WOEBOT

Eastenders.

Monday night. Behind Ian Beal at the market sweet store, as he struggles with his bratty kids ("No you can't talk to Laura"). A vivid red poster, large bold white type:

STICKY
SLIMZEE
SEMTEX

Sunny Ade.

Sunny Ade gets my vote over Fela Kuti anyday. There's too much redundancy in Fela's music, saxaphones and organs meandering all over the place. Shaggy ain't my thing. While the political ire and philosophical stance of something like "Kalakuta Republic" are rousing, in preference I'll take the sheer sonic thrill of Tony Allen's edge-of-climax drum pans on the more "superficial" dance craze record "Open and Close". That record retains the JB's hyper-tense instrumental dynamics and one-mind co-operation, without degenerating into marajuana miasma.

Sunny Ade's records are more quietly and keenly thrilling than Fela's (all stomp and bluster). The "rush" dynamic centres on the way the pedal steel guitar soars over the busy knitted bed of talking drums, one of the most exciting instrument sounds in music, up there with Thelonius Monk's piano-being-thrown-down-a-mineshaft vamps and Bob Dylan's ham-fisted yet wildly ennervated harmonica. Every time I hear it I get uncontrollable shivers wracking my body.

Sunny Ade probably made more records than Sun Ra. The catalogue numbers of the three I have on his Sunny Alade Records label stretch up to 25 between 1974 and 1981, obviously that doesn't include his manifold international releases and equally constant output since 1981 (22 years ago fer chrissakes!). There's a record out this year, still using the same template, which kicks arse! One thing about Fela, and this is in spite of apologisers for records like "Perambulator" and "Army Arrangement" (the domestic mix natch), is that he only made halfway decent records with the Egypt 80. Juju (and Fuji) bandleaders come into the spotlight from time to time, Ebeneezer Obey, Dele Abioudun, Shina Peters, Segun Adewale and Barrister- but none of their work touchs the magnificent peaks found on Ade's records. A cheap jab at Ade would be to say all his records sound the same. In fact very often the same Yoruban chants, melodies, riffs and songs (even) are recycled. I prefer to see this as an endless evolving quest for perfection, each re-version racking up the tension. The same criticism gets levelled at James Brown, and the closer one tunes in, the greater differences become apparent.

The first Sunny Ade record I bought was "Juju Music", the first in the trilogy he made for Island. It's truly marvellous. There's alot of spite directed at world music stars getting "chi-chi" in Paris, having their fangs pulled out, getting washed out with synthesisers etc. But the work Martin Meissonier did with Sunny Ade is pretty much exemplary. "Juju Music" is one of the most successful "Fourth World" records made. Synths are set to bleep and chatter. Talking drums become chromatic and abstract. The groove elevates off the desert road into a low orbit. Great too is the 12" Waka Mix of "Jah Funmi", even bleepier and more abstract, vocals sucked through the pinprick eyes of the dub. This is apparently available once again on a new CD which has just been reissued, er, you do the work.

"Synchro System" is disappointing. Island didn't get their new Marley (what a dopey idea!) and packed the tracks into twelve small suitcases. SO Talking Heads filched the high concept of "Juju Music" for "Remain in Light", but thats no excuse to turn in a West African Noo Wave "Fear of Music" (yikes, sounds great on paper!) There's a nice Nigerian-only release "Synchro Series", Meissonier at the helm, but which is the same tunes stretched out over half LP sides. And "Aura", well it's very flat, a duff. It's a shame in many ways because drum machines don't NECESSARILY spell the end for African music (there's alot of great African music which uses them and makes a merit of them, one off-the-cuff example being Cheb Khaled's "Hada Raykoum"), it's just that in this instance the musical dynamics are all wrong. I recently heard mention of Ade's Soundtrack to Robert Altman's movie "O.C. and Stiggs" (which he and his band feature in too) which is supposed to be as far out as the aforementioned records. If you think you'd like the Juju Dub sound, also track down the Dele Abiodun "Confrontation" LP on Earthworks.

Which brings me to this. I was trying to fathom how Sunny Ade must have felt being sucked into the spaceship that is the pan-global arm of the record business only to be beamed back down a few years later. Journalists don't tend to talk about industry machinations. What one reads in the press nowadays tends to be "advertorial" (picked up this word yesterday at a celeb hacks picnic, me serving drinks in a tight black suit), writing to give "luft" to a record. One blows a big multicoloured bubble, slips the CD in it at one's last gasp with the tip of one's tongue, and it sails over the city. As a wee kid I was shocked when I found out the opinions expressed by some music writers were not actually their own, but a response to the marketing department or "owed" to the record company. Aw Boo Hoo!* Sometimes though, looking at the real-politik of artist/company dynamics can be very psychedelic. Psychedelic like a walk down the high street. Lets have a look at the cover of these three domestic releases for clues...

Firstly check out the absolutely stunning cover of this record. Voices in my head give me a hard time about being a "record fanboy", but take this exquisite object. Sitting in a bargain bin for £7 sterling. It's come all the way here from Lagos, maybe on an old cargo liner. It's from 1974. I was three then! It's a rich physical object, not pokey undersize and sterile like a CD. Look at Sunny Ade the young buck. This is his first record on his OWN label. He does look slightly cocky, but also tender. An insouciant smile. He wasn't as massive in Nigeria as he would soon become. He looks like he's sitting on a bench on Hampstead Heath. Wearing that cool jigsaw shirt on and natty brown leather boots, western style. He's looking beyond the boundaries of Nigeria already. However it's an image for his home market. "Look at me!", it says fixing the camera/viewer, "I'm International, I'll be a big star, just you see!"

This one is from 1980. We have Ade in ethnic garb, he's "King" Sunny Ade now. Radiating happiness and success. A generous buoyant mini-afro. A huge star at home. Now a figure operating on a cosmic level, as great men and women often believe they are. Eyes now off 45 degrees left, dwelling in the delight of his own status. "Nothing can stop me!", he feels.

Then this, which is widely acknowledged (along with "Bobby") to be his classic recording. It's from 1981. Here at the absolute pinnacle of his success. "Aura" the final chapter of his dalliance with Island comes a couple of years later in 1983. If you ask me though, he's SEEN the future. He knows it's not going to work out on the international level. The smile has gone. His scar fully visible. His hair cut back. His clothes dusty superfly. And his eyes, how different, now turned stage-left back to Nigeria. Wiser. Hurt. Figuring how best to go from here. Crashing down to earth. Sunny Ade has never been a politicised musician (like Fela) but one senses "The Message" hinted at in the title; "There is more to life than this..."

If you get the chance to see Sunny Ade live jump at the opportunity. I saw him in the Queen Elizabeth hall in 1989. The place packed with respectable-looking ex-pats, dressed up to the nines, cooly seated to witness their ambassador. I danced fervently and frenetically through the three hour concert looking for all the world like a spastic insect (hey didn't we all!), attracting many embarassed and disapproving looks, though no-one minded really. Awesome music!

Marcello on Resonance FM.

Marcello is on Resonance 104.4FM at 7pm tonight so if you're in London tune in. He's playing a mixed bag of No Wave and Mutant Disco. While he's only been allotted an hour and a half don't be suprised if he stretches it out over a few days.

In another "blogger-to-planet-earth-re-entry" scenario Freaky Trigger have a club night. Which is really annoying because I had the same idea and they beat me to the punch.

It has also been rumoured that Big Dave Howie has started his own Glaswegian Golden Pop label called "Spangle". The first release is by a reformed line-up of The Proclaimers (only one of the twins, the other now in Telephone marketing). Production courtesy of Stephen Pastel (in glitch mode) with Eddi Reader on backing vocals. I've heard a snippet of the promo, and its quite spectacular.

Nice try Dave, but where are the arty black and white photos to back up YOUR argument?

Dave Pallaitis dropped me a line:

"gimme gimme on 5th st between first and second i swear is better than either a1 or sound library: fair prices, random find factor and an almost always empty turntable for pre-listening. only open fridays and saturdays."

Eh! Where? You bastard Dave! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I NEEDED YOU?

Grime Wave.

Been luxuriating in two C90s sent to me "in da post" by old Iron Chest Heronbone. His fave bits from his favourite shows. It's practically THE DOCUMENT of UK Garage you know. I'll bet in ten years this selection will still be circulating, seriously. This is the living s***. I've done my bit on the FM dial, but I'm always complaining to Luka, (adopts whine) "Luka?....Luka? I tuned in on Wednesday and it wasn't Roll Deep, it was Nigella Lawson on her favourite Bhangra tracks." or "I waited up for the East Connection show and they just played Polish Trance music." Luka has a radio with a golden dial. See when it comes down to it, with such volumes of sounds (and here i'm talking trans-generically) the selekta is EVERYTHING. Big up the Inkredible hulk himself.

First thing I came across which I hadn't heard and which blew me away was Dee from Nasty Crew's Birds in the sky. Orrsome. And actually I found a copy today. Its *NEW* in the shops. You guessed it its a SLOW 'un, hammering the shakuchai-meets-nasal-church-organ preset. Dee saving resources and doing the echo himself "fly fly fly fly". Choirs of loose women fill the studio. All hearteningly R.Kelly on hunger strike. N.A.S.T.Y. Crew, its an acronym you know, Natural Artistic Sounds Touching You.

Secondly, and I'm not going to delve into "The Stratford Tapes" in more detail until I've thoroughly digested them, but Luka has trapped that rare butterfly of a track which blew me away last November. With its "I Love" vocal hook and Ghosts-era Sylvian synth. And if it isn't a bloody Dizzy Rascal tune...I dunno, after all that to-ing and fro-ing. No not "I love you", but off the album I expect. Reynolds is still raving about the LP and we'll see if I can't get a listen off him this weekend.

The riddim which is bussin it right now is Jon E Cash's "Spain" on Black Ops. Its got this flamenco guitar which has been accelerated till it becomes a gothic flutter. Sped up to that point where a rhythm becomes a melody (all you Stockhausen fans).

Not forgetting to mention Simon Sez's "Golly Gosh", which may be a month or so old and tends to be caned for it's instrumental (an anaemic take on DMS's Ardkore classic "Dark Age") rather than the rap. Not peak Social Circles material, but another shovel of earth into the contenders' mass grave.

Finally the MC tune which does it for me now, not spectacular but righteously efficient and sporting an ace production (hey why not!), is MC Dilemma's "What's my name?", your standard Mantronix bleep formation but chunkier with rounder edges and more space. Great unfrilly rap. Lavely!

Photos of the Best Two Second-hand stores in New York.

David Sylvian's Haircuts.

The swinging professor swiped at my knuckles with his clear plastic shatterproof ruler: "You're essay is late. TOO LATE!" Before tossing it cruelly in the bin. Finney and Reynolds were smarming away at the front. Finney's desk is SO tidy, he has a dedicated metal tin for his pencil shavings. I was ordered out of class, shutting the mottled glass door behind me. Luka was in the hallway. I can't stand that kid. We're both losers, but hanging out with him just because everyone else hates us, mmm, doesn't seem right. By the way he ignores me I know he's thinking the same thing. What's he doing out here? Only bought in a whole load of larvae in a tobacco tin! The prof shouted, "I told you not to bring bugs to school", Luka cried, he said but they're a beautiful emerald green sir. They'd hate my essay on David Sylvian anyway. No Deleuze and Guitarry. I'd be sent in front of the head Dr. Penman. The Punman, as he's called round the playground. He'd make me stand there, not talk, get his fit secretary to set me some Post-Structural shit to read. Damn those books are hard. It's a shame, cos it was a good piece, well grounded in a thorough understanding of New-Wave History and the relevant philosophical currents. I liked it...

1.Quiet Life.

Early shag. Image of late Bolan or Jagger. Moneyed rock. Tremendous body and bounce. Good platinum bleach, no roots visible.

2.Gentlemen prefer Polaroids.

That heavy fringe, ooh la la! Once again lovely body. Must be using a nice conditioner, perhaps Paul Mitchell. Strong right to left combing. A stylistic negotiation of Haircut 100, punk tonsure and glam. Possible mop-top revival with a twist. Good thorough bleach.

3.Later Japan.

A "confessional" hair-cut. Less Glam than Jeff Lynne. A real low-point. Possibly too much Flux and Mutability. You need a new look David!

4.Ghosts.

Light from above for a superb contrast. Roots showing. More unkempt, possibly been thinned out a bit for that "just-got-out-of-bed" look. Ooh don't smoke David, it does terrible things to your hair...

5.Brilliant Trees.

...like this. Very bad split ends. The difference between the "just-got-out-of-bed" look and looking like you just got out of bed. Possibly keen to let the roots grow out a bit. A new look in the works? Been advised of the damage long-term peroxide application can cause?

6.Secrets of the Beehive.

The first signs of the natural brunette look. Hair tucked neatly behind the ears in a business-like manner. The artist.

7.Dead Bees on a Cake.

Out of the blue a Jimmy Page lord of darkness look. Grunge revivalism. Possibly not washed recently. Crude but effective.

8.Everything and Nothing.

Back to basics again, phew! More of a shear than a cut. You've got to let that thick hair free!

9.Blemish.

Cobain meets suburban hip-hop and........a hat? Grey hairs? Widow's peak peaking?

So there you have it. David Sylvian's entire career in a nutshell. There are the records, but ultimately I believe this to be a more illuminating exercise, above all those LP titles refer to the cuts not the agenda. Just call me Raymonde!

Crazy like Patrick Swayze, Shallow like Vincent Gallo.

Found this in my wife's copy of Vogue which I peruse from time to time for talent. Afforded me great pleasure. Gallo is totally hilarious. My favourite line comes in response to the question "Who's your favourite fashion designer?" Also must be the only time EVER that This Heat gain a mention in a lipstick glossy. This is "on thread" after the recent Naomi bashing and my New York trip. Part 10 of the doomed in-house series attempting to reintroduce glamma into stuffy boys music.

Son et Lumiere Records.

I bought these, I can't remember where, in character as a crazed Black Dog fan. Also because I loved the graphics on the cover. Recently I saw the "Here History Began" one selling for lots of money (blah blah blah, yawn yawn yawn). They both feature the same production crew, Music composed by Georges Delerue and "the harmonious play of light" by Mr. Gaston Papeloux, the technical adviser to the project. They're dated 1961.

This one is the souvenir for tourists attending the light show at The Karnak Temples. I've stayed in Thebes and it's a great place. Big hello to the crew from Thebes!

This one is for the Cairo show. In case you didn't know, a "Son et Lumiere" show is when, at night, these ancient sights are illuminated with garish multi-coloured lights and local unemployed actors perform various historical situations for a gang of goofy tourists. All the while featuring this camp soundtrack, voice of the Gods/Desert, full orchestra etc. Nice!

Fools Like Us.

Seems like I'm not isolated in thinking Nellee was involved with Naomi's LP. The good doctor at k-punk came back to me with this:

"After extensive research - it took me fucken ages to find out - I have discovered that babyowman was actually produced by Youth, Gavin Friday and Bomb the Bass."

It seems mean to turn on Naomi, she has the whole of conventional society booing her. I'll bet this record accrues curio status, like Leonard Nimmoy sings.

At last I get into real trouble.

Got an email from Nellee Hooper. WHAT! Thats right, Nellee Hooper! He calls me a fool. You can call me whatever the damn hell you like Mr.Hooper. You can call me monkey!

>i have never ever produced a record with naomi campbell, where did you get that shit..??

Nellee I was WRONG. I busk about alot. Forgive me.

>you claim to have a copy!! i'd love to see it!!

Nellee, in my defense I was kidding there. I don't own a copy. No-one owns a copy. Dammnit I'd love to see a copy too!

>i think you are talking about tim siminon "bomb the bass" who produced some tracks for her..

Oh does that mean I can slag him off!

>please retract it's painful

I'll always retract if i fuck up. I don't mind looking stupid. Though hey Mr.Hooper I think I credited your good sense in linking Puff Daddy up with Felix Da Housekatt. Maybe this is why I'm not doing hard labour in Siberia?

Oh Shit!

I’d been overflowing with inspiration in New York. I wrote huge amounts of drivel daily to my portable wotsit. On the flight back it heated up like one of those pocket-warmers and I lost yards of high-tension prose. You should have seen the stuff! (three-part falsetto chorus) Tragedy! I’d been honing those sentences like Narcissus plucking his eyebrows. I’m damned if I’m gonna do it all again, and who knows maybe you’ve been spared. Here’s a (possibly more refreshing) thumbnail of what you missed:

1) A Guide to New York’s Record Stores.

I visited a few, ahem. A1, Other Music, Sound Library, Dance Tracks, Fat Beats, Bleeker Bob’s, The World Music Institute, Academy and a Reggae shop (pissed-so missed the name). This was a pretty crap piece. I tended to veer into poorly backed-up controversial statements about Race. Hardly a comprehensive breakdown either. Best anecdote: Shinge the AfAm Heavy Metal fan asks me how long it takes to drive from London to birMINGham, then Liverpool. Drops the shop’s needle. Queues up in front of me with a Queensryche record. Runner up anecdote: Chatting with Kimmo "Finland’s answer to Tim Westwood" about his journey the previous day into the Bronx; "Man we were deep in the game"

2) A Long Essay about Reynolds' and my trip to a Greenpoint Record Emporium.

This was slightly more amusing. The tale of Tobias, Simon and I battling with 80,000 dusty records. Plenty of scope here for blowing my own horn with the other dudes coming off well, but naturally not as well as me. Much discussion over tactical approaches as to how best parse the depressing number of records. What a pleasure to hang out with Simon my hero! Best anecdote: The black couple with the Aha ringtones. Runner Up Anecdote: Reynolds on the way back to Manhatten musing that there ought to be a moratorium for vinyl eventually, it should be burnt. Smartypants tells him they don’t just version in Jamaica, they melt down and recycle their vinyl. You can see why he gets so sick of me.

3) A lengthy critique of Christagau’s attempt to come over like a World music buff.

Whipped him hard. Loaded with the usual tiresome visual gags. Started off with a thumbnail sketch of the surviving critics of the "Golden Age of American Criticism", bemoaning the standard response of music critics to encroaching age, ditch it. Degenerated into nit-picking as to whether or not Christagau knew the slightest thing about High Life and Calypso. Ended up talking about myself (of course) and how I was resisting an uncritical attempt to have a handle on EVERYTHING, preferring rather to at least have some semblance of an aesthetic. Best Anecdote: Christagau gets a small thumbs up for being aware of Sunny Ade’s Sunny Alade Nigeria-only releases like Chuck E, Bobby and The Message. Runner up anecdote: A lengthy bit of freeform waffle in which the reader confronts Christagau for coming on like a jobbing truck-driver-of-a-critic in his Village Voice office. Bob says "So the fuck what!" leaves, gets a hamburger and fries, comes back, turns on the fan, "What the fuck you still doin here Monkey Boy." Proceeding to throw a regulation 75 percent of promotional material in the bin.

4) A qualified defense of The Cinematic Orchestra’s Man with a Movie Camera.

One side of the four is good. Hey it’s fake! References to other recorded material by David Axelrod, Fifty Foot Hose, La Chanteuse Sauvage, John Fahey. BORRINGG! Best Anecdote: I charmingly and wittily suggested they repackage it with a DeChiciro-esque desert view replete with prismatised goat skull, deeply ingrain a little dust, water-damage the sleeve and wrap it in yellowing shrink-rap. Best Runner up anecdote: Soul Jazz get props for swerving out of a nose-dive and bravely venturing to expand their horizons to encompass Reggae and Electronica (!)

5) An attempt to contextualise The Animal Collective’s work within the Green Guerilla movement reclaiming lots around the Lower East Side.

Quite OK I thought. A bit more integrity to this piece than in my usual heartless waffle. I answer the question why the ILM-centred music obsessives crew seem to conjoin with the Urban Fauna Crew (Luka, Gareth, etc), we’re all a bunch of sensitive kids. Positing a potential Avant-Garde movement occurring at this nexus of Poetry/Music/Gardening. Best Anecdote: I greet the Animal Collective (again) Best Runner up anecdote: The story about the guy who bites this idea off me and I set my lawyer on him.

6) I hang out with interesting people and you all get jealous.

Namedropping. I meet a dazzling array of fascinating folks and wrote small essays about my meetings with them in the form of minutes (sad), vainly attempting to stifle my little-boy delight at being in their presence. Reynolds: ‘nuff said, The Don! Paul Kennedy: A full A4 of spiel covering our 3,000 mile per hour discussion of the Ardkore continuum, Paul’s HEAVY post-punk past and extraordinary lifepath. Dave Mandl: Genius and polymath got a thorough dissection. Dan Setzner (name spelt wrongly): Charged with releasing Branca’s Ascension and Theoretical Girls on Todd’s Carpark subsidiary. With whom I rabbited for hours about the NY/UK meltdown, a shared love for The Black Dog and unexpected connections (namely Keith from Optimo in Glasgow, who I skirted around in the days of Pure). Best Anecdote: I grin too-broadly at Arto Lindsay as he stands nearby checking out the Animal Collective’s playback at Tonic. Whooping at diachronic history. Best Runner-up anecdote: Keiron Simon’s lovely little boy approves of the Spiderman stickers I give him.

The jewel in the crown of my visit was the afternoon I spent with Stuart Argabright, but nothing on this here as I intend to sell the story and photos to the highest bidder. NYC you smiled on me! NYC I loves ya!

Quit Blogging this Instant!

I'm holidaying in the world's capital city and yet i still find time to harvest the blogs! Actually writing indigestablely huge amounts daily to my handheld. I'll bosh some of it up. Pleased to see there's aktivity at http://k-punk.blogspot.com. Mark doing a wonderful job of disinterring the retro impulse. His notion that these movements problematically FREEZE the past sinks the nail. However isn't it these motivational "Golden Ages" which always provide the idealistic impulse throughout history whether its Greece or Rome, Grease or Romo? I'm not certain whether the worryingly over-analysed "Retro" instinct is anything new. Certainly I don't remember it as ever being any different. Though perhaps with the record industry in recession we're pillaging the larder a little more.

Some fluff from my belly-button.

I'm a frustrated musician. Aged 9 I spent 7 years trying to play the violin.

I had many violin teachers, they frequently washed their hands of me. One was called Mr Burns. He played lead in the Bristol Orchestra. I spent our lessons making him talk about himself and getting him to perform little tricks for me so as to avoid having to play "Row your boat" AGAIN out of tune.

It's not that I didn't practise. I would trudge to the music schools three times a week. I'd spend about 3 or 4 minutes struggling with "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and then forty more "improvising" FMP style. Hours would pass with me stuck in one of those cubicle-styled rooms busking in G. I wonder if the free crew would find value in my untamed exploits, whether I too might have carved a career like Derek Bailey. I'm kidding.

I was also, and this was after 5 or 6 years, completely confused by the printed score. I would mimic and guess. The notes looked faintly like chinese icons to me. On this principle I once wrote a song called "The Dancing Penguin" which I gave to my godfather. My parents, suddenly and unaccountably displaying an interest in me, their prodigy, asked him to perform it on the piano. Jesus Christ it was sheer goggledey-gook! Why put him on the spot? My godfather looked at it, took his specs off, ummed and aahed offered everyone a cup of tea, lead us into the garden....

I was such a persistent boil on the bum of the music school that they asked me to be in the Third Violins. I was quite nervous. Under no real impression of actually being able to play. I went to all the practises. Even at the concert we performed I was doing nothing but sawing backwards and forwards. Guessing the orchestra's general mood and tone. Crucially, and this was the key, making my bow go up and down in time with everyone else's. Drowned out in the din. Keeping it quiet. Turning my pages occasionally. Looking comitted.

After 7 years (and I'm not exagerating) I scraped my Grade One by three points and decided to call it a day. My violin, wrapped in half a red satin sahree which a Maharajah had rent in two and dramatically given to my Grandmother, sits in a drawer at home patiently. One day I've sworn to myself I'll persist. As soon as I've sound-proofed the basement.

Covers and Inside Gossip.

1. Eden says The Human League did a cover of Rock'n'Roll Part Two.

2. Jose Marmeleira says Run DMC also did a cover of ZZ Top's Just got Paid.

3. Argabright said of John Foxx: "Well, I have to agree with your friend who holds John & early Ultravox in high regard." Apparently worked with their guitarist!

4. My mate Ken from the office I squat in says he's mates with Foxx.

5. Eden says Pita Rehberg of Mego who he went to school with is "a total nutter" (a high compliment in these parts) and turned him onto Psychic TV and Foetus.

So there!

Ike Yard Missive.

Damn I LOVE doing this "blog". Though have you noticed how the word is queerly beginning to induce the same wince as "bling"? Neologists get busy.

Yesterday I got an email from Stuart Argabright of the legendary Ike Yard. If you downloaded those mp3s from that link I posted you'll know that this is some hardcore sh**. Ike Yard had an astonishingly modern sound. SA is being plain factual when he says they were 20 years ahead of their time.

Picture a texture-obsessed No Wave outfit (contemporaneous with all that guitar-fixated stuff) working on synths playing/plying superb ebbing rhythm. A prodigal NYC crew picking up on pre-echoes of DAF and Neubauten. A tramp in some forgotten east-european bunker cowering from retribution of a cold war crime, endlessly perfecting mantras on a oil drum.

"Not many (a few dozen) knew the group when it was going on (effectively '80 -'82) but between placing the "NCR" cut on Gomma's "AntiNY" and the MP3's on www.MP3it.com, we have gotten some little notice here and there.

Probably that will change now that we are planning /scheduling the 'Complete Ike Yard ' rerelease (the Crepescule EP '81 & the Factory America Album '82 plus quality musik from before and after those records, 30 or so tracks in all/no filler allowed). With every other group /band (notable or not) doing rereleases we figure 'hey, why not ?' Esp. as we worked at and made 'our own sound'.

Very few groups did electronic music as we did bk then, and we were possibly the only group that had the synth tech and ability to have all members synced to the drum machine and triggering out -as a 4 member group ..."

So fancy that! We're a right bunch of lucky bastards, eh!

Rian Bone.

Just for the record, after I "Photocopy-Published" this I sent Brian a copy. I got a letter back from Eno describing it as "intriguing"* (ha ha). However he wanted to make it quite clear that he "doesn't use marajuana, finding it stifles (his) creativity." Got it?

*You might think its rubbish too ;-)

CLICK THE IMAGE BELOW TO GET YOU STARTED!**

Quit carping Eshun!

Love giving you every possible opportunity to laugh in my face. Here's a bit of backroom chat from an email to Kodwo Eshun:

> I thought you hated America-What was that cartoon of yours-were someone
> sells a bunch of crappy records including America.I laughed but quailed a bit too

I blinked when I read this, couldn’t for the life of me remember what I'd put in there. I did that comic in 1996. Went back and had another look:

Human League, Simple Minds, Kajagoogoo, America.

Amazing really when you think ALL of this stuff has been classed trendy. Bar Kajagoogoo. For a while it was just Punishment of Luxury and Being Boiled, but then Love Action. (sweats) Then Simple Minds....does no-one remember that Cope-related tale of Jim Kerr tossing Faust records off Gorbals tower blocks. (CHRIST even that sounds cool!) I'm even tempted to pick up New Gold Dream, and come clean (at last) at my teenage lust for Waterfront.

Actually not sure if it doesn’t say more about the online taste machine. America was, I must have thought my safest card, maybe I should have put Chicago (though see the Ive Mendes "If you leave me now" cover) or Boston (I dunno, you tell me). I've NEVER heard an America track, so on what grounds I was holding forth......

The TWANBOC Rock Pack.

(in rocking chair on elevated porch, glass of bourbon in hand)

Hi y'all! You can't serve up rock music mixed down like dance. Ugh! (spits out chewing tobacco) Here it is, the TWANBOC Rock Pack! A ready-assembled Jukebox. Hip folk may have these. Just add cold beer, loose women and a turbo hot-rod. Failing that a cup of tea will do. The general idea is to convince dance-centric Europeans of the validity of ROCK! This (ahem) is the quintessential rock experience, proving there's nothing more illuminating in any instance than the real thing. My Dad once took me to Madame Butterfly to impress on me the value of opera. He would have done better to tying me to a chair for The Ring Cycle (the first record he bought as a 12 year old!) Omissions, well yes, but it's about inclusions no? Neal Hegarty and John Spencer have been emailing me, begging to be included, but I'm like CHILL!

1) Numbers: I'm Shy
"Slap that Nu No Wave sticker on it" as lovely Nathalie Nixed might say. This band actually lack No Wave's cold hard abstraction. You'd think otherwise from the PR. Brilliant staccato punk boogie. This is brand new last year. Buy the CD off Tigerbeat or Artrocker.

2) Scars: Horrorshow
This is off the classic FAST records compilation. Victorian gothic post-punk from Edinburgh. Gravediggers to a man. Once again post-punk's fusioneer-ing trans-cultural progadelica is absent. This ROCKS. Scars later did an okey-doke mascara-laden LP. Only noticed today that the lyrics are some 6th form Clockwork Orange drivel. Whatever!

3) Minutemen: Cut
Check my bro' Scott Somedisco's pithy Minutemen review. Cut is my fave track of theirs. Hear what the fuss is all about. Alot of the SST classics are still (somehow) available on CD or LP. Why the Minutemen seem important to me is that they manage to be supremely ARTISTIC without referring to the cliches of art music. No sitars, No studio trickery, just plain 'ol dynamic RAWK.

4) Shellac: In a Minute
Albini's got a firm handle on "The Aesthetics of Rock" As in what makes it function. Post-Big Black his idea was Rock as hard boogie. Hence Rapeman covers of ZZ Top's Just Got Paid. This makes perfect sense. Rock works through IMPACT. Twin that with pared down "turn on a dime" riddim and you're in hog heaven.

I guess we're talking *funk* but outside of Black Rock, self-conscious funk in rock tends to come over lame. As in Red Hot Chili Peppers. Actually I wonder (in turn) whether James Brown thought what he was doing was Rock. Funk is a teleological invention yunnuh. I always liked the argument that Reggae slowed down in response to the American Hard Rock of the seventies. Certainly records like Scratch's Blackboard Jungle Dub are very HEAVY. All this spools down into the issue of Hip-Hop feeding crunchy rock samples into the mix. I don't mean The Beastie Boys coercing Bonham. Diamond D uses plenty of hard-boogying rock breaks.

5) Gary Glitter: Rock'n'Roll Part 2
Just great. There's an interesting connection between this and Konga's leopard-skin Hoodoo Afro-Funk. Same producer. Toop spotted this. Oh and the KLF built blah blah blah.

6) The Waitresses: Slide
Off the superb Akron Ohio punk compilation on Stiff. Great scratch'n'sniff rubber tyre on the cover! Once again serious boogie!

7) Moby Grape: Omaha
Spence's motorcycle wall of death ride. Love the way it all gets skip-py at the end.

8) The Charlatans: Codeine
Not Tim Burgess's outfit....you'll be relieved to know. This lot were hanging in San Fran circa 1966, pre-The Grateful Dead. Seminal Haight-Ashbury stuff. The Charlatans used to dress as period American gents. Handlebar moustaches, wide brim hats and double-barrelled shot guns.

9) Crazy Horse: I'll get by
Crazy Horse's first alluded to in Albini's epochal review of Slint's Spiderland in Melody Maker. Forget Neil Young!

10) Led Zeppelin: When the Levee Breaks
Amplification innit. Is it just me or is this hugely psychedelic music? Harmonicas the size of fridge freezers. Maybe Lester Bangs didn't like it, and yes it's pompous but I think history's been kind to the Zep. I always remember Robert Plant talking about his favourite records in Q (!) and there, spread on the floor was Big Black's Songs about Fu***** and Neu! 75. I said Hi to Jimmy Page in the Windsor branch of Our Price in 1987. He signed my twin-necked strat (not).

(sun sinking behind the desert horizon, silhouetted joshua trees, cicadas) Well I hope y'all enjoyed the Rock Pack. This'll be the last *SPECIAL* for a while. Be sure to come back now! Peace.

Let's all make a Scottish Record!

Wickedly funny email from Marcello , I quote:

"...of course, a harder man than me would say that every time SW's made an album, the "celebrated" voice of the time then proceeds to make (one) which rips it off completely ("Lodger," "Perhaps," "Kid A") ;-)"

Immediately bringing to mind Julian Cope's description of St.Julian as his "Scottish" LP.

John Foxx through a faulty Microscope.

There’s been a bit of to-ing and fro-ing between k-punk and me about Ultravox and John Foxx. Mark rates them very highly. He’s got Foxx figured tightly into the now clearly identifiable k-punk aesthetic. Me, I giggled. Ultravox! I know Conny Plank produced Systems of Romance and a couple of post-Foxx records they did, clearly marking them as HIP (weary of this) but struggled to get Midge Ure’s ugly mug out of my mind. Band-aid! Vienna! I also sniggered because Mark seemed upset/adamant/furious that Foxx “never got his dues”. Actually I have a similar lack of respect for Gary Numan. I don’t care that both have probably got the whole Detroit crew bigging them up. I’m tough like that…..

I thought I’d do my research. It’s not enough to just mock from the sidelines (ever), also you never know what you’re missing. Over the last month I’ve managed to find the Systems of Romance LP and the Foxx Metamatic solo LP. Very cheap!

What greets you immediately is the overwhelming similarity this stuff bears to Station to Station/Low/Heroes-era Bowie. Foxx is very much a Bowie clone and the sound is way indebted to the production Eno did on those records. It is possible that poor Foxx had a handle on the same influences which Bowie did (Anthony Newley, Neu75, etc) and that as an Englishman just ended up sounding the same without the pipes to give it an operatic twist like Billy McKenzie did. I’m not sure I believe that. Bowie was such an awesomely inescapable influence in those days. Even Scott Walker did a Bowie record* With this LP I have a suspicion that someone at Island said: “C’mon lets really escape Bowie’s shadow, return-to-the-source if you like, and go record with Conny Plank in Germany.”

Not that there’s anything wrong with more-of-the-same. If innovation was the only important thing we’d be lumped with 4,000,000,000,000,000 avant-garde records which all sounded the same (except to closely trained ears). Systems of Romance, particularly Quiet Men, Dislocation and Slow Motion (Mark’s fave tracks incidentally) are great electric-blue leather-clad piston-pump steam funk micro-masterpieces. Sometimes I wish they stretch out a bit, certain passages are dying to be fed into an AKAI.

If I’m left with one opinion about the record, however, it’s that it’s a bit stodgy. I can quite see why John Foxx decided to sugar off and make this:

Which is quite stunning in parts, particularly “Plaza”. “Plaza” is great. You want to hear it’s off-kilter slabby analogue textures amplified very loudly. Big like an equestrian statue in Milan. Bowie is still here, but he’s been transcended. Nearly. Possibly Numan too, though no desire is evident to fill every nook and cranny of the sound-space like Gary's. Strangely the tonalities are tres Star Trek/Forbidden Planet. “He’s a liquid” also excellent. And “Underpass”.

One final thing about Foxx. I find there’s this aura about him, constructed by fans, very like that around Peter Gabriel. Interesting to see Peter Gabriel’s III in Reynolds’ list. Thing is Gabriel (like Foxx) is in denial of his historic loci. Gabriel’s III featured all kinds of very “then” figures, like Fripp engaged in a making very “then” music (arty proggy post-punk), but somehow the lead artist, perhaps by being so self-obsessed, cut the work off from the rest of culture. I find this quite off-putting. The other way of regarding this is that in some way these people are SO BRILLIANT they’re refashioning culture in their image, or that they’re leading the pack in some way. You don’t turn such comments on The Beatles for instance. Actually a similar cult exists around another closely concurrent “auteur” David Sylvian, mainly at the hands of Goldie and David Toop, and this (for some reason) I don’t find so creepy.

Actually it’s nice to focus on this era a bit. Critics have failed to get a handle on Electro-clash (I’d recommend Linda Lamb’s Hot Room and Solvent’s My Radio). Maybe that’s because it’s happened outside the existing hegemony of the critical canon (Ha! Ha! Are my night classes paying off?). Of course that’s what makes it both preposterous and fresh at once. It’s always nice in these situations to join-the-dots. After 1987 I spent 6 years joining dots. It can take you to nice places, both in the real and unreal worlds. You meet interesting people and spirits too.

Antipodean Post-Punk.

I was scrabbling round Agony Shorthand yesterday trying to find this link, where my mate philT has posted loads of Australian Post-Punk mp3s. I'd cleaned it out a few weeks before under Jay's suggestion. And then this morning philT himself emailed me the link. Aaah! Good to see the hive mind working properly...

Holler.

Not forgetting this!
Which I've put a blur on so you don't hurt your eyes. Spice Girls "Holler". Damn fine track. Courtesy of Rodney "Darkchild..I rip off Timbaland...where am I now" Jenkins. Who also brought us Brandy's masterpiece "What about us?".

Is he joking? Is he serious? The way I figure, If you're gonna destroy your rep, you might as well do it swiftly with style.

Pop Shite.

I've been holding back on this one, but now I've played it so hip to the hilt that I'm sick of my face in the mirror, it's time. THE HOUR HAS COME!

There are loads of devices which thorny old theorists use when tackling Pop music. The first being the well-documented form:"Taking-The-Pet-Shop-Boys-Seriously". Or Madonna. Most famous practioner being Simon Frith, who I once accosted* in Glasgow where he was ensconced (multiple resonances there) as I dunno, "leader" of the cultural studies department at The University of Strathclyde. You think I'm a neophyte when it comes to pestering celebrity music theorists? Think again sucker.... If I'm being cruel I'd say that this approach is often a result of the theorist failing to lock gears with more interesting musical currents. Kind of like they're old, disenchanted and idle. Punk didn't deliver. It's all meaningless tosh. Etcetera. Mainly these are excuses and it's just laziness. Pomo shmomo!

One of the other strands is the "Gilded" pop approach. Curiously this has strong roots in Glasgow too, at the hands of Pat "Hue+Cry" Kane, the rocking rector, with musical manifestions in Deacon Blue, Eddi Reader, Simple Minds, The Procalimers, The Blue Nile (ha ha) and Wet Wet Wet. Maybe this is something to do with the outreach of Calvinism. Preacher craning down from pulpit: "Oh no kids! Not that terrible music. You must listen to this Perfect wholesome Pop instead." YUK!

Then there's the Skykicking innovation. Write about Pop which gives you that RUSH. The same dopey meaningless hit you get from Ardcore and Platinum Rap. Don't distinguish. Trust your feelings! Get that pop fix! Ugh! (smacks arm...swoons) Me, I like Tim's approach. I think there's too strong a trace of irony in Morley's angle. Any authenticity is stymied. So what if you piss off the Led Zeppelin fans! When it comes to music I have no truck with irony or camp's kitsch fetish (hate it). However, we ARE talking pop, and the comfort of knowing my own approach (even it's a non-approach) is the little bit of Meta I need.

So here goes (dashing reputation on the rocks) Presenting some of the pop singles of the past two years which I LOVED. Didn't buy 'em, but raced to the telly and turned up the volume. They actually might appear to be quite a "classy" selection. You know Rock Bands, Exotic Curios, "Kylie" but actually this is a list of the direst loathsome junk. I'm not trying to sheen this lot as Perfect Pop.

Coldplay- Clocks.
Crikey. Who'd have thought! Love that rave comedown piano riff!

Lisa TLC- Blockparty.
This is a wee bit hip. Completely Tom Tom Club Wordyrappinghood, right down to the "Iche Ne San Schee" fake Japanese nasal chorus. I adored this track. Forget Aaliyah, this chick was going places...

Shakira- Forever.
Reminded me of middle-of-the-road 80s Pop with a ethno/prog twist. Tracks like Toto's "Africa" and Mike Oldfield's "Moonlight Shadow". I love those tunes, mainly for how they remind me of a happy window in my childhood (!) The video for this was also...ahem...nice. Young lady rolling in mud etc.

Vanessa Carlton- A 1,000 Miles.
Laughed when I read Thurston Moore confessing this had floated his boat. Me too. Actually this is swerving perilously close to a kind of tastefull-ness (DONT FORGET! ALL THIS STUFF IS SHITE!). Vanessa, well she's like a teenage Laura Nyro, aint she.

Kylie Minogue- We Can Be As One.
And Matos liked this too (mentioned not by way of self-defense I promise). Kylie is so terrible. Please NO Kylie-ology! But, yunno, great rushy track. Love the way the hoover riff hangs behind the curling/looping "be as o-o-o-o-ne" chorus.

Foo Fighters- Times like These.
Hated Nirvana. Quite liked the first LP (natch). Foo Fighters, even worse. But damn this track is hot. Kind of Huskers meets anonymous 70s AM rock staple.

Girls Aloud- Good Advice.
Seriously. I like the way they get these girls to ALL half-sing the chorus. Combination of force and apathy. Very slutty.

Who was it who slagged me off for the Jennifer Lopez shite I wrote? Well suck on this lot!

*in a deli.

NYC PP Ommission.

Paul SciFiSoul bought it to my attention that I left out Ike Yard from my East-Coast top 10 obsurities. If I had an Ike Yard record, it would have featured (prominently). Believe me, the slightest opportunity to show off and I'm there. However I've a handful of Ike Yard mp3s which I got (a long time before you....) from here which is a very cool little site, also featuring a canny wee history of the band.

Retro in the Red.

Recently I reported that Strut had gone bust. Now it seems so have Nuphonic. Two great Retro-Revival records down the tubes (shakes head). Be sure to pick up the Nigeria 70 CD (a truly WONDERFUL project, and better featured than the LP, more tracks!) and those Loft box sets before they disappear through the cracks.

My good friend Steve Caruana told me the other day that in his opinion the best Reggae investment these days were all the re-issues of stuff that’s rarer than hens teeth. It’s no time be snobby!

Dystopian Synthesiser Barometer.

Moving Cabs-vs-Clash stuff at Blissblog and K-Punk. Despite having a fondness for Erik Davis's writing, the SO WHAT thought is sometimes near the surface.You can nicely tie-in people's feelings towards Technology (and cyber-culture) with the ways in which they approach electronic music.

Techno-optimism always seems to go in waves. It's at it's peak in US culture circa McLuhan (Tonto's Expanding Head Band and Raymond Scott- playing Techno to babies) then takes heavy hits throughout the 70s. In the US Tech became the wrongdoer behind everything from Watergate/Three Mile Island/Vietnam. Maybe UK punk's gee-tar rudimentariness had as much to do with a connected "wholesome" anti-synth attidude as anything else (esp.The Clash) When synths regained currency once more it was as a tool with which to induce terror, through a manipulation of the dominant cultural feeling. Detournement innit. Used effectively at the hands of Japanese and German youth to emotionally terrorise the West.

I've always thought that the synths in Electro and Detroit Techno were aimed at striking fear in to the heart of mainstream America. But slowly, and especially amid the growing (post Jaron Lanier) bubble of techno-optimism, the synth sound once again stood for everything shiny and bright. Ambient etc. Sure sampling has made a nonsense of this. Computer music no longer has to sound as such. Though I'm sure the Avant-folk crew are riffing on ideas like these.

Boris Vian. Who he?

I thought what with Penman perpetually spouting Post-Structuralist thought I’d better swot up a little or get left behind. Stick to the catalogue numbers I hear you say!

My darling beautiful wife, who is a Fellow at Magdalen, Oxford (read “jolly clever”) leant me a book: Twentieth Century French Philosophy by Prof. Eric Matthews. An elegantly written guide to the historical currents of French Philosophy. I started on the chapter Levinas, Derrida and Lyotard but then thought I’d be better getting a bit of a run up, and went back one chapter to the Structuralists. I was quite pleased that I knew a little more than I first thought of this wrecking crew. Saussure (Langue, Parole etc), Levi-Strauss (The Raw and the Uncooked), Lacan (Mirror phase) and Foucault (The Order of Things). So that’s where I am right now. I heartily recommend the book, which is a sort of Idiots Guide on Steroids.

What really struck me however was the photo on the cover. Who were these beatniks? It turned out to be Sartre (and his wife) hanging out with Boris Vian (and his wife). The French are hip like that. Could you see Bertrand Russell chilling with Coltrane, or even Gunther Schuller for that matter? There’s that great line Miles had about Sartre: “Sartre said Juliette and I looked really cool together.”

Here’s the cover of my Boris Vian record, which I picked up in an open-air market in a village in the South of France on my honeymoon for 50F. Not exactly a rare record I’m sure:

I know only a little bit about Vian. He was one of those infinitely connected nodes. Amazing how much we know about Jamaican Culture in Britain but how little about that of our (extremely wonderful and interesting neighbours). If I was the editor of The Wire I’d look into things like this.

Vian was the dude who fixed up all the Jazz for Paris in the 40s and 50s. He brought Ellington over to France. I imagine he probably brought Miles over too. I bet he was sloping around on set of Ascenseur a l’Echaffaud (the film Miles did the soundtrack to). He’s the early reincarnation of that perennial French figure, the Afro-American culture importer. In the late 60s we have Daniel Caux bringing over the Free crew for the Shandar stuff and in the 90s we have Laurent Garnier getting the Detroit lot over. Interestingly one of Daniel Caux’s later enthusiasms was Detroit Techno. He made a TV programme about it. Vian was also a poet.

This record is classic/typical French music-hall stuff. Fais-Moi Mal Johnny is a superbly sexist anthem, featuring a breathless Chiquita screaming for Johnny to “be bad to her” (er like it says in the title). There are also some great baubled stop/start hinkly-dinkly instrumentals which sound like the car on the cover looks. Isn’t it funny to compare Aphex in his tank to Vian in this car?

French Music hall isn’t really to my taste, but I guess it’s fun. The other day at one of my favourite stores Harold Moore Records Barry “Dame Edna Everedge” Humphries had offloaded his ENORMOUS collection of French Music Hall records. Bet you didn’t know he was a massive expert on the subject! So there we go. From Hardcore Theory back to gossiping about transgressive Australians in 5 moves.

More FAG Sniping.

Been trying to think why I hate the faux avant-garde so much, and came up with these answers:

1) It aims to discredit music with life, harmony, glamour, street-smarts as somehow occupying a "safe" middle-ground.

2) At the same time it dishonestly tries to preserve a little frisson of youth/glamour/the aforementioned attributes.

This is why I got so much pleasure at hearing Karlheinz Stockhausen slag it off.

What’s wrong with this picture?

My delight at American electronica was that it hadn’t wandered down the blind-alley that European electronica had despite it's hardcore credentials (specifically the Blectums at Oakland). I was relying on the yanks to “keep it stoopid”. Well the rot is setting in!

It’s the blind-alley of the avant-garde. You must know my angle by now…It’s a sad thing that folks continue to equate brilliant with clever, with the academy (worthless Prix D’Arts), with old dudes with beards.

Blectum from Blechdom, Kid 606, Cex, Mathmos, and Phoenicia came at just the right moment for me when their euro counterparts were becoming dull as fuck. I think Autechre and Farmers Manual, among many other guilty parties, though they seem to represent the pinnacle, are boring and mono-dimensional. All Mego (including Fennesz), the new Oval (post-Diskont), not quite Mille Plateaux (but nearly). etc. etc. etc.

It seems like the landslide started with the whole Artificial Intelligence thing, since when there has been a fresh wave of twats every year who are just that little bit cleverer, and just a little bit fonder of recording their fridges. The instinct has even started weakening tremendous outfits like Mouse on Mars who seem desperate to keep up (not a decent record since Glam).

You meet these people and ask them what sort of music they make and they laugh in your face. “Music? Ha ha ha. Oh you are so stupid little man.” Anything worthwhile should to be easily explainable to a 7 year old. Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm anti-avant, I have A LOT of avant-garde records, I’m a tough guy too you see….