Phoenix Matsuri Festival 2-24-2008

Ken Koshio & Shishin Japanese Folk & Rock & Roll

Jonathan Richman 11-30-07 Hollywood, CA

The Griefs-Throwing a Tempo Tantrum CD

After hearing the impressive single “Whenever You’re Around” on WFMU, it was great to find out in late 2006 that the Griefs finally released their debut long player. However then the questions quickly became “Where do I find it?” and “In which format?” A web search of the finer online shops, labels and distributors revealed it was a probably a vinyl exclusive for an unspecified time. Still I kept searching for a possible CD release. Scrolling through the Bomp Mailorder weekly update emails reminded me of some notable CD reissues of the Index, Mystery Meat and the Trees (The Christ Tree) albums, but there was nothing on the Griefs. For a contemporary release, this provided one of the more challenging treasure hunts. At a certain point, I almost even considered the old style special order act of calling upon record stores like Freakbeat or Amoeba. Even the band’s label (Spoonful) did not have any information regarding a CD on their well designed website. This simply meant I had to venture into the freeze ‘n’ crash interface of Myspace. Once there, abundant information regarding record release shows and the honor of opening for Mary Weiss and the Reigning Sound surfaced to the screen. Thankfully here in summer 2007, the CD has arrived to simply clear and shake things up!

The unsung band’s record quickly ascends on the opening song “All Over Again” with its radiant vocals stacked over charging guitars. However, the landing gear quickly folds out as the band lands back on the chorus and it’s the familiar workaday word: “Where everything looks so familiar.” The song testifies in Kinks-ian fashion to the notion (or realization) that each day does not bring advancement, but one gets caught up in the unsparing cycle of “The same mistakes/All over again” and then back ‘round to the lament of “Seems Like I’m starting where I already been.” Next, “Bored Outta my Gourd” (under the guise and burden of a bad relationship) seemingly decries a draining workaday life filled with a predominance of reaction, and barriers to action with its megaphone vocals and searing guitars. A reprieve from the conflictions thankfully comes with the fluttering and concise sounds of “They're Trying to Tell Me Something” that pledges allegiance to such melodic Dutch 60’s bands as the Outsiders, the Jay Jays and the Sandy Coast. However, when the inspired song reaches its brilliant zenith point it echoes the U.S. sounds of the Knaves. Here, Eric Stein proclaims: “When the wind sweeps through the Branches” recalling the wishful bridge in “Away” by the aforementioned Chicago band. “It was Another Time” brings a brawny flair and big spirit to the proceedings with its Nordic stomp that tromps through the highlands in the same territory of the Wildebeests.

The catchy, yet enduring “Whenever You’re Around” dashes out of speakers with the most deceptively simple and on-target songwriting sensibility not since heard since the KO and the Knockouts debut record. The band almost pulls off the swirling 5D-Byrds sounds intertwined with Something Else Kinks-isms of "Where My Feet Once on the Ground” but the convergence is a little too busy and cluttered. (The ‘66 sounds of the Byrds and Kinks were busy enough on their own.) They fare better with the straightforward ‘60s Pacific Northwest barrage as heard on their sonic serration of “Eur Nuthin” that would sound right at home over loudspeakers at a trampled brown grass, dime-toss and beer-tent midway. Furthermore, the impact and intensity of this pounder expresses the forces converging to overturn the aforementioned intra-personal riots and brings one back to observing the surrounding spectacle.

One of the highlights on the outer edges of the disc, “Come and Go” features a takeover by an exceptional skeletal guitar solo that brings to mind similar economically-minded efforts of the Subsonics while plaintively speaking volumes. The Griefs prevail at converging mod-pop and freakbeat which is so tough for many bands to convincingly pull off--west of the Embrooks. The album concludes on a high tide with “Know It True.” Starting off with some royal riffing and the declarations of “I’ve been trying so long," the final song connects to a compelling Chisel-like middle-eight which reprises the nearness motif with the proclamation of “Something changes when you’re near” before circling back to assaying the situation.

The band truly excels at the arrangements and bridges that connect and stabilize both rough ‘n’ tumble songs and the melodic gems like the red & yellow pieces of a Bridg-It game. These conductive bridges offer distinction and a cohesiveness that takes these songs far from monochromatic flatness and into full dimensionality. On a production note, the songs and sounds would have been better served in my personal opinion by say Matthew Smith and his charactericstic lavish reverb and stereo action. Some may hear this band as a surprise from the side, however it sounds to me like a long–awaited breakout album of a band ready for further breakthroughs.

Hoodoo Gurus-Los Angeles-3-28-2007

Making things with vibrant light in Daja, Taiwan

Think of the Good Times: The Tucson ‘60s Sound

The wait is over! After years of Bacchus Archives promising to offer this collection in the CD format, the label has really delivered the piñata’s prizes by extending the range of the original LP to make this a sweeping retrospective of the Tucson ’60 scene and sound. Unlike most ‘60s, comps which usually focus in on particular styles/years, this one boldly round-ups an entire decade of music from the old pueblo of Tucson. To introduce the wide-spectrum of sound, influenced by an untranslatable regional culture along with the best elements happening in Los Angeles and London during that decade, the disc opens with a KTKT “teen dance” radio promo (which also exemplifies the loving detail the label invested into this amended re-issue). Musically, the record starts with some sharper than a cactus instrumentals branded with twang and cavernous echo reflecting Eddy/Hazlewood’s pioneering production up in Phoenix. The standout instrumental is the Travelers’ “Spanish Moon” which conjures up finding solace between the Shadows under the glow of TraveLodge’s “Sleepwalk’n” Bear sign (on Speedway Blvd.) after the harsh glare of the sun has finally set under a purple streaked Southwestern sky. “Baby Do” makes me wonder if the Woggles were once known as the Intruders before taking a quantum leap from Arizona 1963 to Atlanta circa now. Conversely, “Then I Know” finds the Intruders in confusion with love and in concord with the Beau Brummels and the Zombies (or Phoenix’s Phil and the Frantics). I wondered how the driving “Dark Side” by the Reason Why drifted from the discerning consideration of the “Fuzz, Flaykes and Shakes” series compiler Tony Sanchez, until reading the lavish liner which explains this Cooper State colossus was previously never released. Other highlights are the bougainvillea entangled psych-pop of “309” by Butterscotch, the moving Davies directness of the Quinstrels’ “I’ve Got a Girl” and the pronounced and propulsive drumming found in the Sot Weed Factor (who really resemble the Missing Links from the other down under). Coincidently, Tucson High’s Missing Links finish the disc by turning in a murky cover of the Zombies’ “You Make Me Feel” loaded with gray locker lament. Commendably, Bacchus Archives have reopened the wrought iron gates to a wide-open musical frontier town during an incredibly evoking era. It’s time to hear and “Think of the Good Times” once again. (Dionysus Records)

The Untamed Youth-Major Chaos

The Untamed Youth were the essential link between the mid-‘80s “Summer of Fuzz” 2nd wave garage barrage and the current garage high tide. While many mid-‘80s garage revival bands fell into the pattern of their forebears and bottomed out with a heavier sludgy sound by decade’s end, the Untamed Youth slogged it out on the highways and low-profile stages by bringing back the lost canons and firing its own multi-directional cannon--aimed anywhere between the feral ‘50s through the monumental mid-sixties garage battle grounds. They left a lasting impact which spans from the gritty lo-fi budget rock like the Mummies, over surf like the Phantom Surfers to the harmonic-pop side stacked by Fortune & Maltese. This compilation successfully corrals their rarities, singles and their bigger than a hearse sense of fun (as heard on the closing interview track). With Deke Dickerson’s stellar “Golden Stated Missour-ahh” voice and ace guitar playing on the forefront, the Bobby Fuller Four-ish “Don Stole My Girl” and the haunting “Surfin Man” confirm why this band will always be considered standouts in a now crowded and more diverse garage. They were also renowned for bringing back the non-obvious, yet not too arcane vintage covers with their “Blue Ribbon” renditions of Every Mother’s Son’s “Come on Down to My Boat,” the Camaro promotional song “SS 396” by Paul Revere and the Raiders and the Remains’ remarkable regional hit “Don’t Look Back.” Plied from a Gearhead Magazine insert, “My General Lee” is like a musical funny car that revs up, lifts up a lyric about Enos and releases its parachute complete with its trademark musical horn which sends me right back to Friday Night 1980. My only complaint is the lack of documentation regarding these recordings, but maybe that’s a mark of this band--which knows when it comes to the “Midnight Hour,” “Little Latin Lupe Lu” was never made or meant to be analyzed. (Double Crown)

Wendy & Bonnie-Genesis

Upon first sight, I thought this reissue was being geared towards the “Incredibly Strange Music” listening audience. Into the initial spin, I imagined this organic record washing up on Stereolab’s shores about a decade ago. (The liner notes do reveal that this been a favorite of ‘lab’s guitarist Tim Gane.) Further listens revealed new aspects, dimensions and layers resulting in an entrancing and enduring sound which transcends any novelty and/or collector-cult factors. This is competent lite psych soft pop with striking female harmonies floating over a musical foundation built by consummate jazz players. The arrangements are accomplished and are most akin to the “Astrud Gilberto Album” or moments of Boettcher’s Eternity’s Children. The bright, breezy and vibrant “It’s What’s Really Happening” sounds like it should have been a 1969 Top 40 AM hit on an illuminated flip-number clock radio, while “5 O’Clock in the Morning” has a chilling contrast of eeriness. The demos are so intimate they are like looking through a sliding glass door into the intangible levels of unhindered creativity. Wendy & Bonnie reveal a wise beyond their years knowingness in “Conventional Man” balanced with a youthful perspective of wonderment found in a San Francisco bicycle ride under the local color and tint of the “December Sun.” “Genesis” successfully captures the innate characteristics of an enigmatic time/place with brilliant musicianship and two sisters who expand the songs to the rarified realms of timeless beauty in the larger context. (Sundazed)

The Holy Ghost Reception Committee:# 9-The Collected Works

Just when I thought “Mass in F Minor” by Electric Prunes (aka David Axelrod) was the only Catholic concept album of the sixties, Hallucinations CDs reissues the beyond rare “Songs for Liturgical Worship” from 1967 and 1969’s “The Torchbearers” albums on one CD. (Both albums sound one to two years musically behind their original issue years.) With a trebly thin and chiming electric guitar strumming stark, yet endearing folk rock, “Songs for Liturgical Worship” sounds strikingly similar to the minimalist moments of “Volume One” by the West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, psychedelic embellishments which echo “CQ” by the Outsiders, the hushed shadings of the Velvet Underground, along with some jangly Byrds-ish guitars and appropriate ringing bells characterize the sound of “The Torchbearers.” In contrast to those “Electric Prunes” staying in the sacred stained glass confines of the cathedral, HGRC: #9 were out in the secular sixties streets concerned about plight of the displaced, downtrodden and also the soulless plastic materialism of the suburbs. While the Kinks in “Well Respected Man” and the Turtles in “Suburbia” mocked and protested the similar hypocrisies of the problematic socio-economic structures and systems, HGRC: #9 called for the noble solutions of direct political activism and working for social justice. Indeed, this approach could had easily lead to a didactic and imposing self-righteousness, however the band simply offered new trails up a mountain paralleling the previous populist paths of the Jesuits and radical priest Daniel Berrigan (and very far above the corruption of the concealed institutional religious church). Overall, the recording captures an authentic somberness, world weariness and mournful sadness descending upon a generation trying to make sense of it all in an era scarred by the assignation of JFK, the maelstrom of the Vietnam War, burning cities/rivers, burnt-out lives and the impeding fate of MLK. With the current scandals and complacent reaction of the institutional church, severe capitalism running rampant, high unemployment and the perennial warfare, these hallowed hymns still offer relevant hope and mercy for a better world. (Void Records)

Chuck Perrin :44 of Love

“I think that there’s something about the character of California and the West Coast that has encouraged people with new and different ways of looking at stuff. Obviously, it’s not the only place where that kind of innovation takes place, but it does seem to be conducive to people who have a different way of looking at things."

Tony Asher (lyricist who collaborated with Brian Wilson on the 1966 masterpiece Pet Sounds. Quotation taken from the book Smile: The Story of Brian Wilson’s Lost Masterpiece by Domenic Priore.)
In shadow of this, maintaining one’s original visions can be an ardent ordeal in an area where creativity, happenstance and improvisation seems frequently contrived, calibrated and tied to a cost. Fortunately, between and beyond the congested Southern California-land of unnecessary push and content providers, an untold number of iconoclastic artists continue to work along the peripheries to actualize their original conceptions in an authentic spirit and tradition of pioneering exploration. However endangered, these artists keep forging beyond the convenient paths of least resistance and make their own subterranean sidetracks. Throughout his lifelong involvement in music, Chuck Perrin has remained true to his muse and moods and come to exemplify a California dreamer who has been a continual source of providing something better. From his formative days in the Illinois heartland to now, Perrin has offered others welcoming physical spaces and ameliorating sounds where music can transcend the pettiness and weariness for all those who gravitate towards such natural notions.

These same enlightened concepts can be found in his latest words, sounds and vision on :44 of Love. However, the opening song “I Gotta Have You” seems a little too close to the overwrought dentist office soft rock of Don Henley, Mark Cohn and Bruce Hornsby & the Range for my tastes (which have been largely informed by Rod McKuen when it comes to a symbiosis of poetry and music). Also, the drum machine abates a level of warmness needed for a welcoming song. This adult contemporary album then gets on digital track with the low-key rendering of Bob Marley’s “Turn Your Lights Down Low” capped off by a tenor saxophone solo. His treatment of Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” resonates with solid masculine tenderness, ascending vocals and a direct come-on not heard on the original. The song then stretches out on blankets of sound furnished by a slew of guest musicians with a Moog melding with a Hammond B-3 that provides the most abundance of warmth and comfort. These opening songs display both Perrin’s pronounced interests in soulful-R&B along with his exposure and openness to a wide assortment of sounds that come with him being a prime-mover behind the all-ages performance space of Dizzy’s in San Diego.

Next, Perrin translates a Jacques Prévert poem and transforms a serene still life into passionate fauvism in the song “Alicante.” The song is also a nod to his influential ramblings in 1966 France (while his bandmates/classmates in the Shaggs were shaking down the thunder at Notre Dame and laying down tracks in Chicago that would comprise the rarified and highly-sought garage/frat-rock/folk-rock long-player Wink). “Balance” is an appropriate title of a song that sooths with its pedal steel guitar stretching out over the shifting sands of the Mohave Desert, while the coinciding lyrics express the graceful sweep & beauty of a lover’s back. Through songs like this, Perrin emanates balance in a world that has seemingly long knocked itself out of balance (if a glance at the continual conflict and strife projected by the internet news is any kind of indication). His cosmopolitan leanings float to the surface on “A Letter Home” with its soft afternoon jazz-chorded bossa nova bounce awash in light and sunny resonance. Perrin still appreciates, expresses and reminds us presence of California’ s indigenous golden light and inextinguishable inspiration that still has the possibilities to surmount the real and imagined blockades of workaday life.

Perrin then proves more nimble than a 1978 Kurt Thomas and the album deftly pulls a maneuver from ‘70s soul-ish R&B to the ‘60s-based crystalline folk that seeks and sometimes finds the confluence between earthly matters and the celestial. In “Time Fades Away,” Perrin is able to convey a wide-eye wonder and awe that harkens back to the hallowed collaborative efforts (with his sister Mary) of yore (that have been recently restored and reissued by Rev-ola under the titles The Last Word and Life is a Stream). Also, in “Time Fades Away” Perrin sings with the authority of a man who has remained a steadfast romantic and artist in a world time that has seem to have figuratively turned over the message of Robert Indiana’s Love sculptures and have regulated reflection to Folgers Coffee commercials. (Incidentally, underneath this song’s delightful flute intro and fade, it sounds like someone tapping the fire-button of the classic video game Galaga to approximate the singing of early birds.)

When Perrin wanders back to his troubadour roots is when the musical alchemy takes place and time moves into timelessness and matter transcends to spirit. His inclinations towards the metaphysical, the transcendental and other destinations unknown surfaces in the concluding song “Minor Blue Surcease.” Here Perrin searches for the essences of life and sweeps through both inner-depths of consciousness and the outer reaches of thought like Mel Fisher once hunted for shipwrecked treasures. It also continues one of Perrin’s ongoing themes of the heightened awareness gained by leaving the familiar behind as a suspending pedal steel guitar vanishes out into the vast Pacific skies. When all is said and done, :44 of Love is Perrin’s latest foray in building artistic monuments that maps his continual unfolding explorations through the interior frontiers of the soul and the connected paths leading to new vistas of love.

San Pedro