Archive Review: The Beat Farmers’ Viking Lullabies (1994)

Forget about all of these Stetson-clad poseurs roaming the streets of the Music City, claiming that they grew up listening to both George Jones and the Rolling Stones. For reckless country soul, few bands can top the frenzy whipped up by these boys, the Beat Farmers. Sure, it’s been a few years, but the Farmers have returned with a new disc – Viking Lullabies – on Austin’s Sector 2 label and let me tell ya, hoss, this sucker ROCKS!

The opening cut, “Southern Cross,” offers up a guitar line reminiscent of D.L. Byron’s long lost album, setting the stage for a baker’s dozen that run the gamut from the sublime (“Garden”) to the absurd (“Are You Drinkin’ With Me Jesus?,” and the hilarious closing cut, “Lakeside Trailer Park”). Vocals on the former two songs – honest-to-god, beer swilling, tears-in-the-eyes numbers that even Ernest Tubb would be proud of – are courtesy of the legendary Country Dick Montana, who has bounced back from throat cancer to deliver these near classic performances. 

Long ago, the Beat Farmers built a reputation for excellent showmanship and solid performances, blending hard-edged roots rock with country traditionalism. Along with Nashville’s own Jason and the Scorchers, they transcended the unfortunate early ‘80s “cowpunk” label to create a true musical bridge between the two genres. With Viking Lullabies, possibly the band’s best effort yet, you can say that the Beat Farmers have come roaring back. (Sector 2 Records, released 1994)

Review originally published by R.A.D! zine, November 1994

Archive Review: Jello Biafra & Mojo Nixon’ Prairie Home Invasion (1994)

At long last! A full length Jello Biafra and Mojo Nixon CD! Thank-you, Jesus! Hallelujah!

Folks, I’ve played this disc until my ears bled, then I played it some more. I’ve even masturbated to this CD; it’s that good. Thirteen kick-ass songs, poking fun at everything from lumberjacks to atomic power, McDonald’s, liberals, Jesus (again, thanks Jesus!), truckers, Nashville, even “nostalgia for an age that never existed.” The music is way cool pseudo-country that wouldn’t sound too out of place on most of Nashville’s radio stations; the lyrics, however, would probably get said radio station burned to the ground if any of the locals really listened to what was being said. 

Jello does most of the singing, with Mojo’s vocals taking a lesser role. Mojo plays instruments on a few tracks, though. The backing band is Mojo’s Toadliquors (of course). Notably absent is ex-Beat Farmers’ Country Dick. The CD insert was constructed by John Yates and Jello, with contributions from a whole slew of folks, including regular Biafra collaborator Winston Smith. There are a few Tom Tomorrow cartoons scattered about the insert as well. 

As for Prairie Home Invasion, three thumbs up, way high in the air. Throttle your local music store salesperson if they don’t have it. Play it at 300 dB when you get it! The whole shebang was recorded in the Promised Land – Austin, Texas. Mojo wants you to send him UFO, hillbilly, & ninja information at P.O. Box 620-816, San Diego, CA 92162. Hallelujah! (Alternative Tentacles Records, released 1994)

Review originally published by R.A.D! zine, July 1994 

Archive Review: The Ramones’ Acid Eaters (1993)

When the generally useless Guns ‘N’ Roses went to the well to draw forth an album of covers to record, they turned mostly to 1970s-era punk and metal in illustrating their somewhat shallow roots. Even though bands like the Damned, Fear, and the Germs produced some great music, the first rule in remaking a song is to improve upon it; failing that, honor it by playing it as close to the original as possible. G’N’R did neither, instead merely coming across as tired poseurs cranking out an album to meet contractual obligations.

The Ramones’ Acid Eaters

Now along comes Acid Eaters, the Ramones’ entry into this covers circus. That the foursome from Queens should do an album of cover tunes should really come as no surprise to longtime fans of the band. It certainly came as no surprise to this critic – the handful of brief interviews that I’ve had with frontman Joey Ramone have always degenerated into drunken discussions of old records. That Joey, et al should reach into their record collections and pull out such a handful of musical gems is a testimony not only to their collective tastes, but also to the hidden talents of a band most often dismissed as ‘one dimensional.’

Whereas the aforementioned chart idols predictably championed the ‘70s as their main musical influence, the Ramones turn to the ‘60s godfathers and forebears of punk for their cover selections, including on Acid Eaters a number of expected choices and more than a few pleasant surprises. There’s really not a bad cut to be found on Acid Eaters, as the Ramones provide their typical edge and three-chord manic energy to such oldies as the Who’s “Substitute,” the Stones’ obscurity “Out of Time,” or Love’s “7 and 7 Is.” 

Quite surprising is the inclusion of John Fogerty’s CCR classic, “Have You Ever Seen the Rain,” a Byrds-influenced rendition of Dylan’s “My Back Pages,” and an inspired nod to the Animals with Eric Burdon’s “When I Was Young.” Covers of the Yardbirds, the Amboy Dukes (the 17-year-old Ted Nugent’s first band), the Beach Boys, Jefferson Airplane, the Troggs, and Sky Saxon round out Acid Eaters.

The Reverend’s Bottom Line

At its best, recording an album of other people’s songs should showcase an artist’s roots, the influences that served in creating his or her own work. At its worst, an album of covers still managed to introduce young fans to the work of older artists. With Acid Eaters, the Ramones accomplish both, and do it well, opening new musical doors for its young listeners even while the band pays their respects to their elders and peers. No higher praise could be given... (Radioactive Records, released December 1st, 1993)

Review originally published by R.A.D! zine, March 1994

The Ramones photo by Danny Clinch, courtesy Fox Broadcasting

 

Archive Review: Psychic TV’s Hex Sex (1994)

By now, all of you certainly know the story – Throbbing Gristle, the artistic progenitors of Psychic TV, created the genre of industrial music back during the seventies punk era. Since their subsequent founding in 1982, Psychic TV has further supported and influenced the industrial style, infusing it with elements of Crowley and the occult, primitive ritual and ancient mythology and an anarchistic spirit. Fifteen years down the road, however, and look where it’s gotten us...the original focus of industrial music has been lost as apocalyptic pop stars grace the Top 40.

Lost among the many musical achievements of PTV is one startling truth, however, that you may not know, or don’t realize: Psychic TV may be a lot of things, but first and foremost, they’re a great pop band. That said, let’s move on to the proof: Hex Sex, the first of two discs collecting the cream of PTV’s prolific output of 7” and 12” singles. Relegated to cult status on this side of the pond, PTV has nonetheless had a healthy ride upon the British charts, and most of those hits can be found here. 

From the band’s energetic reworking of the Beach Boys’ “Good Vibrations” to their passionate ode to the late Rolling Stone Brian Jones, “Godstar”; from the brutal exclamation of “Eve of Destruction” to their orgasmic rendering of “Je T’aime” or original, more experimental cuts like “Supermale” or “Magick Defends Itself,” Psychic TV have defined the cutting edge of creativity. 

At their best, Psychic TV will make you rethink what you know and believe about music, society and yourself; at their worst, PTV is still artistically exciting. Hex Sex is a fine documentary of some of the band’s more accessible moments...which is not to say that these cuts won’t draw blood. This is 21st century pop for those unafraid to look into the abyss, and should be treated as such. (Cleopatra Records, released 1994)

Review originally published by R.A.D! zine, March 1994

Psychic TV

 

Archive Review: Nik Turner’s Sphynx (1993)

In the early ‘70s, as part of the legendary and influential British band Hawkwind, Nik Turner frequently explored the outer reaches of human consciousness, both musically and lyrically, taking the listener on an aural journey to strange lands that mixed science fiction, fantasy and magick in creating a truly surreal landscape. Hawkwind’s legacy can be found in many of today’s top experimental artists, from The Orb to Psychick TV. Since those heady days, the enigmatic Turner has expressed himself equally as tantalizingly through bands like Sphynx and Inner City Unit. With Sphynx, the album (no connection to his earlier band), Turner’s first recording in seven years, he continues down a similar path, transporting us musically to an ancient Egypt full of mystery.

With a band that includes a former Hawkwind mate, guitarist Helios Creed, Turner has created a truly amazing musical reality. This 70-minute sojourn will take you across the desert sands to the Great Pyramid, with proper attention and homage paid to the old gods Anubis, Isis, and Osiris along the way. Through timeless invocations and poetic sacrifice, Turner has made Sphynx a beautiful tapestry of otherworldly psychedelia, hallucinogenic rhythms, synthesized sound, and cold chrome guitar riffs. It is an invigorating, mind-expanding journey, a complex and exciting experience that you’ll want to delve into again and again, as the music and your imagination both come alive in a blur of color and reality. (Cleopatra Records, released 1993) 

Review originally published by R.A.D! zine, December 1993

Archive Review: Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell II: Back Into Hell (1993)

Some 16 years ago, an unknown vocalist by the name of Meat Loaf, fresh from a stint with Ted Nugent’s mid-’70 Free For All band, hooked up with a songwriter named Jim Steinman and recorded what was destined to become a rock classic: the Bat Out of Hell album. Critics hated it with a passion, but to an American audience sick of watered-down rock ‘n’ roll, disgusted with disco and unfamiliar with the punk stirrings a continent away, Bat Out of Hell – with its bombastic, guitar-driven tales of young lust, alienation, and romance – was bigger than life. The album has been a consistent best seller since its 1977 release.

After a much publicized and highly public split, Steinman went on to write a handful of hits for artists like Bonnie Tyler, while Meat Loaf recorded a bunch of albums (some good, some not so good) in a battle against obscurity. To the benefit of an audience still starved for the real rock thing, the duo has reunited to create a sequel to one of the most enduring albums in rock history.

Slapping Bat Out of Hell II: Back Into Hell onto the CD player is like being 19 again. This is the elusive pulse of rock ‘n’ roll, that hard-to-capture spirit of the music and all of its promise that makes Bat Out of Hell II and its predecessor work so well. It’s like trying to tell a stranger about rock ‘n’ roll – if they don’t get it, chances are, they never will. This disc is loud, overblown, and exaggerated, but it’s also got more hooks than a Bassmasters tournament and it rocks like a house afire. Even as history repeated itself and critics slagged Bat Out of Hell II, it shot straight up to number one upon its release.

The world is a different place than 1977, though, and this sequel reflects the urgency and identity of the decade. The cynicism of “Life Is A Lemon and I Want My Money Back,” the erotic fantasies of “Out of the Frying Pan (and Into the Fire),” the confusion of “It Just Won’t Quit” all play to a different time and place. It’s the two key cuts here, however – the idealistic, decade-old “Rock and Roll Dreams Come Through” and “Wasted Youth/Everything Louder Than Everything Else” – that serve as the youthful anthems around which all else revolves. It’s the energy, the hope provided by these songs, and in rock music, that attracts the audience. It’s what Meat Loaf does best. It may be better to burn out than to fade away, and I’m glad that Meat Loaf captured the chance to burn brightly again. (MCA Records, released 1993)

Review originally published by R.A.D! zine, December 1983

Archive Review: Copernicus’s No Borderline (1993)

Some say that he is a madman, others a genius. I personally prefer the latter, viewing Copernicus as one of those great eccentrics that rock ‘n’ roll has a tendency to spawn and nurture, a crazed artist working on a plane distinctly above our own. It’s up to us to rise to his level, not expect him to lower himself to ours.

“Few men have imagination enough for reality,” is the quote from Goethe which graces the back cover of No Borderline, the fifth, and possibly the most oblique and confusing Copernicus album yet. Copernicus chants poetry like some tribal shaman, his deep baritone voice delivering mesmerizing stream-of-consciousness-styled lyrics that are backed by an amazingly diverse combination of musical styles, from progressive rock to avant-garde jazz. The ten cuts presented here aren’t so much songs, as one would expect them, but rather the many separate glimmering facets of the same musical gem. 

They are best taken as a whole, the experience anything but passive as the listener is pulled into a fantasy world of Copernicus’ creation. I’ll leave it up to each individual to reach a sort of understanding as to the underlying message of No Borderline. Suffice it to say that Copernicus is that rarest of creatures, a true visionary, playing by rules of his own making on a field of his own imagination. (Nevermore Records, released 1993)

Review originally published by R.A.D! zine, October 1993

Copernicus

 

Archive Review: Sepultura’s Chaos A.D. (1993)

With Chaos A.D., Sepultura lay claim to being the baddest thrash outfit on the planet, delivering an album so awesomely full of monster riffs and rhythms that you’ll have to reinforce the floors and walls before playing it at a truly appropriate volume. Singer Max Cavalera’s muscular vocals are supported by a gifted trio of musicians, from the ringing guitars of six-string maniac Andreas Kisser to the rhythm section of bassist Paolo Jr. and drummer Igor Cavalera. Together, this Brazilian quartet make some of the toughest, meanest music to be found in any rock style today.

Underlying and often overshadowed by Sepultura’s powerful music is their lyrical subversion. Brazil’s best-known export are also musical freedom fighters, guerilla poets using their words as weapons to showcase the ills of a world gone mad. Thrash is a music made for political commentary, and Sepultura utilize it to its fullest, breathing passion and fire into songs like the apocalyptic “Refuse/Resist,” the violent “Manifest” or the haunting world-view of the Jello Biafra-penned “Biotech Is Godzilla.” 

The wonderful instrumental “Kaiowas,” inspired by a Brasilian Indian tribe who committed suicide rather than be oppressed by the powers of authority, provides a welcome break in the fury. Most of Chaos A.D. is appropriately unrelenting, however, with Andy Wallace’s fine production brightening the already sharp instrument that is Sepultura. If the band’s last album, Arise, was their big breakthrough, then Chaos A.D. is their destiny. (Roadrunner/Epic Records, released 1993)

Review originally published by R.A.D! zine, December 1993

Archive Review: Elliott Murphy’s Unreal City (1993)

This was released several months ago, the return of singer/songwriter Elliott Murphy to these shores, and it’s been growing on me, nagging me to review it ever since I got it. It keeps returning to the CD player, each new spin offering some new insight or phrase that I missed the first time out. Murphy lives up to every claim ever made for him as a songwriter, an artist so poetically gifted that he throws away lines that lesser writers would base entire works on.

In the way of background, after a handful of under-hyped, under-appreciated late ‘70s/early ‘80s albums, which earned massive amounts of critical acclaim heaped upon near-total commercial failure, Murphy split to find some respect and mystery in Europe. Unreal City is a diary, of sorts, of the past decade’s adventures. Each song on Unreal City tells a story, presenting a lyrical postcard of a place, a memory, an emotion...

An artist in paradise, Murphy is following the trail of such literary greats as Fitzgerald or Hemingway. He remains unsure of himself, however, as on “Destiny,” when he sings “thought I was a romantic/when I crossed the Atlantic/ but that didn’t change the tide/but that’s a different story/in the search for love and glory/there’s no place left to hide...” Much of the album possesses a dark shadow to it, with lonliness and mortality often explored. On the haunting “On Elvis Presley’s Birthday,” Murphy remembers his childhood, his late father, and uses Elvis as an icon of both, singing “driving in his Cadillac/it was Elvis Presley’s birthday/they said it on the radio/my father liked Elvis and it was wonderful.” The song sadly ends, though, with the verse, “this is an unreal city/you can be anybody you want to be/when you’re alone.” It speaks to the memories which fuel the dreamer in each of us.

Through all of the travels presented on Unreal City, the joy and the tears, the acute observations on love and life, it is the birth of his son in Paris, inspiring the writing of the album’s closer, “Let It Rain,” which brings this sojourn full-circle. “Ever since I was a child,” begins Elliott, “my manner described as mild/it was always too late to estimate/the force of the hurricane blowing in my head.” He ends this opus of faith renewed, and, indeed, the album’s story, by denying the fates their victory. In joy he sings, “I believe in love/I believe in birth/I believe in giving something back to the earth...so let it rain.” It is as powerful an affirmation of life as has been written, by one of the rock genre’s most talented yet unknown artists. (Razor & Tie Music, released 1993) 

Originally published by R.A.D! zine, October 1993

Also on That Devil Music: Elliott Murphy’s Notes From the Underground CD review