense and sometimes chaotic signature beneath Casablancas’ vocals. Kudos are also due to producer Gordon Raphael, whose subtle hand captured the band at its grungy best, warts and all. No Pro Tools manipulation here – Raphael leaves the sound muddy and noisy, the vocals often struggling above the mix and the entire affair wheezing and rattling like my aging ’74 Mercury four-door.

“What about the music,” you ask? Think of the Replacements minus Westerburg’s melancholy, the Velvet Underground with Ron Asheton on guitar, and Brill Building pop filtered through the New York Dolls and you’ll come near hitting the mark. I don’t understand half of what Casablancas is singing about, but when you can make out his lyrics, you’re overwhelmed by the verbal gymnastics and clever wordplay. The material on Is This It rocks without qualification. An irregular rhythm kicks off “The Modern Age,” a New Values-era Iggy soundalike with a wire-taut guitar lead and driving instrumentation. “Barely Legal” has a nifty circular riff and muddy, echoed vocals and bittersweet lyrics while “Someday” has some ultra-cool doo-wop rhythms and pleading vocals. “New York City Cops” offers some tongue-in-cheek humor about New York’s finest, a story-song with a raging chorus and wickedly delicious rhythms.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

In the wake of September 11th tragedy, RCA pulled the original recorded version of Is This It and substituted in the place of the stronger “New York City Cops” lest listeners feel that the band was overly-critical of the N.Y.P.D. They also replaced the more attractive cover artwork available on the British import in favor of a psychedelic swirl cover for the U.S. market. The music stands on its own regardless of these feeble marketing ploys, and there are still plenty of copies of the import disc to be found (and well worth getting even if for the one song). In the tradition of other cult-rockers like the Dictators, the Flamin’ Groovies or the New York Dolls, the Strokes draw inspiration from the primal wellspring of sound and energy from which classic rock ‘n’ roll is born, commercial considerations be damned. (RCA Records - U.K. import, released August 27th, 2001)

Review originally published by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine