Exploded View – Exploded View (Sacred Bones)

Exploded View are a new band, but you might know its members from other projects. Singer Annika Henderson has released music as Anika on Geoff Barrow’s Invada imprint, and her Mexican-based band is Martin Thulin, who’s produced Crocodiles; Hugo Quezada from the band Robota; and Hector Melgarejo, who plays with Jessy Bulbo. Together they’ve made an exciting debut album of songs that were improvised without any overdubs, only using first takes. That may have you imagining an album of messy jamming splattered around half-formed ideas, but that’s not the case. In fact, I heard the album several times before learning about the band’s recording techniques, and never suspected anything out of the ordinary. They avoid succumbing to the pitfalls of improvisation by valuing mood and economical playing over displays of flashy technique. It’s hard for the 1-2 note spacey dub grooves of “Lost Illusions”, “Call On The Gods” and “Killjoy” not to remind you of Can, but I also hear the influence of Silver Apples and Throbbing Gristle’s proto-electronica bleeps and bloops, and hints of No Wave in the occasional metal-scraping guitar tones. The music is great, but Annika Henderson’s performance behind the microphone is equally interesting, mixing the mystical wisp of Damo Suzuki with Nico’s Germanic intonations. It’s a malleable voice too, guiding listeners through lighthearted dub-disco (“Orlando”) just as well as a chilling condemnation of people who remain silent against the violence of war (“Larks Decending”). This is heady, inventive stuff (the rhythmic robotic mumbling on “Call On The Gods” is literally something I’ve never heard before) and as of today (8/13) it’s the best debut of 2016.

State Records – Three Singles (State Records)

I recently received three limited-run singles from State Records…and here’s reviews of all three:

The Embrooks: Nightmare / Helen

I’d lost track of The Embrooks after being unimpressed by their 2000 album, Separations, but after a 10-year hiatus the UK trio are back in business with this new two-song single, and much to my surprise, it smokes. “Nightmare” is a speedy garage rocker, which is part Who/Creation freakbeat, and part high-energy Detroit proto-punk. A new recording of their old song “Helen” is thankfully more of the same hard-hitting stuff, with a slightly poppier feel and some stinging guitar fuzz slathered all over the back half. Everyone in the band sounds like they’re giving it their all on these songs, but Lois Tozzer deserves accolades for attacking her drums a bit like a young Keith Moon. Hopefully this single leads to more new material.

Thee Jezebels: Black Book / Cried Over You

UK trio Thee Jezebels’ debut 45 is four minutes of fuzzed up garage rock, the same way it was played fifty years ago, but with a pinky dipped into early punk rock. Both songs are rudimentary, and the recording is pretty lo-fi, but who cares? You can say the same thing about early-Kinks, Link Wray and Billy Childish, and they’re great. The key here is fun, and it sounds like Thee Jezebels are having a blast.

The Missing Souls: Sweet, Sweet Sadie / The Alligator

The Missing Souls are a French quartet with an album and some singles to their name, despite forming only two years ago. Their latest 45 is as perfect a recreation of garden variety mid-’60s garage rock bands as their name is. The A-side cover of The Teardrops’ “Sweet, Sweet, Sadie” has all the fuzz guitars, organs and guitar rave-ups you could possibly want. It’s cool, but I prefer the B-side cover of “The Alligator” by The Us Four. The guitars get a little crazier, the groove is a little stronger, and the cheap-o recording sounds just about right. Oh, and the alligator in question is a type of dance of course! Neither song will make you smarter, but I bet they can kick a party into overdrive.

Mick Harvey – Delirium Tremens (Mute)

A few years back I posted a positive review of a reissue of Mick Harvey’s mid-’90s Serge Gainsbourg covers albums – Intoxicated Man and Pink Elephants – and now I have to praise it again since its release inspired Harvey to revisit the concept almost two decades later and record the songs that would become Delirium Tremens. The concept of Harvey recording English translations of Gainsbourg’s songs hasn’t changed, however Delirium Tremens exists in an entirely different cultural context. Back in the ’90s these albums were like a public service for music geeks since Gainsbourg’s albums were hard to find, and even if you snagged one you didn’t know what he was saying unless you spoke French. Of course, since then the internet has made everything readily available, so Delirium Tremens is now simply one good performer covering the songs of another. That it begins with a mid-70s obscurity called “The Man With The Cabbage Head” (or “L’homme a Tete De Chou”) tells you right off the bat you’re not gonna hear Gainsbourg’s best known material. Harvey’s already recorded most of those songs anyway, so instead he digs beneath the surface to find gold in obscurities. He does just that with a set of largely unfamiliar songs that showcase his natural fit as a Gainsbourg interpreter as well as the arranging skills he’s honed over decades working with Nick Cave, PJ Harvey and his own solo projects. “Coffee Colour” and “Deadly Tedium” are both jazz cabaret, with witty lyrics and inventive playing from an interesting cast of backing musicians. “I Envisage” is a different beast altogether, with a none-more-black, almost Joy Division-like, performance that matches the bleak visions of Gainsbourg’s lyrics perfectly. “SS C’est Bon” is a Holocaust-era black comedy with rapid-fire lyrics that are hard to understand amidst the chaotic music, but worth looking up for a lesser-heard example of Gainsbourg’s warped genius. The album ends with Harvey and Katey Beale doing a stunning version of “The Decadance” which isn’t that far removed from the original, but is beautifully arranged all the same. It’s a perfect ending to a great album, and an exciting look ahead to Harvey’s fourth album of Gainsbourg covers – focusing on his work with female singers – planned for later this year.

My Damage: The Story of a Punk Rock Survivor by Keith Morris and Jim Ruland (Da Capo Press)

Keith Morris isn’t the kind of guy you expect to write an autobiography. The introspection and sheer volume of commitment needed to recap sixty-plus years of living didn’t seem possible from a guy best known for writing 50-second songs about getting fucked up and breaking stuff. However, he and co-writer Jim Ruland have done the work, and the resulting book is a joy. Although Keith’s best-known for fronting Black Flag and The Circle Jerks in the late-’70s and early-’80s, their stories are already so well-documented elsewhere that it’s Morris’ life before and after that era I found the most interesting. He paints a vivid portrait of his participation in ’70s beach-burnout culture, ’80s Hollywood glitz’n’glamour (including parties with Motley Crue and a crack-smoking session with David Lee Roth!) and the ’90s alternative rock explosion, and how all those things shaped the man he is today. It’s especially interesting to hear the Morris of today – sober, wiser, moral – reflect back on his wild years, and he’s got a good sense of humor about it all now that it’s in his rear-view mirror. My Damage isn’t just a collection of drink and drug stories though. Morris also lets readers in on the hard times he’s endured, from career lulls, battles with diabetes and, worst of all, business dealings with Greg Ginn. Unfortunately My Damage has no passages about how a white guy in his sixties maintains such lengthy dreadlocks – a missed opportunity in my opinion. However, the book confirms what Keith Morris’ appearances in other media have led me to believe: he’s a funny and insightful guy who’s lived an interesting life, which makes for an excellent book.

Sick On You by Andrew Matheson (Blue Rider Press)

It’s hard to believe someone agreed to publish a book on The Hollywood Brats, considering the band’s sole album – a 1974 glammy proto-punk classic – was only released in Norway, where it sold just 563 copies. Despite their obscurity, the book exists, and it’s a great read to boot. Author, and Brats singer, Andrew Matheson never wrote a book before, yet he tackled Sick On You without a cowriter. Despite his inexperience, he’s got an immediately enjoyable writing voice – part self-deprecating comedian, part arrogant rock-star and part street urchin – and a ton of great stories about the highs and lows of his almost single-minded attempts at getting a flamboyant Stones/Kinks circa-’67-meets-glam band off the ground in dull and depressing early-’70s England. His wild tales include dodgy gigs, even dodgier living situations, mafia-owned record labels, punch-outs with Freddie Mercury…and, like his run-in with Freddie Mercury, he pull no punches. He’ll tell you exactly what he thinks at all times, even when his opinions fly in the face of accepted wisdom. Unfortunately those opinions occasionally have him engaging in cheap ethnic stereotyping that rubs you the wrong way. Cut those parts out (and boy, I wish you could) and he’s got a great book on his hands – it’s no wonder Mojo Magazine named it their 2015 Book Of The Year. I bet it would make a great movie too.


The Yardbirds – Live At The BBC (Repertoire Records)

The Yardbirds’ Live At The BBC has everything you expect from an album of 1960s BBC sessions: songs that stick closely to the familiar versions from albums and singles, awkward interviews with terminally unhip BBC announcers, and some exclusive songs you can’t hear anywhere else. The majority of these tracks are from Jeff Beck’s tenure as lead guitarist, two sessions come from the Jimmy Page era (he rips off a great solo on “Think About It”), and there’s nothing from the Eric Clapton years, as he left just prior to their first session. Also missing are any songs from the brief period when Beck and Page both played guitar in the band. Regardless of who was in the band at any given session, The Yardbirds turn in great performances, and the audio is sourced from well-preserved tapes, which is not always the case for archival BBC releases. The songs they never released outside of BBC are a mixed bag.  “Hang On Sloopy” isn’t a particularly inspired cover, though it’s interesting to hear The Yardbirds tackle such a light-hearted tune. Bob Dylan’s “Most Likely You’ll Go Your Way (And I’ll Go Mine)” is a better fit, and if singer Keith Relf isn’t exactly a convincing surrogate for Dylan’s lyrics, at least the band attack the music well. Lastly, “Love Me Like I Love You” is an original tune from a June 1965 session they never released elsewhere. It’s a relatively boring throwback to the band’s poppy British Invasion origins, but with a killer Jeff Beck solo that saves the day. Though it’s not ideal for casual fans, The Yardbirds faithful will love The BBC Sessions, and even if you’ve bought previous versions, the expanded tracklist and improved audio make this new edition the one to own.

The Zombies – The BBC Sessions (Varese Vintage)

The Zombies were the first band to officially release material recorded at the BBC when the British broadcasters opened up their archives in 1985. They released these sessions again in 1998 as part of the Zombie Heaven boxset, and here they are once more, now a two-disc set with a few previously unreleased recordings. Like their peers, The Zombies’ BBC visits were a chance to plug their hits, and to play some exclusive material that hadn’t been released elsewhere. They recorded versions of their early hits “She’s Not There” and “Tell Her No” (the latter at three different sessions), and a host of other effervescent Zombies originals that should have been hits, like “You Make Me Feel Good”, “If It Don’t Work Out” and “Just Out Of Reach”. Well-done covers of The Impressions, The Isley Brothers, The Supremes, Isaac Hayes, The Four Tops and Billy Stewart make a strong case for The Zombies as a great white soul band, and they’re also comfortable playing blues (“Wee Baby Blues”), rockabilly (“Rip It Up”) and pop (a stunning cover of “The Look Of Love”). Though The BBC Radio Sessions has an embarrassment of great songs and performances (and those goofy BBC interviews), some of the sessions were only available from secondary sources, so the sound is sometimes compromised (especially on their cover of “Sitting In The Park”). Also, there’s no material from the best Zombies album, Odessey and Oracle, though it’s nobody’s fault since the band broke up before it was released in 1968, and didn’t play it live until decades later. Even with those imperfections, The BBC Sessions has more than enough great stuff for me to recommend it.