TUNES WITH TENDENCIES

 

Billi and Patti, Love and Other 4 Letter Words cd (Billi/Patti, P.O. Box 10763, Bradenton, FL, 34282-0763, (941) 755-2882, www.billiandpatti.com)

 

                I was sent this, along with Patti B’s BREAKIN’ THROUGH (on which the singer lists Sass Jordan as an influence – nice to see SOMEONE in the States heard those records!).  The latter record is a bit more rocking, while this CD is, though not mellow as such, certainly more in a folky/country/Indigo Girls mode.

 

                I like it, though, because it never gets precious or weepy for its own sake (in other words, not manipulative).  While I am surmising, from the website and just my general wonky sensors, that there is a tendency towards non-heterosexuality in this group, there is nothing in the music that would necessarily alienate straights (darn it J).  Be it “Believe In Change” or “Until There Is A Cure”, there is no end of hope and striving and life in this release, and I like its gentle but firm vibe.

 

 

                These sessions, ranging from 1971 to 1981, had various sections released on LP in those years, but some of these selections were refused by the labels at the time and are surfacing now for the first time.

 

                Given the diverse studios, musicians, etc. (though there is some carry-over), it is not, per se, a cohesive statement, but the poet’s baritone voice (which, despite Marianne Faithfull’s suggestion he should not sing (an interesting commentator on that, in light of the proximity of HER voice by that time to ‘sweet’), I find pleasing – but, then, I like deep voiced bearded men…call it a weakness…) and the clever, sympathetic backing on such pieces as “Gay Lib Rag” and “Everybody Sings” transcends matters of genre (though it might be loosely described as folksy blues, for the most part).  Alternately profound and filthy – and if that isn’t rock and roll, what is?

 

 

                Yes, this is the Journey song, given a dance tweak.  It goes through four mixes, ranging from the insistent repetitive beat and pulsating sequencers of “Original Club Mix”,  to the succinct “Radio Edit” (as one might guess, it’s reasonably close to the original feel, though, of course, with an electronic/disco twist) to the aptly titled “Twisted Dee” mix (with its timbale sounds and its stripped down to mostly beat-and-bass through the verses, with swirly phased synths in the chorus (mostly withholding the synth/guitar hook – tease!)) and the appropriately driven/synth-horn-kissed “Julian Marsh Power Drive Mix” – all topped by the pleasantly soulful, vaguely George Michaelish, tenor (I think) vocals of Brian Kent, who, judging from his publicity shots, could trigger my ‘woofy cub/otter’ meter.  (Dare I confess that, in high school, I thought Steve Perry was cute? Evidently, I do dare…)

 

As to “I’m Not Crazy”, the original tune, it’s a solid piece of dance pop.   The main mix begins with a burst of vocoder, one of my fave cheesy electronic devices, and carries on with swelling synths, a solid simple beat and some scratch guitar, all topped by a confident and tuneful voice.  The “Haarmeyer Club Mix” is a bit more subdued, with some nice Philly string stabs.  The “Mike Cruz vocal mix”

has a whomping bass drum that could probably kill at club volume, with a timbale figure on top, and a very echoed voice, and some fuzzy synth noises towards the end (I don’t know how to describe them – as I warned the folks who sent this to me, I’m not up on my dance music terms/production standards…).  It all concludes with another “Twisted Dee” mix – again, a quirky mix, with the vocals in a darker, lower range and a percussion heavy sound. 

 

                These CDs got my toe tapping, and I’m sure they could do very well on the dance floor, if it could get Mr. Leadfoot to bop along. J

 

 

Stephin Merritt, Showtunes cd (Nonesuch, www.houseoftomorrow.com)

 

                Yes, showtunes.  Specifically, from three off-Broadway shows, two based on ancient Chinese operas and one based on the life of Hans Christian Anderson.

 

                No, Mr. Merritt does not croak out the songs in his own baritone frog tones.  They are performed by cast members, and, in fact, it is a bit odd to see it attributed to him at all, since he does not play an instrument on the disc (he did write the material, and I presume he had a hand in the production, though no producer is actually credited).

 

                His usual twisted humour shines through on the likes of “The Top and The Ball”, “Shall We Sing A Duet” and definitely in the morbid deadpan of “Sounds Expensive” (and his odd taste in instrumentation is exhibited both throughout the selections in general and in particular on “Ukulele Me”, which, as you might guess, is a massed-vocal-and-ukulele spotlight…).  On the other hand, “The Little Maiden of The Sea” and “Here At Madam Plum’s” are both a little grim, though the latter has a certain wry twist.

 

                Still, 26 brief numbers give you a sense of his skills for showtunes.  They are clever songs and arrangements, and you may find yourself singing “What A Fucking Lovely Day” against your will, but most of the pieces probably work best in the context of the programmes.

 

 

                More mid-tempo and moody than its predecessor, this record is most notable for lyrics such as “I entered nothing and nothing entered me ‘til you came with the key” and “Then he motions to me with his hand on my knee” (and, for that matter, “There are explosive kegs between my legs”).  Let us just say – if one were to lend Morrissey the pillow one dreams on, one suspects he would end up biting it. 

 

                Working with Tony Visconti, on paper, sounds as though it would be a good idea, given Morrissey’s adulation of Bowie (and one would have hoped that the excellent results Mick Ronson got out of him may have accrued with another camp follower); however, the material is mostly a bit sludgy and

slow, though “I Will See You In Far Off Places” has a bit of a Zeppelin feel to it (the band, not the dirigible). 

 

                The last minute save of “At Last I Am Born” (another in Morrissey’s line of hope-in-the-darkness songs) brings the record to a halt on a good note (children’s choirs are nice to put on records by deviants…), but, for the most part, it’s kind of forgettable and style over substance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

                Some of the music I listened to fifteen years ago, I never would now.  The Pansies are an exception.  Listening to this has helped me to rediscover them, and, though some of the more sexualized songs now strike me as a bit silly and immature (they were more of an outlet, as it were, back before I had HAD sex, mind you… J), I still adore “Anthem” and “Fem in A Black Leather Jacket”, and, darn it, the bridges of “The Cocksucker Club” still run through my head.  Oh, who am I kidding? Catchy pop-punk ditties, almost every one, with digressions into chimey folk-rock and even some pseudo-metal.

 

                As to the DVD – videos (who can resist a Snuffles Wild Record Collection clip?), performances, interviews.  In light of the decreased performance schedule and activity of the band (one hopes they aren’t going to completely cease), this is a valuable outlet (kind of like a fuck buddy, if you will).

 

 

SONGS THAT BRING ME ONE STEP NEARER/CLOSE TO THE EDGE

 

Islaya, Meritie cd (Fonal Records, www.fonal.com, www.fonal.com/islaya)

 

                Yes, kids, it’s yet ANOTHER one-woman recording from Finland, complete with tape hiss, detuned guitars, what sounds like whistles or party horns and some percussion.  The appalling lack of imagination in the marketing world today…

 

                More seriously, Islaya sounds like a cross of Yoko, PJ Harvey and Bjork, all being backed by Jandek.  Even if I could speak Finnish, her wailing or occasionally muttered/slurred vocal style would make it hard to discern the lyrics.  The thirteen selections here are mainly what sounds like guitars or other stringed instruments, along with her voice, though some of the noises are difficult to decipher what they could be.  After 39 minutes, it is over, and you can resume your ordinary life – or can you!?

 

I’m still not certain what I think of it.  My spies inform me that she was speaking to Jandek when he played in her neck of the woods late last year, so the comparison may not be far off – I have no idea if she’s a recluse who churns out record after record with almost no publicity.  It would be fun to imagine she were Jandek’s long-lost daughter – but I think not.  With Jandek, at least, you can generally make out what he is singing, and I suspect FINNS would have a hard time with THIS one…

 

 

 

 

 

John Jacob Niles, My Precarious Life In The Public Domain cd (Rev-Ola, www.revola.co.uk, www.john-jacob-niles.com)

 

                This man made a career out of traditional ballads, and a handful of originals.  However, if his repertoire was traditional, his style was NOT.

 

                His accompaniment on dulcimer or the occasional other stringed instrument was idiosyncratic and quirky in its rhythms.  And the VOICE!! According to the man himself, he early on learned that an audience paid attention to a high soprano voice – so, God help us, he developed one.  Mind you, it is more the voice of a ghost soprano (he also sang in a more conventional tenor voice most of the time, to be fair, though even THAT voice was a bit odd and quirky) or of a diva trapped in a burning house.

 

                This makes it sound very unappealing, I suppose, but it is not.  Interestingly, though many of the ballads here have male and female parts in them, he does not necessarily sing the female parts in the high voice.  “Old Cuckold” is darkly humorous, and “The Maid Cried From The Gallows” is oddly contemporary in some ways, particularly in the morbid way people gathered to watch someone die who may not even be guilty. 

 

                If ever a title could nearly speak for a record itself, the above would.  Make it less precarious, if only posthumously, by taking a chance on this…

 

 

                This man has put out quite a few records, usually with a concept of some sort behind them, almost single-handedly continuing the tradition of prog/space-rock (okay, so there’s Hawkwind, in one form or another).

 

                The concept this time appears to have been that all the songs were written on March 13, 2004, and the notes say it was ‘conceived’ on that day as well. 

 

                Musically, it’s full of confident but calm vocals, mellotron samples, clean guitars, piano flourishes, and so on.  Very beautiful and very unlike almost anything else around.  The gentleman was kind enough to send me three of his CDs, and I must set aside time to listen to the other two in depth soon, because this one was like a gateway to another world (and the beautifully spacey art within was also captivating, if a tad disturbing/dark here and there…).

 

Vibracathedral Orchestra, Tuning To The Rooster cd (Important Records, www.importantrecords.com, www.vibracathedral.co.uk)

 

                This group of veteran multi-instrumentalists must, one presumes, tune to something, though the chaotic nature of these four long improvisations (as much as one CAN improvise when one finally has access to 24 tracks, having usually recorded to two-track) makes it a bit difficult to tell here and there. 

 

                They are clearly skilled at what they do, and the pieces do gradually unfold from beginning drones or roars, but it seems like this might be more interesting to see live (if only because I could then figure out what some of the sounds in the rather muddy sonic field are being produced BY).  In the studio, it seems a little indulgent.

 

 

                Thanks to the late John Fahey, we are able to hear these ultra-obscure 78s restored to as good sound quality as can be expected, documenting a very early period in the recording industry in which, much like during the punk boom of the 70s, almost anyone could and did make a record.  Elvie Thomas and Geeshie Wiley, based on the evidence here, should be in the blueswoman canon, while Tommy Settlers, with his vocals/kazoo/percussion oddity, and the Nugrape Twins, with a jingle that makes the presumed drink sound like the nectar of the gods and the key to freedom, deserve to be remembered (and are unlikely to be forgotten once heard).  As to Mattie May Thomas, with her a cappella prison songs – much as I hate to say it, perhaps some people should be locked up – ooooh, fierce!

 

                All told, 50 rough gems from 1897 to 1939 (oddly, the 1897 sounds pretty good, but, then, how many people HAD a record player then to scratch up the disc?), from people time and documentation have largely passed by.

 

 

 

                This sprawling, wildly eclectic collection is to benefit Doctors Without Borders in its battle against AIDS in Africa, and the artists all donated material, the enormous majority of which is unreleased or alternate tracks – and, no, not dross or filler.

 

                Marc Almond, Antony, Devendra Banhart, Jarobe, Nurse With Wound, Teenage Fanclub, Pearls Before Swine – one could go on and on, listing  86 artists in all.  Let us just say that a collection ranging from NQ Arbuckle’s rootsy rock to Hafler Trio’s quiet drone is very eclectic and bound to have something for you.

 

                And, even better, because it is donated material with waived royalties, it’s not really an outrageously expensive proposition.  Around $40, at least from most indie stores (one might want to avoid a certain well known online site named after legendary women in this case…).