Justin F. Farrar

Re-Imaging Ambient Music For the 21st Century

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Jul 172010

This interview originally appeared on the Mountain Xpress’ arts & entertainment blog.

Over the last few years, the outer fringes of electronic music have birthed a new generation of musicians obsessed with vintage Krautrock, Kosmische Musik, proto-New Age atmospherics and old-school synth experimentation. We’re talking intrepid, young sound explorers hell bent on bringing the delicious ambient glory of Tangerine Dream, Cluster and Klaus Schulze into the 21st century.

Two of the movement’s most vital artists, Sam Goldberg and Emeralds, hail from the former home of that traitor LeBron James. There, with Cleveland’s sprawling industrial decay as their backdrop, they have crafted some of the most wonderfully hypnotic music of the past decade. Goldberg’s Current LP in particular feels like a real benchmark for this dazzling, new music.

Luckily, Asheville will get to sample Mr. Goldberg’s killer drone-work when his current tour (spotlighting his synth project Radio People) takes him to Harvest Records this Monday, July 19.

I recently talked with Goldberg. We covered a lot of ground, everything from his friendship with Emeralds, to his record label Pizza Night, to his all-time favorite ambient jams.

Check it out…

Farrar: I assume you grew-up cutting your teeth on punk, hardcore and indie rock.

Goldberg: Yes. Punk and indie rock were a staple of my youth, but not hardcore so much. I also grew up listening to The Grateful Dead, The Band and the Beatles, primarily through my folks. Once I got into punk I shunned that stuff, but eventually came back around to the “classics.” The Band and the Beatles have as much influence on my music as synth heavyweights like Klaus Schulze and Michael Stearns.

How did you transition into ambient and drone electronics?

My transition came from the playful psych-zones of indie rock and the Beatles-inspired stuff, which then led to stoner rock, drone and beyond. The last pop band I had sounded similar to Guided by Voices and Gris Gris. But because I was getting into noisier psychedelic music, as well as Krautrock, I wanted to create sounds that were more “out there.”

Did this realization happen over a period of time, or was it a kind of epiphany?

I started listening to Brian Eno and Tangerine Dream around the time I moved back to Cleveland after a short stint in Chicago, where I went to film school — an epic failure. I met Emeralds in the basement of the now-defunct Church [a local performance space]. They turned me on to even more jams. They also egged me on to get off the sidelines and record — I was just booking a lot of noise shows. I decided to use an organ and a delay pedal to make my first tape, which I recorded down in basement of [Emeralds’] Mark McGuire.

For someone familiar only with your recorded output, how does it compare to your live show?

On this tour I’m doing Radio People, which is my synth project. It very much comes from my love of the more proggy sounds of later Krautrock and synth music.

Performing live, however, became a bore for me about a year ago. I burned-out on my guitar and reverb set-up. I love that style, because of its simplicity. Current can be played from beginning to end using that set up. And I did that quite a bit. But I wanted to do “more” rather than the slow dreary stuff that Current embodies. It tends to put crowds that aren’t normally into my kind of music to sleep. I just finished a new album, on which I’m accompanied by sax, drums, clarinet, etc. I would like to bring an ensemble like that on the road. It’s the next logical step beyond Current. But for now I continue to play solo.

What’s your current set-up in terms of equipment and instrumentation?

My Korg Polysix and a Casio organ-and-drum machine combo. It’s connected to my style in Mist, my project with John Elliot of Emeralds. After playing synth in Mist I realized I wanted to continue using synthesizers in my solo performances. My Radio People style came from that.

I do think you share with Emeralds a love for the sublime. Both of you seem willing to move beyond the love of distortion and feedback common in underground noise.

My Sam Goldberg material and Radio People project are two very different things. I do feel that way about my own solo material. It’s based on a certain sound that I hope to expand over time — more about finding the music that is in my head and heart. Though it’s drone based, I’m starting to use more acoustic instruments, rather than blaring-reverb guitar. Radio People is more of a conceptual project. The goal is to create something that is a bit more cinematic. It’s about a picture in my head, rather than a feeling.

Would you say your music is experimental? Or do you approach music more like a composer writing a song?

Songwriting for sure.

You release both limited-edition cassettes and finely packaged vinyl. Do you prefer one to the other, or do both media have distinct advantages and charms?

Vinyl. I want to do more records, of course, but my cassettes serve a different purpose. I enjoy following artists in between their major releases myself, so I like to drop tapes to keep people up on my music. At this point, it’s the only way—other than relatively short run LPs—to do this.

Does the medium ever dictate the music? For example, it seems as if the recordings on Current (Weird Forest Records, 2009) are very much intended for vinyl.

Actually, Side A of Current appeared on tape and wasn’t intended for vinyl. But I realized they were pinnacle tracks from my early work and really embodied that zone for me.

Can you tell me about any upcoming projects and/or releases?

A Radio People self-titled LP is due out next week on Digitalis. Only 300 copies, but I think it will be available online. It’s made up of my favorite tracks from the first 3 tapes that I did with the project. After that, the new Sam Goldberg LP on the Arbor label coming early next year — I’m really excited for that as well.

Now on to the most important question of our interview! What kind of cool tour merch do you plan to unleash on Asheville?

Lots of new Pizza Night releases, a Radio People tour tape and hopefully my record!

Just one more: if you were to run into some little punker-dude who wanted to expose his/her noggin to classic Krautrock, Kosmische Musik and ambient jams, what three albums would you recommend?

La Düsseldorf: Viva
Walter Carlos: Sonic Seasonings
Ashra: New Age of Earth

Those are the three I go back to all the time.

From One Depression To Another: The Twilite Broadcasters Carry On the Harmonies Of the Great Brother Duets

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Jul 132010

This feature profile originally appeared in the Mountain Xpress.

The annual Swannanoa Gathering is an ideal locale for interviewing the Twilite Broadcasters. Here, on the campus of Warren Wilson College, Adam Tanner and Mark Jackson are surrounded by fellow musicians obsessed with the myriad forms of archaic Americana. A killer multi-instrumentalist and mainstay on the Western North Carolina folk scene, Tanner is scheduled to play several times during the week-long, workshop-intensive exploration of traditional song and fiddle.

Swannanoa Valley is gorgeous tonight. For now, the suffocating heat has relented. After meeting-up outside Morris Pavilion we grab beers from Highland Brewing’s makeshift tent and carve out turf near the fiddle circle, from which a serene drone permeates the atmosphere.

The Weaverville duo is beside itself. “Did you just see Charlie Louvin perform?” they both ask, minds clearly blown.

A member of the music staff at this year’s Gathering, Louvin is one of their idols. The Louvin Brothers, Charlie and Ira, helped pioneer the close-harmony/brother-duets tradition the Twilite Broadcasters now mine. Sandwiched between the “hillbilly” craze of the ’20s and bluegrass’ ascent in the mid ’40s, it’s a stripped-down, melancholic style of country music that found a home during the Great Depression, with groups like the Monroe Brothers, the Delmore Brothers, the Blue Sky Boys and the Rich-R-Tone-era Stanley Brothers.

I first caught Jackson and Tanner (who started playing together in 2008) last summer at the Bluff Mountain Festival in Hot Springs. Their act totally stuck out. During what felt like a laid-back gathering of family and friends, the Broadcasters gave a real-deal performance, one steeped in professionalism and hardcore music scholarship. Their vintage sartorial flavor, sharp but not enslaved to a bygone era, made their stage presence only that much more formal.

The disconnect between their intensity and Bluff Mountain’s pastoral vibe is something the Broadcasters believe is a region-wide phenomenon. “[Asheville] is a casual town when it comes to folk culture, and Mark and I are into stuff that’s a bit more edgy,” says Tanner, a Californian by birth. “What we do is a presentation, and some people are uncomfortable with presentation. If it isn’t about the communal, ‘we’re all one’ thing, then people can be a put off. That’s just not our focus. We’re trying to put on an old-fashioned show.”

This explains why there’s also a kind of subtle irony in hanging with Jackson and Tanner at The Swannanoa Gathering. To invoke a Seeger-family dichotomy: It’s an awesome event for sure, but ultimately it favors the egalitarian, jam-session ethos long espoused by Pete Seeger. The Broadcasters, in contrast, have adopted more of a Mike Seeger perspective: folk revivalism isn’t always about open participation and camaraderie; sometimes, it’s about a small group of skilled musicians attempting to hone a singular language, something unique to that particular ensemble.

The Twilite Broadcasters aren’t alone. Over the last several years a handful of younger musicians have emerged who clearly graduated from the Mike Seeger school, including the Carolina Chocolate Drops, the Black Twig Pickers just outside Roanoke, Brooklyn’s Dust Busters and the enigmatic Frank Fairfield. As with the Twilite Broadcasters, these artists create music that means something in the now by balancing extreme erudition in old-school folk and country with a desire to wipe away wispy mountain nostalgia.

Indeed, there’s currency in Tanner and Jackson’s aesthetic. Instead of producing a strict retro-shtick, they’ve distilled what’s universal about this old-time tradition. The close-harmony/brother-duets style, you see, didn’t just die off; it was sucked into mainstream country and pop music. Whenever you hear tight, soaring vocal work — everybody from the Everlys and the Osbornes to the Byrds and Big Star — you’re hearing the descendants of those first-generation groups mentioned above.

“There were certain guys in the ’60s who carried on the tradition of the Louvins and the Monroes,” explains Tanner. “Buck Owens and Don Rich definitely did, so we started incorporating some of that stuff into our set.”

Jackson, who spent his childhood in southwest Virginia listening to both country and rock music, picks up the thread. “On the Beatles’ Live at the BBC album they do that Carl Perkins song ‘Sure to Fall (In Love With You),’ and it’s so much like a Louvins song. It’s so stripped down. It’s country music.”

The Twilite Broadcasters have yet to record “Sure to Fall,” but their debut album Evening Shade, recorded at Altamont Recording, contains numerous tracks reflecting their ability to look beyond history’s gauzy surface. My favorite stretch comes near disc’s end when the pair jump smoothly from the Everly Brothers (“Long Time Gone”) to the traditional ballad “Pretty Red Shoes” (aka “Who’s Gonna Shoe Your Pretty Little Feet”) to the exquisite fiddle tune and title track “Evening Shade.”

With other jam circles now soaking the air around us, the Broadcasters close out our talk with an irony that easily surpasses any we’ve thus far discussed.

“We’re making Depression-era music, and we’re right back there,” says Tanner, with a laugh. “So we’re kind of like, ‘Hey, it worked back then, so it might work now.’”

It’s a rather sad notion, but hey, that’s the nature of this wonderful music.

Bass in Yo Face: Shaking It To Pocahaunted’s Outsider Funk

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Jun 162010

This feature article originally appeared in Asheville, North Carolina’s Mountain Xpress.

Pocahaunted’s new album, Make It Real, needs to be cranked the way one would a killer dub joint, say Keith Hudson’s Nuh Skin Up Dub or Wackie’s Natures Dub:

Overdrive the bass, kill the treble.

For those unfamiliar with the splendor that is mind-rattling bass, this sounds excessive, I’m sure. Basically, you want the low-end — Diva Dompe’s bass and the gooey organ of Cameron Stallones (who has since been replaced by Leyna Noel) — so loud it blossoms into a massive, rumbling vortex, around which every other sound/instrument is forced to orbit. This includes all manner of wobbly percussive clatter, skronk-sax, the six-string’s metronomic melodicism and, of course, Amanda Brown’s patent arsenal of echo-laden shrieks, yelps, moans, groans and howls.

“Before [Make It Real], none of us had ever thought about being in a band with really prominent bass,” says Brown, talking via cell from her pad in L.A. (the Eagle Rock ‘hood to be specific). “In both indie and drone, you don’t really think about the bass. The bottom isn’t always the most important thing. If we wrote parts that we couldn’t dance to, then we ditched them. If we couldn’t feel that vibe, then we stopped the part. So this is us being dance-y. This is what outsiders do when making dance music.”

Pocahaunted hasn’t been a full ensemble for too long. Likewise, they didn’t always make, as Brown likes to define it, “outsider funk.” The group’s only constants, since its earliest cassettes and CD-Rs began seeping into underground noise and rock circles in 2006, are Brown and her myriad vocal manipulations. Back then the group consisted of just her and pal Bethany Cosentino. The duo, like a lot of young freakers wandering the outer fringes of sound over the last five to six years, began tinkering with extended, free-form-psychedelic drones: blurry, tribal-tinged incantations lovingly guarded in a nest of crackling feedback and distortion.

It was fun for a while, Brown admits, producing a clutch of transcendent recordings. But as she points out, the world of drone and noise, which is overrun almost exclusively with dudes obsessed with free improv and trippy head noise, is no long-term domicile for a woman who also harbors a love for funk, dub, afrobeat and monolithic bass that get asses moving.

An early harbinger of dissatisfaction came in the form of 2008′s Island Diamonds, which consists of four extended tracks (all of them ripe for remixes). It wouldn’t be inaccurate to frame the record as “Nyabingi noise twee” or some other cheeky-music-nerd phrase. It’s still in the “drone zone,” as my friend Bent Crayon jokingly calls it, but creeping into the murk’s lower strata are dubby dance grooves Brown and Cosentino dipped in boiling water and twisted into a host of delicious shapes.

Brown, as a matter of fact, wasn’t the only one growing restless. An incorrigible fan of the Beach Boys, the Ronettes and even Billy Joel, Cosentino relocated to New York City in autumn 2008. Re-christening herself Best Coast, she embraced her love of pure pop and has since garnered serious, uh, “indie buzz” for her hook-stained, lo-fi ear candy (think Wavves, Ariel Pink, No Age).

“The band basically ended,” says Brown. “It took me a while to figure out what to do with the Pocahaunted name. So I asked the most elite friends I had to come together and start writing weird funk songs. It took a long time to get a new sound. We didn’t release anything for a while. We just wrote, practiced and played shows.”

Make It Real, released in March on Not Not Fun, the label she runs with her husband and bandmate Britt, is the end result of Brown’s self-imposed cocoon stage. But unlike Cosentino’s Best Coast project, Pocahaunted 2.0 isn’t a resolute dismissal of the group’s drone past, more like a subtle negotiation. It’s a fantastic summertime soundtrack: catchy, quirky and fun. Plus, the production, an unwieldy wash of reverb, gels smoothly with humid nights and sticky tees.

Comparisons to the Slits are tempting, but the group’s reckless moxie actually reminds me of Calvin Johnson’s Dub Narcotic Sound System, who preached the gospel of dub to indie brats back in the mid 1990s; only Johnson never had a bassist as commanding as Dompe. Inventive patterns, fluid runs — she also lumbers like a woolly mammoth stoned on Percocet.

Not everything is snap-focus groove research, however. Eight-plus minutes of brutal mutant beauty, the track “UFO” (A nod to ESG?) swims in an avant-garde ecstasy reminiscent of old-school Pocahaunted. With Dompe maintaining the center, voice, organ, drums, sax and guitar drift out to sea, losing sight of shore and absolutely loving it. On “UFO” (and to a lesser extent “You Do Voo Doo”) the outsider-to-funk ratio definitely swings in favor of the former.

Nearing the end of our talk, Brown talks about the ways in which Pocahaunted’s new sound has affected its fan base. Though crowd reception isn’t something she’s terribly concerned with, Brown chews on it from time to time. As she sees it, they’re currently trudging across the “muddy middle;” Make It Real is too dance-oriented for the noise/drone scene the group is gradually leaving behind, yet still too weird, sonically, for the indie-rock crowd. Recently, they opened for Vampire Weekend, with whom they share a love for afro-pop and afrobeat. The band’s knack for making its young fans boogie blew her away, yet Brown ultimately believes, “We’re not ever going to be grouped in with them, because they’re so bouncy and clean.”

I wholeheartedly concur. Not in a million years would a Vampire Weekend album ever inspire me to overdrive the bass and kill the treble. Those settings are reserved for heavy “riddims” only — like Make It Real.

Unburied Treasure: A Folkie’s Revival Continues With a Set Of Previously Unreleased Recordings

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Nov 142007

(This feature/column appeared in Cleveland’s Scene magazine. The SF Weekly also published a version of it under the title “Devendra Banhart loves Karen Dalton — Now You Can Too.”)

karen-dalton Since her death in 1993, Karen Dalton’s fan base has grown faster than a Colorado mountain town. And fans can thank a retired builder from Indiana named Joe Loop for a new batch of previously unheard recordings, Cotton Eyed Joe — a collection of songs Dalton made in the early ’60s.

Back in 1961, Loop was just another Midwest bohemian who read Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, dropped out of school, and headed west. He eventually settled in Boulder, Colorado, where he stumbled into owning the Attic, a tiny club serving as a key stop on America’s rapidly expanding folk-music circuit.

In an intimate setting that sat no more than 50, Loop booked many of the scene’s top folkies — including a pre-Byrds David Crosby, the Holy Modal Rounders, and John Phillips (several years before he formed the Mamas & the Papas). But it was Dalton, a young beauty with long black hair and Irish-Cherokee blood coursing through her veins, who really caught Loop’s ear and eye. He brought a portable reel-to-reel to the Attic soon after Dalton’s 1962 audition and started recording his new friend’s performances. Those songs make up Cotton Eyed Joe.

“The early folk-music crowd was a pretty straight bunch and clean-cut,” recalls Loop. “That wasn’t Karen at all. She didn’t get noticed by that in-crowd scene, although there were a lot of musicians who liked her.”

Indeed. Bob Dylan adored her, as did folk-rock architect Fred Neil, whose deep, phantom croon was informed by Dalton’s. And as rock and roll legend has it, the Band’s “Katie’s Been Gone,” a classic Basement Tapes track, was written in her honor. Yet Dalton — who split time between Boulder, Woodstock, and New York City, like many other wandering folkies back in the day — never achieved mainstream recognition in her lifetime. But like many great blues singers, Dalton exuded dark romance, spiritual mystery, and brooding emotion. “It’s cliché to say, but she had real soul,” says Loop.

There are several reasons why Dalton never became one of folk’s poster children. For one, unlike many of her contemporaries, Dalton lacked business savvy. Also, she made just two studio albums: 1969’s It’s So Hard to Tell Who’s Going to Love You the Best and 1971’s In My Own Time, a knotted chunk of rural soul that stands alongside such singer-songwriter landmarks as Nick Drake’s Pink Moon and Neil Young’s Harvest.

“Performing was a weak spot for her,” says Loop. “The Attic was different, because it was a small place and she was comfortable there. But there was something about a gig. She just had trouble facing that.”

Loop and Dalton kept in touch — even when the fragile singer suffered through commercial failures and devastating addictions to hard drugs and alcohol. Loop remained one of her biggest fans and most loyal friends. He constantly tried to turn others on to Dalton’s music. But few shared his obsession.

Through the decades, Loop brooded over those old reels he made at the Attic (which closed in 1963), frequently playing them in private, because no one else ever cared to listen. “I knew it was good stuff, but what do you do with it?” he says. “There wasn’t anything to do with those tapes for the longest time.”

Until now. Popular taste has apparently caught up with the enigmatic Dalton. Deluxe CD reissues of her two LPs have precipitated a deluge of critical gush. Indie hipsters Devendra Banhart and Joanna Newsom and all their freak-folk followers treat Dalton like a patron saint.

When the French imprint Megaphone was preparing its rerelease of Dalton’s debut last year, the label tracked down Loop for archival photographs. Not only did he hook Megaphone up with a wealth of never-before-seen photos; he unleashed those old Attic recordings, which few Dalton experts even knew existed.

And Cotton Eyed Joe sounds great — especially coming from an amateur recorder who was working with early ’60s gear. More important, however, the two-disc set captures a side of Dalton that her original releases never could. “On her first record, she’s making room for the other players,” says Loop. “But on Cotton Eyed Joe, she doesn’t have to wait for anybody. She’s free to bring in all the subtleties in her timing and playing. This disc shows what she can do by herself.”

Like blues maverick John Lee Hooker, Dalton’s pained cry follows such a deeply individualized sense of rhythm and melody that it blossoms during solo performances. The songs heave and lunge like ocean waves breaking upon a rock-strewn beach. The same can be said of her guitar and banjo picking — both of which are downright virtuosic. “On ‘Fannin’ Street’ her guitar sounds like an orchestra,” says Loop. “It’s hard to believe one person is doing all that.”

But because Cotton Eyed Joe is such a personal statement, it’s a far more challenging listen than It’s So Hard to Tell and In My Own Time. “It’s not a very good introductory CD,” admits Loop. “But on the other hand, people who have already heard Karen will really like it. If people take the time to listen, I don’t know how they could not like her.”

Classic Rock Crate Digger: A Few Thoughts on This New Runaways Flick

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May 042010

“Classic Rock Crate Digger” is a column I write for the Rhapsody Blog.

So, this new Runaways flick. The Crate Digger recently saw it and had a swell time. To begin with, I got to see it at a small, art-house cinema that offers a top-shelf selection of American craft beers. Sipping finely brewed suds while listening to “Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch Cherry Bomb” at top volume was a small but unforgettable slice of heaven.

As for the movie itself, it’s far better than your average rocker-biopic, yet not a stone-cold classic by any means. Afterward, I jotted down some notes (likes, dislikes, insights, etc). I figure it’s my duty to share these with my fellow classic-rock fanatics. Dig in!

More Runaways History, Less Cherie Currie and Joan Jett’s Love Affair
It’s true! Nineteen-year-old Kristen Stewart sucks face with little Dakota Fanning (who was just 15 when The Runaways was filmed). That’s far out — and borderline illegal. Call me asexual, but I’m more concerned with the story arc. There’s some faulty construction. The film is titled The Runaways, yet it too often ditches the band’s story for the drama surrounding Currie and Jett. If you didn’t know anything about the group, then the movie’s narrative would have you believe The Runaways broke up after Currie’s departure. But they soldiered on, even recording two more albums, Waitin’ for the Night and And Now… The Runaways, both of which contain some killer rock. In all fairness, director Floria Sigismondi’s movie is an adaptation of Currie’s memoir, Neon Angel: A Memoir of a Runaway, which is more about her, obviously. But then comes the million-dollar question: why not call the flick Neon Angel?

Killer Performance Scenes, Believe It or Not
I’m no John Carpenter, but concert/club performances have got to be the hardest scenes to pull off when filming a rocker biopic. The majority of them flat-out suck. But not those in The Runaways. No ma’am. Sigismondi is an accomplished director of music videos, so she knows what she’s doing. The concert/club scenes are awesome, totally authentic rock ‘n’ roll glamour.

Michael Shannon Owns Kim Fowley
Several critics claim Michael Shannon’s portrayal of Svengali manager Kim Fowley steals the show. I won’t go that far, but I’m tempted to. If you don’t know anything at all about the bigger-than-life Fowley, then chances are you’ll dismiss Shannon as 100% ham. But he’s not. Go to the Dangerous Minds website and check out Richard Metzger’s recent interview with Fowley. Study the guy’s mannerisms, ticks and quirks; there are many. Shannon nailed every one with precision accuracy. More importantly, Shannon captured Fowley’s outlandish mix of dreamer, joker, con man and vile devil. Great stuff.

Dakota Fanning and Kristen Stewart
On paper the child star everybody loves to hate and that girl from the Twilight franchise make for an awful Cherie Currie and Joan Jett. And while their looks are a little too Hollywood clean, both did their homework and turned in killer performances that are extremely physical in nature. Fanning in skimpy lingerie howling and rockin’ out is one wild spectacle.

These Girls Really Were Teenagers
Books can do things movies can’t and movies can do things books can’t — this is something we all know. What The Runaways really showed me (which no piece of rock journalism ever has) is the tension existing between these kids’ ability to rock and their tender, young ages. It made me think back to the girls who attended my junior high and high school, and imagining one of them getting on stage — donning lingerie, no less — and wailing in a deep, menacing tenor, or one of them shredding like Lita Ford when she was just 17. That’s insane!

From Cheap Trick to The Sex Pistols
Two scenes made me realize Sigismondi thoroughly researched 1970s pop culture. In the first, Jett, like any teenager swept up in a pop fad, frantically produces a homemade Sex Pistols T-shirt, complete with spray paint, safety pin and ripped collar. In the second, one of the Runaways — I’ve forgotten which one, sorry — sports a wicked-sweet Cheap Trick T-shirt. Together, these isolated moments very cleverly sum up The Runaways’ precarious image in the late 1970s. Nowadays, the group is often framed as punk rock. Back in the day, however, they were an entity unto themselves, producing a slyly unique fusion of arena rock, punk energy, glam and power-pop. The Runaways were beyond genre, really, which kind of made them difficult to market (Fowley didn’t help matters). Interestingly enough, the industry had similar issues with both Cheap Trick and AC/DC early in their careers. Were they mainstream rock or punk?

The Dazed and Confused Factor
This is a continuation of what I was just ranting about. Dazed and Confused, which joined the prestigious Criterion Collection in 2006, is one of the most culturally astute period pieces in Hollywood history. (Using Dylan’s “Hurricane” during the Emporium scenes? That’s pure brilliance.) More than that, Dazed and Confused looks awesome; every single scene is meticulously crafted to evoke a particular period in American pop culture. Sigismondi has to be a fan, because The Runaways feels profoundly inspired by its predecessor’s dedication to the details.

Where the F*#K Is My Girl Lita?
Poor Lita Ford. She played way too minor of a role. The only significant scenes I can recall portray her as a bully, yelling at Currie for acting like a stoned prima donna. To add insult to injury, Jett is the one who is framed as the band’s guitar hero. The main reason for this has to do with what I pointed out up above: the movie’s primary focus is Currie and Jett. Yet I suspect there are deeper cultural reasons that I’ll try my best to unpack. Ford’s post-Runaways career, that of half-naked hair metal pinup, doesn’t jibe with the band’s ever-evolving legacy as feminist-punk forerunners of the riot grrrl movement. However inaccurate, this has become the band’s dominant image, and it leaves no room for a woman who allowed herself to be objectified by scummy dudes who also owned Mötley Crüe and Ratt records. This is stupidity. Ford’s contributions cannot be ignored. It was her powerful guitar playing, not Jett’s, that made The Runaways so hard to peg. Her style has more to do with Ritchie Blackmore and Joe Perry than Johnny Thunders. She’s the one who supplied the heavy-metal heft; she’s the one who turned them into a true rock ‘n’ roll beast. Without her, the group would’ve been just another glam-punk hybrid with bubblegum hooks. (Trivia: Joan Jett and Lita Ford weren’t the only Runaways to have successful careers post-breakup. The group’s original bassist was one Micki Steele, who eventually found fame with The Bangles.)

The End
Confusing scene near the end. Flash to the early 1980s: Joan — after The Runaways have crashed and burned, apparently — tries to kick-start her muse. She jumps about her bed (in a dingy rock pad in L.A.) while working out the riff/lyrics to “I Love Rock N’ Roll.” Next thing you know, the soundtrack kicks in the actual tune, as if to announce the birth of solo star JOAN JETT. Did Sigismondi actually mean to imply that Jett went straight from The Runaways to scoring her calling-card hit? If so, it’s not accurate. Jett recorded an unreleased demo in 1979, with the Sex Pistols’ Steve Jones and Paul Cook backing her. She then released her solo debut (aka Bad Reputation), before re-recording the song in 1981, this time with the Blackhearts. What’s more, the scene also appears to imply that Jett wrote the song. But she didn’t. This band called the Arrows first recorded it in 1975. Oh well. Doesn’t totally matter. Joan’s version slays.

Summerfest Day Three: Classic Rock Crate Digger

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Jul 022010

Rhapsody asked me — actually, the Classic Rock Crate Digger — to head to Milwaukee to cover Summerfest, the city’s annual music-festival tradition. I stayed for three days and wrote a dispatch for each one for the Rhapsody Blog. Below is the second. Here’s the first and second.

Ah, day three of Team Rhapsody’s intrepid sojourn into the bowls of Summerfest, the largest music festival in our wondrous solar system. This is our final stand — the last hurrah. Friday is the busiest day yet, no question about it. A ton of patriotic Americans, more than primed for the three-day weekend, have obviously ditched the 9-to-5 slave trade in favor of wandering Henry Maier Festival Park for the next 10 hours.

As our routine now dictated, we kicked-off our early afternoon schedule with an interview: Christian metalcore missionaries The Devil Wears Prada, who headlined the CoolTV Rock Stage. Fun stuff for sure — they’re young and sassy and talkative. Hold on a second; did I mention young? The band and just about everyone in their entourage looked as if they required permission slips from their parents to tour the country without a chaperon watching their every move. By the way, if any TDWP fans are reading this, lookout for a special EP release in the very near future. Hopefully, we’ll be adding it to Rhapsody’s catalog as soon as it comes out.

While chatting about Mike Hranica’s now-defunct grind project xGUMBYx, I heard a low, ominous grumble. I initially assumed it was Hranica shifting into his cookie-monster growl, some kind of pre-show ritual, possibly. But it was actually my stomach. A massive VACANCY sign was plastered across it. After parting ways with Hranica and his vocal foil Jeremy DePoyster around 2:30, I scoured the festival grounds for the ultimate in Summerfest cuisine, which is basically [insert food] dipped in fried grease. The Crate Digger’s poor, little tummy wasn’t totally prepared for this; despite my love of the heavy jams and hard rock, I’m an organic-loving wussy when it comes to food. (Yes, this means I often crank Thin Lizzy’s Fighting album while sipping a warm cup of green tea.)

Nevertheless, I felt a weird compulsion to do a Charles Kuralt-inspired “slice of American life” tour of the concession stands in order to discover what unique culinary treats the fine people of Milwaukee enjoy devouring. So, without further ado, here are three dishes that totally scream SUMMERFEST!

Mozzarella Marinara from the legendary Saz’s. That isn’t your garden-variety breading, people. It’s an eggroll crust. And yes, what you’re feeling in your chest is every major artery trembling with fear. This has to be the dish of Summerfest, even better than the fried cheese curds.

An informal survey about a flagship meat dish produced a virtual tie between Crawdaddy’s Alligator On a Stick and Mader’s Bratwurst with Dill Pickle and Sauerkraut. I went with the latter, as the gator dish sounded way too Delta for the Rust Belt. Plus, it’s just gross.

A Funnel Cake from Schwabenhof = simple classic elegance. Never, and I mean, never attend a music festival of this magnitude without eating, like 6 of these.

Okay. Now on to the jams.

Friday, for me at least, was all about the big names who only perform after the sun has dropped from the western sky. I did, however, catch one daytime act that impressed me. Around 4 p.m., over at the Harley-Davidson Roadhouse stage, I caught a classic biker-rock band ripping into a vintage Bo Diddley beat, only the guitarist, who totally wailed, used a tone that reminded me of Degüello-era Billy Gibbons. It was a group by the name of The Alex Wilson Band. They were pretty damn sweet.

The Heavy At 8 p.m. I caught The Heavy, whom we interviewed earlier in the day, over at the U.S. Cellular Connections stage. The U.K. quartet has a very classic sound, nervy soul-rock with a garage edge, and a lead singer, Kelvin Swaby, who knows how to really croon. I mean, they are definitely gimmicky in a hipster/indie sort of way. But like the Black Keys, as well as their friends the Dap-Kings, they possess a fairly subtle understanding of vintage sounds without ever devolving into retro-shenanigans. Folks went particularly wild when they busted out the jam “What You Want Me to Do?,” which appeared in an episode of Stargate Universe not too long ago (yes, I’m a sci-fi nerd, too).

Like the night before, Summerfest scheduled multiple heavy-hitters at the same time. In Friday’s case it was Scorpions and Yes. I would’ve loved to see both sets in their entirety, but unfortunately, I was forced to ping-pong about the festival grounds, which by 9 p.m. were beyond packed. It was overwhelming. In addition to thousands of bodies colliding into one another in some kind of squirmy quantum dance, there was lots of spilled beer, as well as the occasional golf-cart ambulance violently slicing into the throngs. But hey, this, I quickly learned, is what Summerfest is all about. It’s supposed to be crowded, sweaty and raucous. This is festival tradition, one going all the way back to the infamous bonfire riots of 1973 (Humble Pie was the headliner back then).

I also learned something else here at Summerfest: Milwaukee takes its vintage hard-rock very seriously. This is why the Scorpions have one of the most coveted spots of the entire festival: Friday night at the Harley-Davidson Roadhouse stage. Now, getting excited for a Scorpions concert in 2010 might seem a tad silly and anachronistic. But as I mentioned in my review of the 1975 album In Trance, the group has long suffered from an identity crisis. They made their bread ‘n’ butter on a string of syrupy hair-metal anthems in the 1980s and early ’90s. This is the stuff younger generations of rock fans associate with the band — the power ballad “Wind of Change” for example. But for the older guard who came of age partying in the ’70s (we’ll throw self-professed fan Craig Finn in there as well), the Scorps were a badass proto-metal band who, along with Judas Priest and Rainbow, helped lay the groundwork for the New Wave of British Heavy Metal. (I talk more about the legends of proto-metal in a recent installment of my “Classic Rock Crate Digger” column.)

Anyway, the crowd, frenzied and impenetrable, was ready to say goodbye to its heroes. The Scorpions, you see, announced their retirement back in January, just a couple months before the release of what just might be their final album, the above-average Sting of the Tail. This means the group’s current tour could be their final romp across the States. Though most fans were totally “feeling it,” I had to agree with one dude whom I overheard say to pal, “Man, I love this band, but I don’t know about this set list.” Translation: way too many of those syrupy power ballads and not enough of the old-school metal from the 1970s. I stuck around for a while, but ultimately I was a little bummed.

Maneuvering from stage to stage was darn near impossible by the end of the night. But I finally fought my way to the M&I Classic stage to catch a little bit of Yes’ set. I came just at the right time, too: a 10-minute acoustic guitar solo from Steve Howe followed by one of the band’s “new wave” hits, “Owner of a Lonely Heart.” Say what you will about the band’s ’80s output; I think this tune is a killer track, right up there with anything from Genesis’ new-wave phase. It was also the perfect ending to my stint at Summerfest 2010: hanging with a mass of heady prog-rock fans so large it could’ve easily filled up two to three Wal-Mart parking lots is something I won’t easily forget.

Goodbye Milwaukee — hello detox!

Summerfest Day Two: Classic Rock Crate Digger

Classic Rock Crate Digger, Concert Reviews, Feature Articles, Rhapsody Blog No Responses »

Jul 012010

Thursday started off in spectacular fashion, if I do say so myself: blazing yellow sun, clear blue skies and talking Thin Lizzy with Craig Finn, whose band The Hold Steady was running through a morning soundcheck at the U.S. Cellular Connection Stage in preparation of their 10 p.m. performance.

Actually, during our interview we talked about several bands near and dear to our classic-rock loving, uh, butts, including early Scorpions and the mighty UFO. But we really dug into Thin Lizzy. I told Finn — who is a super-swell dude, as well as a top-shelf record nerd — that I thought too many rock critics mention Springsteen when attempting to parse his influences. It’s true. You can’t read a review or feature that doesn’t contain a reference to The Boss and how his street-rock storytelling helped shape Finn’s own rock-and-roll poetics. Springsteen is definitely a defining force, but I also hear a strong Phil Lynott influence. In fact, on the new album, Heaven is Whenever, the tune “Rock Problems” contains a few key tricks (especially the twin-like guitar lines) clearly inspired by Thin Lizzy. Finn wholeheartedly agreed and was pretty stoked to be talking about one of his favorite bands. I got the feeling that he wishes more writers would cite the great Phil Lynott.

I had a long break between interviews today, which means I was able to wander during daytime hours more than I did yesterday. As with every other day of the festival, all the stages opened around noon, with bar bands specializing in classic rock covers or brawny electric blues dominating the earliest slots. There was 2nd Wave, a local ’80s tribute band; Rosewood & Steel, who tackled the Beatles chestnut “Don’t Let me Down;” and the harmonica-driven Back Alley Band. The Crate Digger grew up at the other end of Rust Belt (Central New York to be specific), and I’m of the opinion that bar rock and rugged, Alligator-informed blues has always been bigger in these parts than just about anywhere else in America. There’s just something about the punch-the-clock culture of the industrial north that remains committed to these sounds. In a lot of ways, it’s the region’s folk music.

Nightfall is when the heavy hitters began to emerge. And there were many, chief among them Latin-rock icon Santana over at Marcus Amphitheater. Seating up to 25,000, it is by far the largest stage at Summerfest. Carlos was good and consistent as always (though I had to jet early to catch The Hold Steady). Admittedly, I was more excited to see his opener: Mr. Steve Winwood, whose current tour is a career overview coinciding with the release of his new compilation Revolutions: The Very Best of Steve Winwood. I’m not going to lie to you. I think Winwood’s absolute peak as an artist came with Traffic, who released two of my all-time fave rock albums: Mr. Fantasy (a.k.a. Heaven is in Your Mind) and the band’s self-titled sophomore effort. I wanted to hear him perform stuff from this era (I can’t say the same of his solo output from the 1980s and ’90s). Luckily, his set peaked with a searing rendition of “Dear Mr. Fantasy.” The Winwood on this song sounded like a completely different man who performed the rest of the set, including the show’s finale, “Gimme Some Lovin’.” Everything else was the product of a seasoned veteran who knows his material inside and out. But this was the sound of a man digging deep into his clouded past to make something old new again. His voice sounded sharp and dynamic, while his guitar was even better. The dude totally slayed, closing out the song with a solo that was twice as loud as the rest of the band. Heavy stuff for sure.

I closed out the night, splitting time between two shows: The Hold Steady (U.S. Cellular Connection Stage) and Joan Jett & The Blackhearts (The CoolTV Rock Stage). I was pretty bummed that Summerfest scheduled both bands at 10 p.m., thus forcing me into this situation. But oh well. Too much is always better than too little. Though The Hold Steady are the new kids on the block when compared to Jett and Winwood, they really do possess an old-school appreciation of rock-and-roll mythology. Right from the opening lines of “Constructive Summer” the crowd echoed every single word Finn sang. This carried on song after song: “Stuck Between Stations,” “Sequestered in Memphis,” “The Sweet Part of the City.” A lot has been made of Finn the rock poet, yet he’s a killer frontman as well. Small and balding, he flails about, incessantly shooting his arms in the air while pouting, frowning and smiling, all with a grand playfulness. He’s like some nerdy kid who has been given an opportunity to act out all his rock-and-roll fantasies before a real, live audience.

Speaking of diminutive rockers packed with charisma, Jett blew away a massive audience, most of them total diehards with fists that couldn’t stop pumping. A Blackhearts set needs very little explaining. They took the stage and played one massive hit after another. Occasionally, Jett told a great story and came off like the coolest woman on the planet. Or, some tech dude came out and handed her a guitar. Next to him, she looked like the smallest woman on the planet – but still ultra-cool, of course. Because I had to hoof it over from The Hold Steady show next door, I arrived late. However, I caught “Cherry Bomb,” “You Drive Me Wild,” “Do You Wanna Touch Me” and a fantastic version of the Replacements’ “Androgynous.” Joan is a good songwriter, but her taste in covers is exquisite, as The Mats’ tune clearly demonstrates.

All in all, Jett most certainly drove me wild. In fact, she drove me straight to bed. I’m exhausted! Time to recharge the batteries for Friday. It’s going to be an intense one.

Summerfest Day One: Classic Rock Crate Digger

Classic Rock Crate Digger, Concert Reviews, Feature Articles, Rhapsody Blog No Responses »

Jul 012010

Sclemeel, Schlemazel, Hasenfeffer Incorporated.

We’re gonna do it, people: the Classic Rock Crate Digger, along with the rest of Team Rhapsody, is here in Milwaukee attending the all mighty Summerfest.

Now, there might be music festivals out there with more hipster cache or street cred as they say, but none are bigger, or longer, than the “Big Gig,” as it has come to be known through the decades. Summerfest is, according to the Guinness World Records, the largest music festival in the world. Each and every year hundreds of thousands of ready-to-party-hard concert-goers pass through the gates of Henry Maier Festival Park (a 75-acre spread tucked in between downtown Milwaukee and Lake Michigan) to catch a who’s who in rock, pop, hip-hop, R&B, country, comedy, folk and more. Surrounding the festival’s 11 stages is what amounts to a sizeable carnival: a gazillion food vendors, copious amounts of beer, family fun stuff, a market where trinkets are sold and an actual Skyglider that runs the length of the park.

So yeah, this sucker is no joke.

Because of its enormity, Summerfest possesses a breadth and diversity that’s more or less unrivalled. Today was no exception. But before I dive into some of the bands and artists I checked out, I want to talk about the cool interviews Team Rhapsody conducted. In fact, I had to put off any hardcore concert-going until nightfall, because our day was filled with so much backstage hobnobbing.

We sat down with three bands: Puddle of Mudd, Umphrey’s McGee and Chevelle, all of whom played later in the evening. All three interviews went really well, even if I was a tad nervous. The most memorable moment came when we talked with Wes Scantlin on P.o.M.’s tour bus. First off, I think our crew barged in just as the dude was dozing off. But hey, he was a good sport about it — and affable, too. During these interviews, you never know what’s going to come up in the course of conversation. And for some odd reason, Scantlin and I started talking about Jim “Dandy” Mangrum of the southern-rock institution Black Oak Arkansas (Jim Dandy to the rescue…). Amazingly, he saw Dandy perform not too long ago (I failed to find out why). He said the guy was totally insane (he is), running around the stage shirtless, with beyond-tight spandex pants on. Now I have to admit, as a hardcore fan of classic rock, this blew my mind wide open. Dandy is one of the most audacious rock gods to ever walk this fine planet of ours. He is the proto-David Lee Roth for crying out loud. I told Scantlin that Puddle of Mudd should think seriously about some kind of collaboration with him; maybe they could all wear matching spandex. I don’t think he knew what to say to that. He just kind of shook his head incredulously at the very thought.

A couple hours after we bid Scantlin adieu, he and P.o.M. climbed the steps to the Harley-Davidson Roadhouse stage and proceeded to put Milwaukee in a headlock and give it a big, old wedgie. The group opened with their most recent single: “Stoned.” “I gotta get this shit off my chest/ Another sucker behind a desk/ You try to tell me that you know best,” Scantlin howled as the crowd echoed his every word with fist-pumping fervor.

Puddle of Mudd weren’t the only band pouring truckloads of post-grunge attitude on the festival. Both Chevelle and Cavo also unloaded their respective brands of heaviness. Chevelle in particular is really quite impressive, considering they are only a trio, yet they churn out a sound that’s as powerful as it is wiry and pared down. I took the rage down a notch or three when I split time between The Dark Star Orchestra, the wildly successful Grateful Dead tribute band, and modern jam-band heroes Umphrey’s McGee. To see these two back to back actually made me realize how the latter isn’t necessarily a jam band. I mean, they are in many key respects, particularly when they marry their free improvisation chops to reggae-inspired rhythms. But ultimately, they sound more like mid- to late-1970s Genesis than The Dead. In other words — and if you want to get all nerdy about it — Umphrey’s McGee are more about prog-rock precision than hippie-fried formlessness.

Speaking of progressive rock, I ended my night the way any true fan of classic rock should: at the M&I Classic Rock Stage watching them Moody Blues. I was kind of surprised by their turn-out. I know the Moodies are a popular concert draw still, but I think they attracted a larger crowd than just about anybody else I caught this evening, Puddle of Mudd included. It was packed for sure. Plus, they had the best sound by far: flute, synthesizer, double-neck guitar and the double-drummers set-up were all mixed into a crystalline perfection. Iconic singer and songwriter Justin Hayward even made a bizarre joke about digging Viagra just before the band launched into their 1969 classic “Higher and Higher,” from the To Our Children’s Children’s Children album. The Moody Blues provided just the right finale — smooth and dreamy. Tomorrow, the hard stuff is a-coming my way.

Give me a J-O-A-N J-E-T-T.

What’s that spell?

Rock and roll.

I Am Ghost

Seattle Weekly, Show Previews No Responses »

Jun 302010

This show preview originally appeared in the Seattle Weekly.

I Am Ghost is the ultimate wet dream for the Hot Topic crowd. Over the course of two albums, , the pop-screamo act has developed a visual aesthetic that’s equal parts My Chemical Romance and the Twilight franchise. These dudes are all about applying thick mascara, soaking their heads in jet-black hair dye and flirting with dark forces. In fact, back in 2007 bass player Brian Telestai and his wife, violinist Kerith Telestai, fled the group they helped put together, because they couldn’t reconcile their Christian faith with their bandmates’ growing love of the undead. Undeterred, I Am Ghost soldiered on and will release their third full-length sometime this year.

Kill the Head Playlist

Kill the Head No Responses »

Jun 252010

My internet-radio show, Kill the Head, “airs” every Friday, 5 to 7:o0 p.m. (eastern), on Asheville Free Media.

This week Kill the Head spotlighted harsh-noise musician Pat Yankee. In addition to his Paranoid Time project, Yankee runs two labels highly respected in the underground: SNSE and Gaping Hole. I was very lucky to have the man himself in the studio. Between spinning a ton of killer jams and gabbing about his music and labels, we covered a lot of ground in just two hours. A great show all around. Thanks, Pat!

Here’s the playlist for 06.25.2010.

Listen

Classic Rock Crate Digger: 10 Essential Proto-Metal Albums

Classic Rock Crate Digger, Rhapsody Blog No Responses »

Jun 222010

“Classic Rock Crate Digger” is a column I write for the Rhapsody Blog.

List the innovators of early heavy metal, and two bands sit at the top: Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. They are the groups most responsible for taking late-’60s hard rock — itself a bombastic mixture of blues, psychedelia, boogie and prog — and turning it into something wholly unique, a heavy music that rocked hard yet wasn’t really rock ‘n’ roll anymore.

Though we are forever in their debt, they weren’t the only bands during those heady days forging the new genre. They had plenty of help from the likes of Vanilla Fudge, Uriah Heep, Blue Cheer, the great Deep Purple and more. Much like Zeppelin and Sabbath, many of these groups can be considered both hard rock and heavy metal. Even groups such as Judas Priest, whose first record came out in 1974, started off exploring a decidedly progressive sound that was way more beard ‘n’ denim than hell-bent for leather.

If vintage proto-metal is your thing, then here are 10 essential albums that will blow your doors clear off. This isn’t a comprehensive list, mind you, but it does contain some seriously killer jams.

Dig in!

Vanilla Fudge
Vanilla Fudge
Vanilla Fudge suffered from myriad weaknesses: poor choice in covers, lousy songwriting, way too much schmaltzy blue-eyed soul and an unhealthy obsession with hippie-baked sonic poetry. Despite all this, the band’s 1967 debut was a radical statement on the possibilities of heaviness in rock ‘n’ roll. Whereas The Jimi Hendrix Experience swung hard but with agility, The Fudge rumbled like a couple of continental plates slowly ramming into one another. It’s a plodding aesthetic that would influence a whole generation of hard-rock icons, including Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin and Blue Cheer. (Justin Farrar)

The Jeff Beck Group
Truth
This was Jeff Beck’s first band — and album — after leaving The Yardbirds. Made up of Beck, Rod Stewart, Ron Wood and Mickey Waller, the Group gained notoriety for their clever reworking of blues, embellished with Beck’s visionary guitar, his fondness for electronic effects and his pioneering use of distortion and feedback. What sets this apart from any other British blues records at the time is that their sound is lighter and more fluid, and contains a unique dramatic element — the coiled tension of Beck’s guitar playing off Rod Stewart’s gritty, resolute singing. (Jaan Uhelszki)

Deep Purple
Machine Head
Machine Head might seem like too obvious of a pick for a list attempting to do a little crate digging. However, younger fans who are new to old-school metal don’t seem to “pedestalize” the mighty Deep Purple the way they do Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin. Yet back in the 1970s Deep Purple were every bit equals of those other bands in terms of volume and sonic ferociousness. This record right here is one of the greatest hard-rock jams ever made. There’s no debate, no discussion about it. If you’re a stranger to Machine Head’s mechanical roar, then be prepared to obsess over this platter for the next six months, easily. (J.F.)

Blue Oyster Cult
Secret Treaties
“Career of Evil” combines Sabbath with TV-theme cheese in a way no one thought of before, and if it were the only good song here, it might be OK to file B.O.C. away. But the menace of “Harvester of Eyes,” the weirdness of “Flaming Telepaths” and the boogie epic “ME 262″ make Secret Treaties no less than mandatory. (Mike McGuirk)

Judas Priest
Rocka Rolla
Worth it for hearing Judas Priest play flitty psych (check the “Winter Retreat” part of track three), Rocka Rolla is Priest’s proggy 1974 debut. More uncharacteristic moves come with “Caviar and Meths,” an instrumental comedown that closed things out on the original issue before an early version of “Diamonds and Rust” was added in 1987, along with a new van-art cover. Despite lacking its future identity, the band has its eternally distinctive rhythm-section chug already in place, and title cut “Rocka Rolla” is the best Priest song that doesn’t sound anything like Judas Priest. (M.M.)

Rainbow
Rising
Ritchie Blackmore has to be considered one of metal’s five greatest innovators, right up there with Jimmy Page and King Diamond. His first band, Deep Purple, helped invent the form. His second, the classical-inspired Rainbow, helped lay the groundwork for the New Wave of British Heavy Metal and later progressive metal. Rising, the group’s second album, is just awesome. Blackmore shreds, Dio howls and keyboardist Tony Carey lends the music a unique cosmic vibe. Think Judas Priest meets Tangerine Dream, and you’re not far off. You might want to rock a monk’s robe or a space suit for this one. (J.F.)

JPT Scare Band
Past is Prologue
Kansas City’s JPT Scare Band didn’t release an album until the 1990s, yet the group has been recording its burly jams since the early ’70s. If you dig thunderous proto-metal from the age of bell-bottoms and thick ‘staches, then you need to explore Past is Prologue. This wonderfully raw mishmash of once-forgotten demos is proto-metal heaven, particularly the 13-minute opus “Sleeping Sickness.” In 2007 Classic Rock magazine tagged the JPTs as “the lost pioneers of heavy metal.” That’s no overstatement. These dudes slayed with the best of them: Cactus, Black Pearl, Pentagram and so on. (J.F.)

Uriah Heep
Uriah Heep
No album cover better encapsulates its sonic contents than that of Uriah Heep’s 1970 debut. This record isn’t just a beast; it’s a humongous silver centipede sporting wings, fangs and a straggly goatee. It’s a fact that will bludgeon you as quickly as the three-minute mark of “Gypsy.” Organist Ken Hensley goes off, people. Guitarist Mick Box quickly follows him, spitting out a raging litany of reverb-fried hot licks. And remember: this is just the first song! Though the Heep turn mortal on a few lower-key tracks, they maintain this grizzly form for the bulk of the record. It’s gorgeous, really. (J.F.)

Scorpions
In Trance
In the ’80s, the Scorpions reinvented themselves as a pop-metal act heavy on power balladry so thoroughly that an entire generation of fans had no idea the group’s history stretches all the way back to 1972. It’s on In Trance that the band really tightened their attack. Gone are the bombastic prog-rock moves weighing down their first two LPs. Given new freedom, the twin leads of Ulrich Roth and Rudolf Schenker are vicious on both “Top of the Bill” and “Dark Lady,” one of the best album openers of the ’70s. On top of all that, the cover art nails the whole guitar-and-phallic-symbol mythology. (J.F.)

Blue Cheer
Vincebus Eruptum
As the tale goes, Blue Cheer were so loud that at one show a dog sitting on an amplifier actually exploded. Taking blues-rock cues from England and adding sun-blocking stacks of Marshall amps, these acid-charred hippies not only inspired the term “power trio,” they practically invented heavy metal. Try “Second Time Around.” (M.M.)

Honorable Mentions
Sir Lord Baltimore: Kingdom Come
Budgie: Squawk
Dust: Dust
Thin Lizzy: Fighting
Wishbone Ash: Argus
Necronomicon: Tips Zum Selbstmord
Captain Beyond: Captain Beyond
Buffalo: Volcanic Rock
Flower Travelin’ Band: Satori
Pentagram: Relentless

Kill the Head Playlist

Kill the Head No Responses »

Jun 182010

My internet-radio show, Kill the Head, “airs” every Friday, 5 to 7:o0 p.m. (eastern), on Asheville Free Media.

Here’s the playlist for 06.18.2010.

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