At first glance, you might think King Buffalo‘s Acheron is an EP. It only has four track on it, after all. Then you realize that the four tracks average about ten minutes each, making the album a full cosmic experience. Plus, the whole thing was recorded live in Howe Caverns in New York, giving the album a deeper feel of heaviness and heat.
The title track opens with blazing guitar work from Sean McVay that, as you can imagine, ignites the entire cavern system and probably awakened ancient mystics living in its deepest recesses. “Zephyr,” a song that seems to be about embracing a future that’s already here instead of dwelling on a past that was gone the moment it happened, soars about the cavern and your ears, like a bat gliding over a mountain stream.
“Shadows” is a gorgeous track elevated by Dan Reynolds synthesizer solo setting up McVay’s stalagmite-shaking guitar solo. It must’ve been deafening in that cavern when he played it. The closing track, “Cerberus,” is the crown jewel of the album, hitting hard in all the right spots and altering your mind-space in the others. Reynolds’ bass work is subtle yet stunning, and Scott Donaldson‘s drum work is so nimble that you can barely keep track of the number of fills he fits into one song.
It’s another fine piece in their excellent discography. King Buffalo doesn’t miss. Ever.
House and techno music were in a weird spot as the 1990s were ending and a new century was beginning. People had been raving away through the nights and early mornings of the 1990s in anticipation of living in a future that would, of course, never truly arrive. How would techno evolve in this new world / era?
Green Velvet had a pretty good idea how: Mix a bit of industrial music with trance and house, don’t skimp on the partying, and take the new century as it comes, baby. He released the perfectly titled Whatever just as the new millennium launched, summing up everyone’s attitude after the spectre of the Y2K apocalypse turned out to be a Scooby-Doo-style faker.
Opening track “Genedefekt” is almost like the opening theme of a video game with its 16-bit bleeps, but the thumping bass and machine drums elevate to something with a bit of menace – not unlike how a lot of people envisioned the next century as it arrived. That arrival, and not knowing what was coming next, is summed up in GV’s big hit, “La La Land.” The catchy bass and gets in your head and won’t escape as GV sings, “I’ve been the one to party until the end. Looking for the after-party to begin.” Like a lot of us, GV was there dancing until the end of the previous century and hoping the next one would be an even better after-party.
Also like a lot of us, GV was wondering if he should reinvent himself, and even how to do so, in the new millennium. “Stranj” has him singing, “For the first time I’m starting to realize I need to come down from this high, and be that person my family wants me to be – a model citizen of society.” GV calls out people who try to sabotage his dreams, racists, haters, and people living in fear on “When?”, and gives them rapid, energetic beats to shake them out of their brain fog.
“Sleepwalking” is a salute to “the weird ones” (“not the cool kids”) who find solace in the night and self-harm. GV hopes they’ll realize “Hatin’ themselves doesn’t make them happy.” “Stop Lyin'” is, as the kids call it, a banger – and a classic one at that. The near-goth synth-bass is outstanding, and the industrial beats would do Nitzer Ebb proud…as would the following near-instrumental track, “Minimum Rage,” with its alarm clock sounds, throbbing beats, and sampled crowd chants. It instantly brings to mind visions of people in black rubber shirts dancing under strobe lighting.
“GAT (The Great American Tragedy)” has GV screaming “Do what you like if you feel right!” by the end of it. It’s a panicked, wild track boiling with anger at being told what to do from every angle all the time. “Waitin’ 4 the Day2End” is a slice of GV’s life as he goes down to the corner diner and starts his own daily grind…along with everyone else around him from the guy next to him, the “old friend hooked on heroin,” and a party promoter who appears to be in a lot of trouble. The album ends with “Dank” – a snapping, double-dutch beat song about smoking weed that turns into a bumping floor-filler just when you think it’s finished.
That’s how Green Velvet was going into the new millennium – reflective, angry, high, and aching to get the rest of us off our assess to create the future we wanted in the here and now.
Imagine this: It’s barely post-pandemic. Your brain is still foggy. You’re not sure whom to hug or trust. You’re sick of Netflix. You’re sick of your house. You’re sick of being sick. You need something, anything, to shake you out of it.
Then along comes Welfare Jazz by Swedish post-punk rockers / goofballs Viagra Boys to slap you across the back of the head and remind you to get back to partying and laughing.
I mean, don’t we all know somebody like the lead character in the opening track, “Ain’t Nice”? Lead singer Sebastian Murphy warns a potential lover about his bad temper (“Trust me, honey, you don’t want me. I’ll start screamin’ if you look at me funny.”) and habits (“I’ll borrow your stuff and never put it back. I’m kinda hungry, could you give me a snack?”). There’s some much good stuff here that it’s difficult to tell who shines the most. Is it Henrik Höckert‘s bass? Elias Jungqvist‘s quirky synth bleeps? Oscar Carls‘ saxophone honks?
“Jesus Christ, I feel alive! Just last week I thought that I was gonna die!” Murphy sings on “I Feel Alive,” summing up pretty much everyone’s post-pandemic attitude. The band’s slow juke-joint blues stomp of the song (and Murphy’s vocal delivery), however, reveals our true feelings: exhaustion, confusion, and indecision.
“Girls & Boys” has Murphy (and the rest of the band) in a panic as he tries to figure out what’s going to bring him happiness in a post-pandemic world? Girls? “They always try to tie me down.” Boys? “They stay out all night, don’t go home.” Drugs? “They make me feel I’m all alone.” Love? “Somethin’ that I know nothin’ about.” Shrimp? “Bu-bu-bu-blah-blah-blah-blah.” Dogs? “The only real friends that I got.” So, it’s either dogs or “One day I’m gonna burn it down.”
The album ends with two love songs: “To the Country” and “In Spite of Ourselves.” The first reflects a common desire during the pandemic: Let’s get out of the city and away from everyone where “it would all work out” and “it would be easier.” Or so we think. The instrumentation on it reminds us that you can’t run away from yourself. The second song, featuring Amy Taylor of Amyl and The Sniffers on guest vocals, is about a dysfunctional couple who realize they’re perfect for each other.
Welfare Jazz and all of Viagra Boys’ discography, really, is more clever than you realize at first blush. They write songs that poke fun at toxic masculinity, rich elitists, annoying party girls, drug addicts, and sex freaks, but also make them relatable. You know at least one person described on any given album by them, and Welfare Jazz is full of such characters. It’s like listening to conversations in an all-night diner at 3am, where they’re serving a fried shrimp special, and the diner is in the same block as a bodega, a strip club, and a Radio Shack that is somehow still in business.
“Being in a band is like being in a marriage: sometimes it’s magical, sometimes it’s unbearably challenging.”
That’s from the notes on Deap Vally‘s Bandcamp page for their third, and what appears to be final album – Marriage. It was a prophetic statement in 2021 because Deap Vally are now on their farewell tour, having decided to call it quits and focus on other projects and their respective families. No worries, everyone, it’s an amicable split – judging from everything I’ve read, photos I’ve seen, and their extensive tour dates (including, it was recently announced, Levitation France in May 2024).
Marriage saw the band not only continuing their power-duo sound, but also branching out to work with other musicians and producers (as they’d done with The Flaming Lips) to stretch out the sounds they could create.
The album opens with their signature sound of roaring guitars, Julie Edwards‘ frenetic drumming, and snarling dual vocals on “Perfuction.” It has great lyrics that only Deap Vally seem to be able to write about balancing a sex life with work life, family life, and just…well, life, such as “Dirty dishes, clothes on the floor. I haven’t showered in days, and I sleep till four. Try to keep it together, but fuck it, whatever. I’m a mess, but I’m clever. So, fuck it, whatever.”
“Billions” punches rich elitists square in the mouth. “Magic Medicine” has some of Lindsey Troy‘s hottest solos on the record. “I Like Crime” brings in Jennie Vee (of Eagles of Death Metal) on bass and assisting vocals, giving the song extra thump and mysterious sensuality. “Nothing’s gonna stop me,” Troy sings on “Phoenix,” an upbeat song with a fiery edge about not letting that life-grind destroy you. “Give Me a Sign” has Deap Vally calling out for clarity. “Give me a sign to make up my mind,” they sing in perhaps the most obvious portent of their future dissolution of the band.
Troy lets her lover know he’d better be careful on “Better Run,” as she might overwhelm him. This seems like an even stronger warning when you consider the next track is titled “I’m the Master.” Edwards’ driving rhythms on it are top-notch. “High Horse” has K.T. Tunstall and Peaches joining forces with Troy and Edwards in a floor-stomper complete with Peaches putting down a rap verse. “Where Do We Go” could be another harbinger of their decision to close the Deap Vally book. “Tsunami” is a crunchy, fiery rocker (“I won’t stop till I get what’s mine!”) that I’m sure slays live. The final Deap Vally album closes with “Look Away” (with jennylee of Warpaint) and the band singing about visions of peace, relaxation, and love (“In your arms, it’s a holiday.”).
The signs were there, and now we have one last chance to see them live. I wish them all the best. They gave us three fine records, which is more than many other bands have done. Marriage is a good way to go out.
Good heavens, this collection of Patsy Cline‘s releases from 1955 – 1962 is not only gorgeous, but it’s also massive. In case you missed it on the cover image, it encompasses 75 tracks on three discs. The only things it doesn’t include are live cuts and material released after her far-too-early death.
You can drop the needle (to use an old radio DJ saying) on any track of any disc in this collection and find something great. Don Helms‘ lap steel guitar on “Honky Tonk Merry-Go-Round” seems to be having as much fun as Cline as she lays down the vocals. “Turn the Cards Slowly” is a personal favorite, with Cline and her band happily bridging county and rockabilly. “Stop, Look and Listen” is much the same, with Farris Coursey knocking out a great, swinging beat. “I’ve Loved and Lost Again” is a classic combination of Cline’s voice and Don Helms‘ always soulful pedal steel guitar.
That guitar is instantly recognizable on Cline’s “Walkin’ After Midnight.” It’s baffling now to consider that Cline originally hated the song (“That ain’t country,” she said about it.) and only recorded it at the insistence of producer Bill McCall. “I Don’t Wanta” is a fun jaunt as Cline sings about being so happy in love that she can’t picture life any other way. “Never No More” is a sassy, slow song that has Cline writing off her ex because she’s found someone “who makes me happy when I’m blue.”
Other classics include “Cry Not for Me” (with Cline’s voice belting out by the end and yet sounding effortless), the rockabilly swinger “Let the Teardrops Fall” (with great guitar work from Hank Garland), and heartbreakers like “I Fall to Pieces,” the immortal “Crazy,” “She’s Got You,” “Why Can’t He Be You,” and “Leavin’ on Your Mind”…and those are all on just the second disc of this collection.
Ferris Coursey‘s beats on “Hungry for Love,” which opens the third disc in the collection, are so tight that you could barely fit a dime between them. “Too Many Secrets” is a fun romp in which Cline learns more and more about a new lover that makes her question her decision to be with him. The addition of a horn section on it is a great touch. “Ain’t No Wheels on This Ship” is as much fun as “Fingerprints” is heartbreaking. Just for kicks, “Foolin’ Around” is a bit of a calypso number.
Disc three also includes “new versions” of “Walkin’ After Midnight” and “A Poor Man’s Roses (or a Rich Man’s Gold)” and a soulful cover of Hank Williams‘ “Your Cheatin’ Heart” and “I Can’t Help It (if I’m Still in Love with You). By the end, on “Lonely Street,” Cline is practically singing gospel.
The whole collection is solid, and a reminder of someone gone too soon but who left a stunning impact on music.
I picked up this delightful three-disc house music compilation at Reckless Records in London last year for a mere two pounds. As the cover reads, it’s forty-five tracks. You could just put any of these into a DJ set and walk away for a little while.
Each of the discs has plenty of outstanding tracks on it. Disc One, for example, has a lovely mix of Ron Hall and The Muthafunkaz‘ “The Way You Love Me” with Marc Evans on vocals. Paul Johnson‘s “Get Get Down” is a lot of fun. Kathy Brown‘s “Don’t Give Up” is pure house bliss, as is the ’98 mix of Maw‘s “To Be in Love.” Soulsearcher‘s “Can’t Get Enough” is a house classic and not to be missed.
Disco Two starts off with six straight bangers: Bob Sinclair‘s “I Feel for You,” Powerhouse‘s “What You Need,” A.T.F.C.‘s “Bad Habit,” Sandy Rivera‘s ” I Can’t Stop,” and Knee Deep‘s “Good for Da Hole” and “I”ll Be There For You.” Soul Rebels‘ “I’ll Be Good,” with the great Lisa Millet on vocals, is a for-sure floor-filler.
Disc Three gets thumping right away with Junior Jack‘s “Stupidisco.” “Believe” by Ministers De La Funk (with Jocelyn Brown on vocals) brings a bit of gospel flair to the mix, which is always welcome in house music. M‘s “So Fly” is killer, full of fun raps and retro video game bleeps backed with a solid dance beat. Timmy Vegas & Andy Daniell‘s “Disco Shit” is the shit. The early 90’s rave vibe of it is top-notch. Martin Solveig‘s “Rocking Music” gets your attention and doesn’t let go of it. Mood II Swing‘s “Can’t Get Away” is a good example of a house music staple – songs about how you sometimes can’t quit love that’s great in some ways but bad in others.
This compilation is well worth finding if you can.
To say that Faithless‘ 1996 album, Sunday 8pm, was a monumental release at the time is a bit of an understatement. Everyone was clamoring for albums like this, for bands like Massive Attack and Portishead and, really, anything from the UK that sounded like those bands, and then Faithless comes along and proves that they weren’t a cookie cutter band in the molds of those other great bands, but one that had their own unique style that mixed ambient music, shoegaze, trip hop, dub, and, yes, spiritual music.
Consider Maxi Jazz‘s line of “Even sitting in the garden one can still get stung.” on “The Garden.” It’s a Zen reminder at the start of an album that will explore love, loss, loneliness, yearning, reunions, and separations. On “Bring My Family Back,” Jazz reminisces about working hard to get ahead and realizing, once he’s “made it” that he hasn’t really arrived at anything worthwhile. Again, more Zen.
Please check your pulse if the drums on “Hour of Need” don’t get you moving. It’s a delightful song about letting your lover know you’ll be there for them when they’re at their lowest. “Postcards” is an instant classic, with Jazz’s lyrics taken from postcards he sent home during the band’s U.S. tour. “Take the Long Way Home” isn’t a cover of the Supertramp classic (although that would be wild to hear), but rather a synth-laden dance floor classic with snappy hi-hat beats and sexy, thudding bass.
On “Why Go?”, the band sing about a lover who unexpectedly shows up and how it can be awkward to talk them into staying. Unlike, “She’s My Baby,” a wild song that has Jazz talking about his wild sex life with his gal. The only thing more sultry than the lyrics is the wicked beat throughout it. “God Is a DJ” was, and still is, another classic, with Faithless (rightfully) comparing raves and dance clubs to places of worship, fellowship, and healing. To further that symbolism, the next track is “Hem of His Garment” – which speaks of love as something to be worshipped and cherished. “Killer’s Lullaby” is another thumper, and the special edition of the album has a sharp remix by Nightmares on Wax to boot – as well as a Paul Van Dyk remix of “Bring My Family Back.”
Sunday 8pm is a classic of the mid-1990s house / rave scene that still sounds fresh today.
Hit Me! The Best of Ian Dury is a great three-disc collection of Ian Dury classics, demo tracks, live cuts, new wave bangers, tenders ballads, and punk ragers from one of the best songwriters of his era.
Starting with two funky floor-fillers out of the gate, “Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll” and “Wake Up and Make Love with Me,” the compilation is already firing on all cylinders. I discovered Dury’s work through live versions of songs like this when I was in a record store in Bloomington, Indiana and the clerk was playing a live album from Dury and his killer band, The Blockheads. I thought, “Who is this?” and had been intrigued ever since. I snatched up this collection at a London record store as soon as I saw it.
It doesn’t disappoint. Ever. “Sweet Gene Vincent” pays tribute to one of Dury’s heroes. “Clevor Trever” and “Billericay Dickie” have Dury taking on alternate identities (Or are they?). “Blockheads” (with Dury singing / yelling toward the back of the room) ended up giving his future band their name. Dury is brutally honest with himself, and any female suitors, on the groovy “If I Was with a Woman.” “The Mumble Rumble and the Cocktail Rock” showcases Dury’s love of 1950s jukebox rockers. “Crippled with Nerves” (a song about his life with polio) showcases his love of country, gospel, and Elvis Presley, whereas “Blackmail Man” is a punk punch in the face…and that’s all on just the first disc.
Disc two starts with two more classics – “Reasons to Be Cheerful (Part 3)” and “Hit Me with Your Rhythm Stick.” “What a Waste” is sultry and slippery, reminding me of some of Frank Zappa‘s work, and the groove of “Inbetweenies” is outstanding. On “I Want to Be Straight,” Dury and the Blockheads are “sick and tired of taking drugs and staying up late.” The saxophone work on “Waiting for Your Taxi” is perfect for a late 1970s crime film. “Dance of the Screamers” turns into a psych-jazz freakout with disco beats behind it, showing us how the Blockheads were (are) one of the best bands out there. That hot disco groove continues on “Don’t Ask Me.”
“Mash It Up Harry” starts out disc three with a reggae twist (and, later, “Itinerant Child” continues it). “Dance Little Rude Boy” is another funky classic made even funkier by the electric piano work throughout it. The live version of “Spasticus Autisticus” is sharp as a razor and is a brief glimpse of how much the Blockheads were a murderer’s row of musicians. The guitar solo on “Bed O’Roses” is somewhere between a yacht rock anthem and a prog-rock ripper. The relentless rhythm of “Jack Sh*t George” is perfect for both a new wave club or even a late 1980s nighttime talk show theme. The disc, and the collection ends with a demo version of “England’s Glory,” which has a rough, raw edge to it that’s great, and it sounds like Dury and his band had a fun time in the studio that day.
This is a great entry point to Dury’s music, and it certainly made me want to find live albums by him.
Keep your mind open.
[I’ll have another reason to be cheerful if you subscribe,]
Recorded live November 27, 1977, The Damned‘s The Captain’s Birthday Party Live at the Roundhouse is, like other Damned records, mired with some weird history.
First, this album is often known and titled as Not the Captain’s Birthday Party. The band did play a show at the Roundhouse on April 23, 1977 – a day later after (then bassist, now guitarist) Captain Sensible‘s birthday. However, this show wasn’t recorded until seven months later at the same venue. Their label at the time, Stiff Records, thought this album was the April 1977 show and thus released it as The Captain’s Birthday Party. Later, in 1986, the album was re-released by Demon Records as Not the Captain’s Birthday Party. Are we all clear?
Another interesting bit of Damned history with this album is that it’s a recording of a rare lineup of the band with the Captain on bass and perpetual lead singer Dave Vanian, but with two guitarists – Brian James and the newly acquired Robert “Lu” (short for “lunatic”) Edmunds – and a new drummer – Jon Moss (who would later go onto worldwide fame drumming for Culture Club), as the legendary original drummer, Rat Scabies, had quit the band two weeks earlier.
The album is just eight tracks, but they’re eight tracks of raw power thrown at an enthusiastic crowd. Opening with “You Take My Money,” the guitar roars and feedback are immediately apparent, and Moss is holding his own with just two weeks of practice with three guys who were already punk legends just a couple years into their careers. “Creep (You Can’t Fool Me)” gets a great response from the crowd. “Fan Club” is rough, with Edmunds and Moss still figuring out some of the band’s mechanics, but that energy just brings more growl to it.
“This one’s for Rat Scabies,” Vanian announces before they start “Problem Child.” The whole band is energized for this one, and you can tell Moss wanted to slay it. “So Messed Up” is a full-blown sprint that must have sent the crowd into a panic. “New Rose,” their first hit (and, by most accounts, the first punk single) transforms from a grungy rocker into a wild mix of feedback, crashing drums, and bass rumbles that only settle for a moment before they rip into a blistering cover of The Stooges “Feel Alright.” They end with “Born to Kill,” barely leaving you any time to process what the hell just happened.
It’s a wild ride, not unlike one of those carnival rides that takes you up high, spins you around, and then drops you at a frightening rate.
Recorded live in Glasgow, Scotland in 1995, Julian Cope‘s Barrowlands is almost seventy minutes of Cope and his four-piece band (Richard “K-R” Frost – bass and vocals, Michael “Mooneye” Watts – lead guitar and vocals, Mark “Rooster”Cosby – drums, Timothy “Thighpaulsandra” Lewis – vocals, piano, Mellotron 400, and synths) performing what was a three-hour set that’s been whittled down to this album. It marked a heavy synth influence on Cope’s live shows, as he’d recently acquired a vintage 1966 Mellotron 400 and dove head-first into synth-psych.
As a result, the live show is a wild freak-out (as, I’m sure any Cope concert is) heavy on synths and keys, but not skimping on raucous guitar riffs, tight bass, or near-panicked drum beats.
The album opens with blasting versions of “East Easy Rider” and “Spacehopper” before they slow things down a bit on “Nineteen Ninety-Five” (which Cope dedicates to a rowdy man in the crowd as Cope offers to throw him some meat). It’s a song that encourages us to open our minds and explore, and the heavy piano chords behind the message have a hint of danger to them (and the journey).
“Sleeping Gas” is downright manic, with Mooneye’s guitar sounding like an industrial saw one moment and a thrash metal solo the next. “Don’t Take Roots” is wonderfully loopy, and tracks like “Leli B.” and “Passionate Friend” (a Teardrop Explodes track, no less) keep the crowd rowdy. “Torpedo” features Cope’s unique voice supported by Thighpaulsandra’s Mellotron chords. Cope’s vocals can go from crooning to punk rage and then dreamy stylings that almost become spoken word pieces. “Torpedo” is a good example of this last one. “Julian H. Cope” is a solo acoustic track that’s like a warm-up before the sonic blast of “Out of My Mind on Dope & Speed.”
“Double Vegetation” sounds even better live than I’d hoped. Cope’s band brings a strange, haunting energy to it. Afterwards, Cope tells the crowd there won’t be an encore. “It’s really hard to go offstage after three hours and then come back,” he says. , claiming there will be only two more tracks. There are actually four.
“Reward” is first, another Teardrop Explodes classic. “It’s coming to an end,” Cope says before he and his crew launch into “Hanging Out & Hung Up on the Line.” Cope’s vocals take on an angry snarl while Mooneye’s guitar buzzes like someone just threw a beehive on the stage. “World Shut Your Mouth” roars with heavy bass from Frost and Thighpaulsandra’s synths are at times bright and other times skronky. The album ends with Cope’s wild, trippy, frenetic classic “Reynard the Fox” – which must have caused a near riot when they played it at this show because it’s like ending a marathon with a kickboxing match. It’s always been one of Cope’s best songs, and getting a live version of it on this record is a treat.
The whole thing is a treat if you’re a fan of Cope’s work. I hope the Archdrude releases more live cuts. He’s a bit of a hermit nowadays, and has mostly given up the rock life, but maybe, just maybe, he’ll come out of hiding and surprise us.
