CD Odyssey Disc 1938: Gang of Four

Welcome back to the CD Odyssey, where the luck of the draw brings us back to the late seventies.

Disc 1938 is… …entertainment!

Artist: Gang of Four

Year of Release: 1979

What’s up with the Cover? This cowboy looks like an untrustworthy creep, and the three panel “push in” effect doubles down on that feeling of foreboding.

Lest you think it is all a misunderstanding or a trick of the frame, Gang of Four has included subtitles that confirm beyond any shadow of a doubt that this cowboy is, in fact, a creep of the highest order.

How I Came To Know It: I read about this record on a “best albums” list on some music magazine site. I gave it a listen just to see what all the fuss was about and was hooked.

How It Stacks Up: This is my only Gang of Four album (so far) so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 5 stars

To describe Gang of Four’s album as “entertainment” would be accurate to the record’s title but would fall well short of just how revelatory an experience it is. Entertainment ain’t the half of it.

“entertainment!” is a record that transforms the raucous protest of punk rock into danceable party music, all while not losing an iota of edge. It is a leading edge record of post-punk. Maybe not the first ever but arguably the funkiest.

From the opening notes of “Ether” crashing around with a deliberate awkwardness, you know you are going to be treated to sounds that challenge your understanding of rhythm all while still making some of the grooviest beats this side of Motown.

I wanted to just go on about Dave Allen’s bass riffs, and I could write the whole review about just how awesome those are. The problem is that every member of the aptly named Gang of Four represents an equal part of what makes this record leap out at you. There are no weak spots. Hugo Burnham’s drums? Insistent and aggressive. Andy Gill’s guitar? Alternatively gritty as hell and then loaded with sway and snap a moment later.

The vocals (mostly Jon King, with Gill featured on plenty of tracks) are blurts of manic energy, filled with unpleasant truths, a restlessness that lies somewhere between the political musing of the Clash and the stoned “I’m bored” vibe of the Ramones. The refrain in “Glass” sums up the experience:

“I’m so restless (I’m bored as a cat)”

These lads are so cool they can make restless boredom a good time.

Best of all, the production keeps all four elements even in the mix, each equally loud and competing for your attention. The sound is stark, with plenty of space, creating a delightful assault coming from all levels and directions.

The music’s pace leans forward into the pocket with a New Wave urgency, but with the dismissive snarl of a revolutionary. “entertainment!” sits in the heart of its own culture, simultaneously celebrating, judging, and taking the piss. The effect creates a breathlessness, the music giving you no time to contemplate outside of the moment, even as the lyrics echo evocative observations through your near-term memory.

It was all so bright and new, and I could feel the record’s innovations echoing through modern artists. The angry observations combined with creative beats made me think of Sleaford Mods, and the apocalyptic Goth-adjacent vision of some tracks reminded me of HMLTD. It feels like you are sitting at the wellspring of half a dozen musical styles, all spewing out at a frantic pace.

The final track on the original record, “Anthrax” is the record’s least accessible, starting with 90 seconds of droning guitar feedback and then some soupy soundscapes. Two sets of lyrics compete out of synch, one sung and one spoken, but lining up in unison for a half-line at the end of every other bar. None of this should work, but it all does. All that weirdness and excess could devolve into self-congratulatory tripe, but instead it draws you in and makes you dance, think, and then dance again.

The only thing I didn’t love about this record is that mine is a CD reissue with a gratuitous amount of bonus tracks (eight, to be exact). These don’t add a lot, but neither are they terrible. If I hadn’t heard the greatness of the original record immediately preceding them, I’d be giving them 4 stars all on their own.

As it is, there is no amount of bonus content that can deny the original record’s greatness.

Best tracks: All the original tracks, and some of the bonus stuff ain’t half bad either (Armalite Rifle is a favourite)

CD Odyssey Disc 1931: Shame

Welcome back to the CD Odyssey. The weather is getting nice where I live, and this next record was a welcome “take the top down” selection for those with convertibles. For those of you without convertibles, maybe you have a sunroof or something. Or just roll the windows down. Do you.

Disc 1931 is…Cutthroat

Artist: Shame

Year of Release: 2025

What’s up with the Cover? A man rides a motorcycle inside a Wall of Death, which is the name of that carnival structure that lets you ride a motorcycle or car sideways and trust to centrifugal force to prevent you from falling.

These things date back to the 1920s, and I remember Elvis rode in one of these in the 1964 movie Roustabout. Apparently they still exist, but I bet the legal disclaimer you have to sign nowadays is way more exhaustive.

How I Came To Know It: The boring way. I read a review and thought it sounded like it might be in my wheelhouse. Turns out, it was.

How It Stacks Up: Shame has released four studio albums, but I only have the one so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 4 stars

Wanna party with the disaffected kids, make fun of norms and dance when most people are sleeping? Then “Cutthroat” is a record with the vibe you need.

Shame is a British post-punk band that blend elements of eighties Goth, Lou Reed style punk rock and a little Blur/Gorillaz to make it all danceable. I sense they’re minor celebs in England but less so on this side of the Pond. As with all things, I could care less where it is popular – the test is, is it any good?

Yes, it is and while the record is a mix of solid club bangers and songs that could rightly be considered filler, even the filler is pretty fun for an afternoon drive with the convertible top down.

Things start solidly with the title track, which only vaguely relates to people who cut throats, and in no way relevant to the species of trout with the same name. It seems instead to be about people having fun with little regard for the consequences. The song cleverly straddles the line of how fun it is to do what you want, and how this can – when taken to the extreme – be selfish and empty. The extra layer of clever is how goddamn catchy it is, as you sing along to “why does it hurt to feel so numb?” but the more fervently you lean in and dance, the more ironic things get.

The band does a fine job of disaffection, with songs like “Cowards Around”, which is a long list of ‘cowards’ that is so expansive you are left thinking that it is the narrator with the problem. Sort of like that person who always has a problem with their boss, their friends, or the local barista. Where they don’t seem to realize the one common denominator in all their bad reactions is them. Again, the song lets the subtext linger beneath the surface of a tune that invites you to sing along with all the imagined grievances.

Most of the time, however, you’re just going to enjoy the groove, which is significant. Singer Charlie Steen (not Sheen, Steen) has a gift for phrasing, which is a critical component of songs that sit solidly in the pocket as much as these do. He also does a fine spoken word style approach on songs like “Coward’s Around” and “Lampiao” that is very “cool kid with hair in eyes tells story”.

“Lampiao” is based on a real-life Brazilian bandit from the early twentieth century, with the band bringing some Latin rhythms in, but converted to their own unique punk/groove vibe. While the way Steen (not Sheen) delivers his vocals here is more important than the actual words, I loved this section and how it paints the romanticized portrait of the bandit:

“The governor of the backlands
Sailor of the black sands
With a fillet knife and a strong hand”

Not every song has the same level of literary achievement, but even the boring ones make for good dance numbers. Late in the record “After Party” alerts us that there will be festivities after the show, and that’s the vibe of “Cutthroat” throughout. Listening makes you feel like you’re one of the cool counterculture kids, staying out later than you should, into the early hours of the morning where all the most interesting and dangerous things are bound to happen.

Writing a record that drives you to both carefree fun and the deeper ramifications of that kind of fun is not an easy space to occupy. Shame does a fine job of it and makes me keen to explore their back catalogue.

Best tracks: Cutthroat, Cowards Around, Nothing Better, Lampiao, After Party

CD Odyssey Disc 1889: Sleater-Kinney

Merry Christmas! I am writing this sitting in a pair of cream-coloured pajamas and a gold robe (both vintage), feeling quite decadent. I hope you are having an equally sumptuous and relaxed holiday. Perhaps as part of your routine you would like to enjoy a small dose of musical criticism. If so, consider this my Christmas gift to you.

Disc 1889 is… Dig Me Out

Artist: Sleater-Kinney

Year of Release: 1997

What’s up with the Cover? The band pays homage to the Kinks’ album, “The Kink Kontroversy” (thank you Internet, as I did not know this independently).

Rather than going on about that thing I learned without effort, let us reflect on the amateur photography of 1997. 1997 was relatively early for digital camera availability, so I suspect these were film photos that were developed.

The downside to film was that you only got about 20 photos, good or bad. As a result a lot of photos have the quality of the ones on this album cover, which look overexposed (no post-photo editing) and glary.

How I Came To Know It: I knew about Sleater-Kinney back in the day, but didn’t really dig into their music until later. I had a feeling I would like what I heard, and I was right. “Dig Me Out” was just one of a flurry of purchases I made in recent years to round out my collection of this awesome band.

How It Stacks Up: I have six Sleater-Kinney albums. I originally ranked 2019’s “The Center Won’t Hold” (Disc 1294) as #1 and reserved the #2 slot for “Dig Me Out”. But the truth is that the two records are both perfect, and so different from one another it is impossible to compare them. They are both #1, but I don’t allow this, so I am going to give “Dig Me Out” precedence and move it up to top slot.

Ratings: 5 stars

“Dig Me Out’s” immediate impact is a visceral one. This record shrieks at you with a defiant call from the peaks of rock and roll. This is music for scaring your mom and make your dad harrumph in disapproval (n.b. dad was also scared but harrumphed to mask his discomfort).

The vocal style is pure punk and the brassy back-throat snarl of Corin Tucker rings out like a war cry across a roiling plain of battle. Brownstein’s vocals are a calmer counterpunch to this battery, but no less emotive. Together, the pair sonically slap you until they’re sure you’re paying attention. Then they slap you one extra time because…rock and roll.

While the vocals are the easy access point, there is a LOT going on with “Dig Me Out”. The individual instruments, if played in isolation, would feel stark and incomplete. It’s the artful way the trio play together that creates something special. A couple of simple guitar riffs that mixed together create a layer of syncopation and aggression that let you know there is a lot more going on here than the chord or two of your average punk song.

Now insert Janet Weiss on drums, pounding out a panoply of beats that are sneaky creative, and you end up with a record that can be enjoyed for its technical excellence, its creative songwriting, or just for thrashing your hair around angrily when life irritates you.

A timely disclaimer amidst the hyperbole here. Life will still irritate you after the experience but a listen to “Dig Me Out” will make you feel better, if for no other reason than providing a voice and outlet for the irritation.

Like the music, the lyrics lead with the visceral, and then dig down into something more profound after they settle. The title track is born of a frustration so deep the singer wants to tear themselves out of their own skin.

Other songs are grounded in the wellspring of desire, drama, or even dance, with each expressed in the key of measured rage. On “Words and Guitar” the emotion is so overpowering all that can be expressed is words and guitar, rendered down to their Platonic ideals. Words and guitar are just words and guitar, and the music and delivery will tell you everything you need to know of their importance beyond that.

On “Little Babies”, Sleater-Kinney even bend old sixties pop forms to their will, twisting radio friendly arrangements and images of domesticity into something gritty and powerful.

“Dig Me Out” is like being buried in a fine ash. It catches in your throat, hot and gritty, but look a little further and you’ll see the source – an erupting volcano in the distance, all beautiful fury in shades of yellow, orange and red.

Great stuff from a great band that has changed their sound over the years but never stopped climbing the mountain of awesome. “Dig Me Out” is them at the peak.

Best tracks: All tracks

CD Odyssey Disc 1815: Amyl and the Sniffers

Once again we have an album hand-picked to match up with a concert review. This also happens to be – fun fact – the second Australian band in a row!

Disc 1815 is…Cartoon Darkness

Artist: Amyl and the Sniffers

Year of Release: 2024

What’s up with the Cover? The band, presumably responding to the photographer’s direction to “do something wacky!” Let’s see – how did everyone do… Guy on the left? Wearing socks and sandals. Horrible, but all too common in these troubled times. Middle guy – solid approximation of hanging in space. I imagine he had to pogo like that multiple times to land it just right. Kudos. Guy on the right? Looks like he’s in a seventies cop movie and getting ready to beat some information out of a perp.

And as for Amy Taylor – aka Amyl herself? Ye olde boob flash. As wacky camera moves go, it’s a classic.

How I Came To Know It: I discovered the band through my buddy Nick. This album was just me checking out their latest release when it came out.

How It Stacks Up: I have all three Amyl and Sniffers albums released so far. They just keep getting better, and “Cartoon Darkness” comes in at #1, supplanting “Comfort to Me” which was not easy. Here’s the full recap:

1. Cartoon Darkness: 5 stars (reviewed right here)
2. Comfort to Me: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 1628)
3. Self-Titled: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1683)

Ratings: 5 stars

“Cartoon Darkness” is the best album of 2024. After I gave 2021’s “Comfort to Me” five-stars that was a tough statement to live up to but along comes “Cartoon Darkness” to elbow its way to the front of the line.

“Cartoon Darkness” manages to celebrate every facet of rock and roll, and still turn everything the colour punk. Previous Amyl and the Sniffers records have been more visceral and raw, but the amazing feat achieved here is to lose exactly none of their signature snap and snarl and still add new ways to bite you.

The band is savvy enough to start with some of the purest of the punk stuff. “Jerkin’” is a song that features Amy Taylor spewing a litany of insults to lame assholes the world over, who are left with nothing to do but pull their own puds in the shadow of her awesomeness. If that last sentence made you uncomfortable then you should definitely not listen to this song, because I was being positively euphemistic to how Amy tells it. If, however, you don’t mind graphic imagery that is the point and then some, then this is punk rock goes, this is grade A+ stuff.

The album also knocks out some great guitar riffs, as the Sniffers show that punk rock can be tight and well played and still sound nasty. Songs like “Bikini” take coy sexual notions and supercharge them with aggression, turning the male gaze back on itself so hard it’ll give you a slap.

Not unlike the last album I reviewed by Camp Cope, we once again have some great expositions on men behaving badly. “U Should Not Be Doing That” is about women staying faithful while their jerk boyfriends make bad decisions. Amy’s got no time for the double standard and this song makes it clear that when she gets home from tour, you should be packed and gone. She’s done the work, and the upshot is, you’re done.

That’s a few of the punkiest tunes on the record, by Amyl and the Sniffers show range on “Cartoon Darkness” with the melancholy “Big Dreams”, that is a slow and swaying mood piece that would be at home on a nineties grunge record.

They drop a guitar riff that demands horns in the air on “Doing in My Head” before breaking it down into a downward spiral of the harshest mosh tune imaginable. All that up high/down low combo takes a bit longer to roll out, and at 3:00 this is one of the record’s longest songs.

That’s right, Amyl and the Sniffers know that punk rock done right, gets in, throws some fists about, and then gets out and onto the next song. The sheer energy of jumping from one great track to the next – each different, but each more furious than the last – is liberating and energizing. The record is over and all you want to do is play it again.

Along the way, you’ll feel a little Black Sabbath, a little Black Flag and a lot of black humour, and each time you think “they can’t add that in here and make it work,” they do.

The album’s final song is the tongue-in-cheek (but still clench-fisted) “Me and the Girls,” a song about a girls’ day out at the airport. Drunk. Musically this song features a guitar riff that is the confluence of dancing, driving, and fighting, and just when you think this modern masterpiece can’t add one more sound and get away with it there it is – some Peter Frampton style talk box. And yes, this also works.

Best tracks: all tracks

The Concert: March 26 at the PNE Forum, Vancouver

For the second time in a month, Sheila and I found ourselves sufficiently motivated to fly to Vancouver to see a show. Before the show we had dinner at the awesome heavy metal/punk inspired restaurant “Jackalopes” which I heartily recommend. Good food, good service, great ambience.

The concert location this time was also in East Van but in a venue many times larger than the Biltmore – the PNE Forum.

The Forum is an old but grand building Built in 1931 it holds about 4,000 concert-goers. This is about four times as many as the Commodore Ballroom holds, which is critical, because Amyl and the Sniffers have apparently “blown up” as they say in show biz, and had the event moved to the Forum when the Commodore could not accommodate demand.

And so, on an overcast but pleasant Wednesday evening we found ourselves outside the majestic Forum, its wall lighting artfully showing off its art deco archictecture. She’s an aging beauty, but a beauty all the same.

Sheer Mag

The opening act was Philadelphia hard rock band Sheer Mag. I was pretty excited about this, as I have been a fan of the band since 2017 (I reviewed “Need to Feel Your Love”, their album from that year, back at Disc 1309).

Despite my love for their studio records, I was a little disappointed in the live show.

Things were off to an optimistic start. The band is a five-piece and they lean into to their driving, crunchy rock and roll with intent. Lead singer Tina Halladay is one of my favourite band leaders, but the energy of the performance, while honest, didn’t reach down and lift the crowd up like you have to do in a bigger venue. As one of our party accurately noted, the room felt a bit big for them.

I will admit that part of this was sound quality. Openers often suffer from a bit of mud in the production – the result of all the effort going into the headliner’s needs. Also, at a punk rock show I use ear plugs to save my hearing. I don’t put them all the way in – I want the crunch – but it can take me a few songs to figure out just where I need them to feel the dynamics of the music and avoid permanent damage. I hadn’t perfected that until the last couple songs in Sheer Mag’s set. That’s on me.

They worked their way up into songs I knew and loved, but ended with a fairly average cover of Slade’s “C’Mon Feel the Noize”. Not terrible, but not enough to win me over.

As you can see from the photo, their stage had a bunch of giant white dice props piled about the place. At the end of the show they saucily knocked one pillar over. While this action was very punk rock, it left me just wanting MORE dice-knocking action. Alas, it never happened, and the show ended as it began, with just a tap-tap of violent intent where I wanted a few hammer-swings’ worth.

Amyl and the Sniffers

After a bit of a lengthy sound check, Amyl and the Sniffers invaded the stage.

I say invaded, because it accurately describes the whirlwind of fury and glory that is frontwoman Amy Taylor.

Taylor is a force of nature. Wearing nothing but a bikini top and short shorts she stands 5’4” but holds the presence of a 12 foot tall goddess in full battle armour. Yes Taylor pranced and danced around, but it was very clear it was for her benefit, not because she was pandering to some external sensibility to “perform”. She doesn’t perform so much as she unleashes her creative energy, and lets the audience hold on for the ride.

It is hard to describe the charisma that rolls off Taylor in waves. I felt it hit me like the front edge of the hurricane before she even sang a note, and the gale force only intensified once the songs started. I immediately felt in the presence of greatness. Taylor has the visceral don’t-give-a-fuck attitude of Wendy O. Williams combined with the natural showmanship of a pop diva.

Fortunately, the band has the musical talent to back all that up. The songs were crisp, fast, and ferocious and since most of them are only three minutes long at most the band was able to play a lot of them. If there was a favourite of mine from any of the three records I didn’t hear, I can’t think of it right now.

Highlights included old faves like “Knifey”, “GFY” and “Security” and newer singles like “Jerkin’”, “Tiny Bikini” and “Me and the Girls”. These weren’t only favourites because I love these songs so much – they were played exceptionally, infused with all the force and presence they require.

The sound was definitely fully recovered, so the lengthy sound check paid off as well.

The crowd at the show was also a delight. Mostly (but not exclusively) under 35, there were plenty of folks that were true devotees to the punk aesthetic, making for great people watching in between sets. Everyone was well behaved, but in the good “it is still OK to shove each other in the mosh pit” kind of way.

Full marks to the merch table as well, which was fast and efficient, with plenty of awesome selections. I got a shirt for both bands (hey, just because I didn’t love the Sheer Mag portion of the show doesn’t mean I don’t still love the band)

As for Amyl and the Sniffers – I would see them again in a heartbeat. I just worry that at this pace the next time will be at a venue even larger than the Forum. I have no doubt they’ll be able to fill the room with energy just as effectively.

CD Odyssey Disc 1791 and 1792: The Paranoid Style

Today we get a two for one review, with a full-length album by the Paranoid Style and then an EP they released the following year. The total is only 16 items and 46 songs, so when I downloaded them through Bandcamp it was a natural fit to turn them into a single listen.

While the listen was combined, I’m still listing them as separate entries. Rules are rules.

Disc 1791 is…Rolling Disclosure

Disc 1792 is…Underworld USA (EP)

Artist: The Paranoid Style

Year of Release: 2016 (Rolling Disclosure) and 2017 (Underworld USA)

What’s up with the Cover? Lead singer Elizabeth Nelson likes sitting down. There is really no occasion that doesn’t call for a good sit down.

Reading a book in the middle of some railroad tracks? Best done sitting – just remember to bring a folding chair; railroad ties can be dirty, and you wore that nice dress.

Feel a bit out of breath on the way up the stairs to your apartment? Another good opportunity for a sit. These stairs could also be dirty, but stairs are generally more conducive for a good sit than railroad ties, so by all means, take a seat.

Spoiler alert, future reviews are currently 67% likely to feature Nelson sitting somewhere. The woman sits a lot.

How I Came To Know It: Earlier this year I discovered the Paranoid Style through a review of their 2024 release, “The Interrogator” I read on Pitchfork. I instantly loved their sound and began digging through their back catalogue.

It is all available on Bandcamp, which is where I got these two albums. Unfortunately, they don’t seem inclined to release on CD, so it had to be a download. Nobody’s perfect…

How It Stacks Up: I have five Paranoid Style albums, including one EP. Of those albums I put “Rolling Disclosure” in at #5 and “Underworld USA” at #2.

Ratings: Rolling Disclosure: 3 stars; Underworld USA: 4 stars

Rolling Disclosure:

Rolling Disclosure is the Paranoid Style’s first album, but from the first notes you can tell this is a band who knows what they are about. Fully formed, like Athena being born directly out of Zeus’ head, the Paranoid Style lock in early to their sound.

That sound is a punk garage rock combined with frenetic New Wave that felt like the second coming of Blondie. Not derivative, but more the inheritor of that sound. The music often sits in front of the beat (as New Wave is wont to do) but it also utilizes that post-disco sway that Blondie evokes.

Elizabeth Nelson’s voice is a low register vibrato, and carefully enunciated words that are the paragon of phrasing and timing (another must-have for New Wave style sound, lest it drag).

Paranoid Style songs never drag, and I found myself breathlessly anticipating what Nelson was going to sing about next. In this regard, the Athena reference is doubly apt, with songs that are a word soup of phrases and images that have no business being successfully sung into a bar of music, and yet somehow work anyway.

Case in point, the opening track, “The Ambassador’s Morning Lift” (one of many songs with long complicated titles), featuring such clever turns of phrase as “It’s useful to keep up disappearances” that trips by so fast you might miss it the first time, and then you deliciously anticipate it on future listens. That’s the pop centre to all of the Paranoid Style’s punk coating.

“Giving Up Early (On Tomorrow)” makes the chorus the most interesting line (and the title). For anyone who has ever had a night out where you set out to make bad drink decisions, and early morning starts be damned. Or maybe it isn’t alcohol fueled at all, just an internally generated existential crisis. This is the song for both those things. It also has a line:

“I was caught somewhere between
Jupiter and Apollo
And tonight I'm giving up early
On tomorrow” 

That had me thinking about that Athena thing all over again.

My biggest issue with “Rolling Disclosure” is the production, which is a bit too garage-y for my tastes. This is clearly deliberate and speaks more to my biases than anything wrong. Nevertheless, I found the mix was a bit too muddy, taking away from the sharp and witty delivery of Nelson’s lyrics.

Underworld USA

Underworld USA gives us more of the same New Wave/punk crossover we were introduced to on “Rolling Disclosure”, but overall a consistently higher quality of both songwriting and production.

For production, things are crisper and the backing band gets a greater chance to shine, which they put to good use, and the arrangements are a bit more thoughtful overall. Is it less punk as a result? Maybe, but not in a bad way.

For songwriting, the Paranoid Style add in elements of hard rock and sixties pop into their mix. It doesn’t change the overall flavour of what they do, but presents a few more layers and makes the songs each stand out more individually.

The opening and title track explore the grubby underbelly of corporate America or maybe politics (the band does hail from Washington DC) or maybe some combination of both. This track, and many that follow on “Underworld USA” aren’t afraid to use the clever wordplay to twist the knife into institutional malaise.

My favourite bit of beat poetry (which is a bit what it sounds like to listen to Nelson sing) is this stanza from “Dominoes in Drag”:

“Making short work
Of a long night
In your slit skirt
With your steak knives
With the stakes high”

This song ranges all over, but this glitzy but predatory descriptor of a fancy dinner event rings out with apocalyptic beauty. Fun fact – later in the song they once again reference Apollo!

The album ends with “Revision of Love” which is more of a seventies barroom banger, converted into a critique of economic models, philosophy and the whys and wherefores of making art, ostensibly wrapped around writing a song about some woman named Loretta. Like most Paranoid Style songs, there is a lot going on here, and the dense and fast-moving imagery requires multiple listens, but the effort is worth it.

Even if you decide you don’t want to explore just why that guy Apollo keeps showing up, or to go learn more about Pascal’s Wager (also referenced), you’ll still have fun, because the music is fucking great.

Best tracks (Rolling Disclosure: The Ambassador’s Morning Lift, Giving Up Early (On Toorrow), Daniel in the Basement

Best Tracks (Underworld USA): Underworld USA, Dominoes in Drag, Hawk vs. Prez, Dedicated Glare, Revision of Love, 

CD Odyssey Disc 1785: Pylon

Happy American Thanksgiving! After a short but very hard week at work, I have taken today off (as is my tradition) to relax and watch American football.

Despite all the coming festivities of the day, I awoke to find myself out of sorts. After a failed and feeble attempt to sleep in, I’ve decided to engage in a little writing therapy. The result, Gentle Reader, is this humble entry in this ongoing CD Odyssey thing I do.

Disc 1785 is…Gyrate Plus

Artist: Pylon

Year of Release: 1980 (the Plus part 2007)

What’s up with the Cover? I’m not sure. Given the band’s name, my first thought was it had to be a pylon, but it just looked more like a hat.

So I asked Sheila. She took a hard look and after a moment declared “hat,” confirming my initial bias. So I’m going with ‘hat’. Four hats, in fact.

Also, in case you’re wondering this is the CD cover; that ring of “record damage” you see is an artistic affectation which does not appear on the original vinyl. Unless of course, you store your records poorly. Then it will appear.

How I Came To Know It: For the second straight review, this is a record I discovered after reading about it in a “best of” article on Paste Magazine. This time it was “Best 50 New Wave Albums” although knowing Paste, the list might’ve been shorter when they first posted and they’ve added to it.

Either way, I dug through the various records I didn’t know and again found a few that appealed, including “Gyrate”.

How It Stacks Up: Pylon released three albums in their short career, but I’ve only got the one, so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 4 stars

When does anxiety feel good? The answer, dear readers is “almost never”, but listening to “Gyrate” is the exception that proves the rule. This record wraps its anxious beats and shrieks in music that makes you want to dance the tension away. Never has foreboding felt more relaxing.

For those who’ve arrived looking for some folk/rock/indie situation, you are about to be disappointed. Pylon is a New Wave/Punk crossover and the guitar you’ll hear is mostly employed as either doing some strange accent sounds or serving as yet another piece of percussion. Beats and bass lines rule these waters.

And lest you think that water reference implies some tranquil latter-day Pink Floyd shit, let me disavow you of such notions. These waters are choppy, and while the forward lean of the beat and the overall production of this record are New Wave in flavour, the visceral attack applied is pure punk rock. “Gyrate” doesn’t straddle the two styles so much as demonstrate that they descend from a common ancestor.

Singer Vanessa Briscoe Hay is exactly what these songs call for, as she spits out a repetition of phrases that eschew telling a tale in favour of setting a mood. More often than not that mood involves a lot of nervous energy. Something is happening, but the details are dismissed in favour of how that something makes you feel.

Case in point, “Dub”, where Hay repeatedly sing/shouts “I’ll redouble efforts” over the beat. What is this redoubling of effort regarding? Wrong question! This is a song about the emotional toil of redoubling efforts, of the internal demand we place on ourselves when we undertake such a redoubling. Leave those details to the troubadours!

“Dub” is a song you won’t get on the original “Gyrate”. My copy is the 2007 re-release named “Gyrate Plus” with bonus content. The additions are all contemporaneous with the original record, and equally good, so their presence is surprisingly seamless. It’s a good thing, too, because Pylon doesn’t do the usual “tag ‘em on as bonus tracks” game. They put two at the front of the record, two at the back and scatter a final pair through the middle. I think it makes the record better, and I expect only the limitations of vinyl in 1980 prevented something similar then.

“Yeah”, you sneer, “but can you dance to this stuff?” First of all, there is no need to sneer, but yes you can totally dance to it. Just don’t expect to bust out your best disco moves. This music is for a lot of ping pong dancing and getting your thrash on. Not in the aggressive metal style (also cool) but in that insular, introverted “we’re all dancing alone together – don’t look at me!” kind of way that punk has always been great for.

Some of the songs are a bit lighter in the arrangement and others more approaching hard core, but they all have a similar tempo and feel. This causes the record to blend together as a single listening experience, which is good and bad. On the good side, you can just sink into “Gyrate” and enter a kind of fugue state of elemental emotion that you likely won’t emerge from until almost an hour later. On the bad side, if you aren’t fully in the moment, you may emerge early and wonder, “is it done yet?”

This is the one downside to the “Plus” on the “Gyrate Plus”. It pushes the record to 16 songs and almost 60 minutes of music. It left me thinking that it may be better to just leave some of that excess in the studio, but it just feels wrong to pull any piece out of the record. It’s all good. Remarkable given it is a record with stuff added in.

Best tracks:  Cool*, Dub*, Volume, Feast on My Heart, Weather Radio, Danger, Working is No Problem, Stop It

*only on the “Plus” version of the album. All others, from the original

CD Odyssey Disc 1774: Bridge City Sinners

For the second straight review we have a CD where the case is a narrow piece of cardboard with nothing on the spine. Argh. This one was one of four I bought by the same band, so I converted an old double album CD case into a case for all four and named it “The Bridge City Sinners Anthology.”. While they are all now in one place, I am committed to rolling them individually. Here’s the first.

Disc 1774 is…Unholy Hymns

Artist: Bridge City Sinners

Year of Release: 2021

What’s up with the Cover? The Bridge City Sinners’ logo, which looks like a pentagram inside an eyeball. If your iris looks like this, call a doctor, and maybe also a priest. You’ve got a condition.

How I Came To Know It: Last month I went to Vancouver to see Frank Turner in concert. While waiting for the show to start I was fascinated to see the lineup for the opening band’s merch table stretch back three times as long as Frank’s. Feeling inspired I got in that lineup, learned it was the Bridge City Sinners from their fans (who are hardcore), and by the time I was at the front bought a t-shirt and all four albums. This is one of them. It was done on a whim, but it turned out well for me.

How It Stacks Up: I have four Bridge City Sinners albums. I love them all, but they are all so new it is hard to rank them. I’ll say it is #2 but I reserve the right to move it around.

Ratings: 4 stars

It’s rare that music as old timey as the Bridge City Sinners can sound like nothing you’ve ever heard before, but such is the devil’s brew of styles they mix up. Be prepared for a healthy does of bluegrass, the soul of punk, combined with a healthy dollop of lounge cabaret that has run away with the circus. Oh, also, as the name would imply they sing about sin – and Satan in particular – a lot.

The genre busting is maybe best exemplified by lead singer Libby Lux, who also plays…the banjolele. I’ve never heard of the banjolele before Libby introduced me to it, but it is what the name implies – what a ukulele would be like if it were based off a banjo and not a guitar. It’s a weird combination of sound, half of both, and according to Wikipedia (which is never wrong) “most” popular in the twenties and thirties.

That tracks, because Lux and her band fell right out of an alternate past, where the world is a diaspora of sex, booze, sin and Satan. People dance about in the mud shirtless, wearing only work boots, baggy pants and floppy hats. There is much carrying on.

Yes that’s the vibe, you say, but how’s the music? Thanks for asking – the answer is…excellent. They’ve updated old timey sounds into something with a ragged and modern edge. Most tunes are played at a furious pace, and every instrument at any moment will be dropping staccato string strikes. Drums are entirely absent and entirely unnecessary. Despite the speed, everyone keeps impeccable time, allowing frontwoman Libby Lux to work her magic.

That magic is an unholy warble, as Lux twists her mouth around lyrics like they’re so hot they’ll burn her tongue, so lascivious that you can tell she likes them that way. Lux is a punk possessed, but never so out of control she’s not always serving the song and the arrangement – which can jump from one idea to the next several times in a single tune. Her passion pulls you through every curve, and you’re quickly drawn into all that energy.

As noted earlier, the Bridge City Sinners love singing about the dark side of the universe, and much like their two previous records, “Unholy Hymns” is replete with murder ballads, tales of drug abuse and, of course, the devil. There is even a double-shot of Lovecraftian horror with “The Legend of Olog-Hai” Part 1 and 2.

There are no bad songs, but one particular standout is “Devil Like You” a duet tale of newlyweds and murder where death-by-strangulation is the order of the day, and the romance part of the song very much past tense and ephemeral.

“Rock Bottom” is a bouquet of depression, cigarettes and alcohol, all of which are part of the dirgelike refrain of “no matter how low I go/there ain’t no rock bottom for me.”

The album ends with the title track, and the band doubles down on their apocalyptic but artistic vision as the narrator dies, finds out they are destined for hell, and yet remain rebellious and unrepentant:

“Hey Saint Pete how do I look
Sorry I didn't spend my life reading your book
I'll be fine don't pray for my sins
I'm going down singing unholy hymns”

Traditional bluegrass, this is not.

It is also not music if you are looking for uplifting tales of love and redemption, but if you enjoy the antics of a rogue’s gallery of murderers, drunks and devil-may-care rakes, then this music is a sinful pleasure. If as you may suspect, it is a little tongue-in-cheek, this takes nothing away from the brilliant writing and performing of gifted players who fully commit to their roles from start to finish.

Best tracks:  The Devil’s Swing, Rock Bottom, Departed, Devil Like You, Unholy Hymns

CD Odyssey Disc 1761: Ezra Furman

I’m on the last day of a long weekend spent visiting with all manner of relatives on both sides of the family. I’ve taken one extra day to compose myself before I return to work, and while the day is shaping up to have a lot of errand running, I’m starting things the right way – with a coffee and a music review.

Disc 1761 is…Day of the Dog

Artist: Ezra Furman

Year of Release: 2013

What’s up with the Cover? Ezra Furman looks awkward and anxious standing in front of some old building. This cover has the feel of a Jones Cola photo.

How I Came To Know It: I came late to Ezra Furman through their 2022 album “All of Us Flames” which was my second favourite album of 2022. I haven’t reviewed that album yet, but you can read the full Top 10 recap here where I hint at how great it is.

Later, a combination of hearing more Furman through my friend Casey, and watching the TV show “Sex Education” (which features Furman’s songs prominently) gave me the itch to dig into the back catalogue. And here we are.

How It Stacks Up: I have four Ezra Furman albums and I’m on the lookout for two more. Of the four I have, “Day of the Dog” comes in at #2.

Ratings: 5 stars

“Day of the Dog” is what would happen if you crossed the Cramps with Buddy Holly and threw in some Leonard Cohen-style poetry. Maybe add the horn section from a marching band for good measure. The result is music that cleaves to a simpler time in rock and roll, but in a way you’ve never heard before.

This cross-section of sound manifests itself with a distinct punk vibe. The production is tinny and scratchy and Furman’s vocals screech out with a manic anger that instantly draws you to the emotional core of each song. At any moment you think they’ll keel over from all the Goddamn feels being felt, but somehow the album just teeters and lurches forward, kept stable by a ballast of fearless and inspired songwriting.

That tinny production would usually put me off, and on my first couple of listens I found myself wondering how songs with bones as beautiful as these ones have would sound with a gentler, folksier delivery. I’m sure they would be great like that, but the more I immersed myself the more comfortable I became with the more frantic and anxiety-inducing choices that Furman made.

Given the reckless fury of the record, you may be surprised to hear how much horn happens. There is a lot of saxophone on this record, mostly employed to add swing and excitement to the songs. The sax player (Tim Sandusky) adds a jauntiness to the music that helps the sometimes stark lyrics go down easier. A little sweetness to let you know that while we’re going to cover some emotionally heavy stuff, rock and roll is also about having fun.

Not content with the kind of jauntiness a saxophone can provide, we are also treated to artful hand claps on “Anything Can Happen”. Hand claps make almost any song better, and “Anything Can Happen” features a lot of them. Just the right amount, as it happens.

It is hard to write a record this vulnerable and not cross over into bathos, but Furman manages to avoid it even while singing such stark lines as “I am broken wide open bleeding everywhere” on “The Mall”.

Furman’s musical curiosity knows no bounds. On “At the Bottom of the Ocean” she compares deep sea creatures with her emotional state and sets it all to a classic Bo Diddly guitar riff. It is fearless, fun and thought-provoking stuff and it works.

The record ends with “Cherry Lane” a song with a romantic and breezy summer structure, until you listen more closely and see that the street of Furman’s fond reverie is actually a bit dodgy:

“Past the wounded cars reflecting all their dirty light
Past the unnamed bars, the unnamed prisoners of the night
Past the Winnebago dreaming all its iron dreams
Past the haunted drugstore where the fortune teller leans
Past the gravel parking lot where blood is always blood
Past the storefront church where they say God made Man from mud
There you'll find the broken toys who chased their love in vain
If you wander over yonder down my Cherry Lane”

This juxtaposition of musical styles that speak to simpler and happier time, mixed with difficult topics – both internal and societal – is at the core of what makes “Day of the Dog” a perfect record. It is a record that will make you tap your foot and sing along with joy, but it will make you think some dark and complicated thoughts while you’re doing it.

Best tracks:  all tracks

CD Odyssey Disc 1746: The Chats

Later tonight I am excited to listen to my two newest musical acquisitions – new releases from the quietly graceful Anna Tivel and the pensive majesty of Ezra Furman. This next record is decidedly unlike those records.

Disc 1746 is…High Risk Behaviour

Artist: The Chats

Year of Release: 2020

What’s up with the Cover?  From last review’s stylish art piece by KMFDM we come this week to a drawing that is more…rudimentary. If you want to know what Eamon, Matt and “Pricey” (guitarist Josh Price) look like, this is it…very basically.

How I Came To Know It: I got to know the band originally through my friend Nick discovering them on Youtube. This was me buying their first full length LP after searching them out.

How It Stacks Up: If you count the compilation of their first two EPs as one record (which I do), I have three albums by the Chats. When I reviewed “Get Fucked” I put it #1 but warned that it might drop when I reviewed their other records. This has now happened, with “High Risk Behaviour” taking over at #1. As this completes my Chats collection (for now) here’s the full accounting:

1. High Risk Behaviour: 5 stars (reviewed right here)
2. Get Fucked: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1619)
3. The First Two EPs by the Chats: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1730)

 Rating: 5 stars

“Smoko” was the song that introduced me to the Chats, but it was “High Risk Behaviour” that showed me they were far more than a one hit Youtube phenomenon. This record is 14 songs, 27 minutes, and every moment grabs you by the front of your shirt and shakes you. My only regret was that it was over too soon each time.

This is pure punk rock and like most good punk bands (in my opinion) they are sneaky good musicians. Josh Price plays guitar with an enthusiastic garage rock style that tastes to the ear a bit of how a can of cheap bear tastes to the tongue: refreshing and vaguely metallic. This is the last album to feature Price (he is not on 2022’s “Get Fucked”) and while the band is still awesome in a different way, I do love what he brings to the sound on this record.

The punk vibes come on strong from drummer Matt Boggis and particularly from vocals/bassist Eamon Sandwith. Sandwith’s bass is great, but his vocals are what elevates the band to greatness. He sings with a strong Australian accent, and a natural snarl that would give Johnny Rotten a run for his money. Also, these songs are better than Sex Pistols songs, adding to his advantage. Sandwith is the voice of a generation of degenerates, and pub-crawling alcoholics. It isn’t a healthy approach for actual living, but it makes for great rock and roll.

The record’s topics are generally focused around the usual Chats fare of getting hammered, and being broke, but with a strangely specific focus on food. On “Dine n Dash” Sandwith laments:

“I wanna go out and fill my gob
But I don’t have a fucking job”

Solution? Flee the restaurant without paying. You’d think one song about drinking and eating at the pub would be enough, but no. “Pub Feed” is about the glorious feeling of cramming greasy late-night food in your ‘gob’ after too many pints earlier on. We know from “Dine n Dash” this won’t end up costing anything. Maybe a night in jail if the bouncer is fleet-of-foot.

The cost comes on “Keep the Grubs Out” a song about being barred from the pub. I once had an uncle barred permanently from a pub and it is amazing when the waitstaff can remember someone for the wrong reasons that many years later. The eventually relented and let my uncle in, but the Chats were not so lucky, as they are advised:

“We appreciate your understanding sir
Feel free to come back when you get a haircut”

Sounds like one of them fancy places, so not likely where our heroes were going to have the best time anyway. With that haircut comment, I’d likely be turned away as well.

Other standouts on the record include “Stinker” and “Drunk n Disorderly” both of which are along the same lines regarding drinking too much, but minus the food.

“The Clap” features enthusiastic hand claps, but it isn’t the kind of clap that the song is about. More of the doctor visit/take antibiotics variety.

Near the end of the record the Chats give us a signature moment with “Do What I Want”. One of the more melodic songs on the record, the song’s refrain is “Don’t tell me what to do!” which is a good summary of how the Chats approach music. They channel old school punk but they do it in their own unique way, and offer no apologies while doing so. Keep doing it exactly the way you want, Chats - it’s working.

Best tracks: All of them. Particularly strong love for: Stinker, Drunk N Disorderly, The Clap, Identity Theft, Keep the Grubs Out, Pub Feed, Do What I Want

CD Odyssey Disc 1741: Spiritual Cramp

As of Friday, I am officially on holiday! This feels pretty good, even though today I am doing what I would do on any given Sunday – puttering around the house and doing the laundry.

I’m also writing this next music review. The 2020s albums extend their string to four with this next record. This is also the second album in a row that I purchased through Bandcamp.

Disc 1741 is…Self-Titled

Artist: Spiritual Cramp

Year of Release: 2023

What’s up with the Cover?  It took me a while to figure out this innovatively (in this case poorly) framed photo. It is of a person in some kind of hiking or rain gear facing a wooden wall with some graffiti on it.

Art should always force us to ask questions. In this case that question is “does this photo suck or blow?” My answer is, “yes”.

How I Came To Know It: The boring way I discover a fair chunk of new music. I read a review and it sounded interesting enough to check out.

How It Stacks Up: This is my only Spiritual Cramp album, so it can’t stack up.

Rating: 4 stars

Foot firmly on gas pedal. That is what it is to listen to Spiritual Cramp, a post-punk band that leans in fast and aggressive from the opening track and doesn’t let up for the next 10 tracks and breathless 25 minutes. This is what music would sound like if it were able to generate centrifugal force, a motorcycle of sound leaning hard into every corner, trusting the speed of the approach to pull you through to the next chord.

While the sensibility is punk, Spiritual Cramp pulls from a lot of different musical styles. The guitar is pure rock riff action, slung low and played with a sneer. The pace and urgency of the forward-leaning beat feels New Wave, and they’re not afraid of some pop inspired “hey! hey!” backing vocals, a la the Beaches. They even throw in hand claps when they’re warranted. A number of songs incorporate a Reggae backbeat that will surprise you with how well it fits in with the other elements.

Singer Michael Bingham has a voice that straddles the line between anthemic and apocalyptic, reminding me a bit of a cross between HMLTD and fellow San Francisco band The Growlers (If you don’t know these two bands, check them out. They are great). When the songs lean towards pop he sounds disconcertingly like Brandon Flowers. I don’t like this similarity (I’m not a Killers fan, and I like Brandon Flowers even less) but here it is OK. Imagine if the Killers had more of an edge and were generally, you know…better.

The band sings about all manner of unhealthy experiences, including anxiety, drug addiction and unchecked rampant consumerism. The best example of the latter (and the record’s best song) is “Slick Rick”. Its chorus is a faux celebration of overdoing it, as our titular character expresses his desires:

“I want the biggest house on the block with a yard
I wanna fly everywhere and put the miles on my credit card
Four story house and a king-sized bed
I wanna pure breed dog – I wanna live in debt”

On “Can I Borrow Your Lighter?” they double down on anxiety, with a painfully straightforward refrain of “I'm always stressed out/Always annoyed/I'm always tired”. It isn’t exactly Tennyson but the raw delivery from Bingham and the crashing beat puts you right in the unhappy place he describes.

The record ends with “Addict,” which depicts that harsh moment when our narrator decides they are no longer going to let someone is pulling them down with their bad habits. It is a harsh “you can’t save everyone” moment, with more than a little vitriol. The song is only two minutes long, but despite the short, sharp and aggressive content, you can tell the relationship was many painful years in the making before the final “I’m done” moment arrived.

Overall, this record is powerful, energized and unapologetic. I liked every song and loved several. This one will be on rotation in the collection for years to come.

Best tracks: Blowback, Slick Rick, Talkin’ On the Internet, Catch a Hot One, Can I Borrow Your Lighter, Addict

CD Odyssey Disc 1736: The Cramps

A long day ends with…a Bruins win! We head back to Boston for game six against the much-hated (by me) Florida Panthers.

Now…on to the music. This next album has been in my car almost a week as I tried to catch up on work, life and everything in between.

Disc 1736 is…Look Mom No Head!

Artist: The Cramps

Year of Release: 1991

What’s up with the Cover?  A fun house full of booze hounds! Actually, it is just the one booze hound – its all done with mirrors.

Our cover girl still appears to have her head, but pounding down that bottle of hard liquor will sort that out soon enough. As the Cramps sing on “Blow Up Your Mind”:

“Ain't you a little too healthy, mm?
Drink some bad wine
Trap some bats in your belfry
and blow up your mind!”

How I Came To Know It: I came to the Cramps through a Canadian band that they inspired called “The Creepshow” and worked my way backward from there. This led me through a journey into the delightful musical genre of psychobilly. The wellspring of all things psychobilly is the Cramps, and swimming upstream, I naturally arrived there.

How It Stacks Up: I have five Cramps albums, and they are all awesome. It pains me to put “Look Mom, No Head!” in the lowly position of fifth, but they are all that good.

Rating: 4 stars

When you invent a style of music that inspires generations of musicians to follow, you’ve probably done something right, and the Cramps are an inspiration to all that live the unbridled life of rock and roll, and to do it without apology.

For those of you who don’t know what psychobilly is, it is a Frankenstein’s Monster of punk rock, rockabilly, mixed with a B-Horror film sensibility. Imagine Elvis Presley if he were a sex-crazed lunatic high on LSD. Sounds awesome? Then the Cramps are the music for you.

It all begins with lead singer Lux Interior, lasciviously eating up every inch of real estate a Cramps song can offer (which is a lot). Mr. Interior (definitely his real name) has a voice that sounds like he was born for the stage, but the stage wasn’t cool enough for him so he instead sold his soul to rock and roll.

The Cramps double down on sex, drugs and rock and roll in a way few bands can match. Songs like “Bend Over, I’ll Drive” and “I Wanna Get In Your Pants” are about exactly the things you think they’ll be about, and written with intent to push boundaries and barriers, and to have fun doing it.

The fun is an important part of the formula, because the Cramps seem to have a very good time, and the songs are edgy but very much tongue in cheek. They dare you to take offense and if you don’t you’re rewarded with membership in their club of strange. Everyone’s welcome as long as you accept that everyone is welcome.

Musically, these songs have that flat and frenetic delivery of traditional punk rock, but absent the anger. They are also incredibly tight as a band. Guitarist Poison Ivy (definitely her real name), bassist Slim Chance (ditto), and drummer Jim Sclavanos (likely a pseudonym) have a natural talent for sitting down at the front of the pocket with the perfect timing that rockabilly requires to deliver its driving energy. It isn’t the same lineup the Cramps started with in their glory days but it is still a solid set of musicians.

The songs have a theatrical flair to them that goes beyond the glamorous grotesqueries of Lux Interior, but underneath it all is a band with a willingness to experiment with various forms of rock and roll, secure in the knowledge that five albums and over a decade into their career their legacy was secure.

I loved this record, and despite almost a full week with it in the car I never tired of it. Even weaker tracks like “Alligator Stomp” and “Don’t Get Funny With Me” have a delightfully dark kitsch that makes them fun. Musically, “Look Mom No Head!” isn’t as raw and powerful as some of their earlier work, but it has just as much gusto, and I had just as good a time. Give them a chance and you might too.

Best tracks: Dames Booze Chains and Boots, Two Headed Sex Change, Blow Up Your Mind, Miniskirt Blues, I Wanna Get In Your Pants, Bend Over I’ll Drive

CD Odyssey Disc 1730: The Chats

Whew! What a week it has been. In addition to a LOT of work commitments, I managed to take in two concerts in two days – Katie Pruitt on Monday and Ice Cube on Tuesday. Coming soon to A Creative Maelstrom…a review of both shows at once! For now, here’s the album that’s been serenading my journey in between work and events.

Disc 1730 is…The First Two EPs by the Chats

Artist: The Chats

Year of Release: 2016 and 2017

What’s up with the Cover?  Drawings from the first two EPs by the Chats. On the left we have a woman giving us the finger, meaning two of three Chats album covers featuring someone telling viewers to F off. That’s punk for ya.

How I Came To Know It: As I noted when I reviewed 2022’s “Get Fucked” my friend Nick discovered the Chat through a song called “Smoko”. That song is off their second EP “Get This In Ya!!” which is one half of this combo record. Based on that I simply had to have this record and ordered it forthwith through my good friends at Bandcamp.

How It Stacks Up: Technically this is two EPs (self-titled and “Get This In Ya!!”) but since the Chats saw fit to repackage it as a single LP, I’ll count it. That leaves me with three Chats albums, all excellent. I’ll put this EP collection in at #3.  In this case finishing last is no dishonour.

Rating: 4 stars

14 songs, 32 furious and fast minutes, and you’ll enjoy every single moment. That’s what you get from the Chats First Two EPs. These three blokes are one of the best modern punk bands around. On these two early records, you get to hear them explore punk from a lot of different angles, all of them awesome.

The influences here are many, and you’ll hear the ghosts of the Dead Kennedys, the Sex Pistols, Black Flag and even the Dead Milkmen on various tracks. Despite all these influences the Chats never sound derivative. They are fresh and full of restless energy, directed into finding new interpretations of two chords and an angry truth.

The Chats are Australian and wear their oi oi oi o their sleeves, with the record featuring so much authentic Down Under slang I needed the urban dictionary in places. We are treated to plenty of songs about being Down and Out in Queensland. On the opening record we have the troubling challenge of “Mum Stole My Darts” (smokes) and later in the same song, Dad stealing your weed.

The first EP/side ends on a positive note with “VB Anthem” a love song that serenades Victoria Bitter, a mass produced Australian beer. Its principal quality appears to be that it costs “40 bucks a slab”. Yeah, good times roll – fuelled by cheap beer! “VB Anthem” shows its love through the sheer amount of time dedicated to its frothy subject as well. At 3:43 it is practically an epic by Chats standards.

These may have been originally intended as two shorter albums, but they work very well as a “Side One/Side Two” with the eponymous debut raw and garage-like, and the follow up “Get This In Ya!!” more rounded and loaded with surfer punk vibes. They’re different but compliment each other well. On my first listen I wasn’t sure about the thicker, less industrial sounding second record, but it grew on me and pretty soon I was enjoying the transition between the records just as much as their individual charms.

The second record starts with the Chats classic hit, “Smoko”. There is simply nothing wrong with this perfect song, from its killer bass riff opening, to its Dead Kennedy’s style guitar whine, all the way to Eamon Sandwith’s angry drawl as he recounts various characters telling all comers to leave him alone, while he is on “Smoko”. This means coffee break, Australian style.

The Chats present as degenerates but they’re sneaky smart. In “Smoko” the twist comes in the second verse where our narrator can’t get through to learn the fate of his Centrelink (aka social assistance) check only to find the clerk assigned to help him is – you guessed it – on smoko. Goose, meet gander.

Later on “Bus Money” we find our narrator walking home, having spent all his money on cigarettes (darts), beer (brews) and lottery tickets (scratchies).  Few bands capture the desperate anger of being broke like the Chats, and while there is some humour infused into these songs there is also a ragged and raw frustration that if you’ve ever been chronically broke, is instantly recognizable.

These EPs are so good it would almost be a shame to hear them individually. They’d both be over far too soon. Combined, they are greater than the sum of their parts and a wholly awesome journey into some oft the best punk music you’ll find.

Best tracks: Mum Stole My Darts, Don’t Stop the Blues, VB Anthem, Smoko, Bus Money

CD Odyssey Disc 1721: The Modern Lovers

Last night I went dancing for the first time in a while. While the music wasn’t to my tastes, the crowd was great and the dancing an experience I’ve always loved that was long overdue for a return.

Disc 1721 is…Self-Titled

Artist: The Modern Lovers

Year of Release: 1976, but featuring music from 1971-1973

What’s up with the Cover?  A less than inspiring logo. It is OK, and I like the purple they’ve chosen, but um…could be more. This is a reissue and I believe the original has a black background with a blue heart and a white circle. That looks a bit better but still…yawn.

How I Came To Know It: Ever since my friend Casey put me onto Jonathan Richman I’ve been buying up his back catalogue. I’d never heard (nor even “heard of”) this record when I saw it in the record store and decided to give it a go.

How It Stacks Up: I have two other Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers albums. Technically this is not Jonathan Richman, and the Modern Lovers, this is just “The Modern Lovers” although yes, Jonathan Richman is in the band. I realize this is confusing. More on this later.

In the meantime, to remove the confusion I’m going to count this in my overall assessment of Jonathan Richman in my collection, in all his various Modern Lover contexts. That means I have three total albums, and it also means this is my final review (at least until I can find the elusive “I, Jonathan”). I rank “The Modern Lovers” at #3. Here’s the full accounting:

1. Jonathan Sings!: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1630)
2. Self-Titled (Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers): 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1649)
3. Self-Titled (The Modern Lovers): 3 stars (reviewed right here)

 Rating: 3 stars but almost 4

Listening to the Modern Lovers self-titled debut felt a little bit like peering into a parallel universe. A place where the Modern Lovers are a punk band with some pop sensibilities, instead of the reverse. So similar, but with the emphasis differently placed.

From 1971-1973 Jonathan Richman was part of the original Modern Lovers, but they split up and Richman would go on to front a new band. Along the way, the old recordings from his original band kind of hung around, eventually getting released in 1976 – the same year Richman’s new band (also the Modern Lovers but now with is name in the front) released their eponymous debut.

The earlier record has similarities to Richman’s later solo work mostly through his quavering but confident vocals, and his propensity to observe the world in a detached but insightful manner. The song topics are a bit more straightforward tunes about love, drugs and rock and roll. No martians, no abominable snowmen in the market that you’ll hear on his other records. Still present – his idealized exploration of love.

Well, it could be idealized, or it could be ironic. With Richman it is hard to tell, but I find his music a lot more enjoyable if you assume he is being earnest. It opens you up to a world where your faith in the basic decency of people is affirmed, even if things don’t always go the way they should.

Musically, the Modern Lovers (the album I’m reviewing right now…) has a stronger punk edge, with a garage-like feel to the playing that was strongly reminiscent of early Lou Reed. This is reinforced by songs that do not get creative with the melody. A couple of chords, played in earnest.

The heavy use of organ and the meandering feel to the songs evokes a late sixties/early seventies psychedelia as well, which is a welcome addition and makes songs that could feel repetitive instead draw you into a joyful, almost manic trance.

The goofiness that defines Richman’s other albums does appear on one tune. With “Pablo Picasso” Richman muses:

“Some people try to pick up girls and get called assholes
This never happened to Pablo Picasso “

I doubt Picasso was never called an asshole, but I guess anything is possible and it is a curious thought regardless. The song further benefits from a stoner surfer vibe on guitar that makes it the best track on a record with many good ones.

On “Girlfriend” the chorus spells out the song’s title as “g-i-r-l-f-r-e-n”. We know from the title Richman knows better, but this nod to ‘whatevs’ is part of what gives the Modern Lovers their charm. They are nerds and outcasts, but they make it cool.

“I’m Straight” is a great song, but not at all about what you would think based on the current meaning of the word. Back in the early seventies, the expression meant “not high.” The song features Richman phoning around, jealous of another neighbourhood character, “Hippy Johnny” who is always high.

My copy of the record is the 2003 re-release, which is good because it comes with a lot of extra tunes, including the aforementioned “I’m Straight” and the also brilliant “Government Center”. Unfortunately, it was 2003 and soulless record execs were feeling the need to use up the new medium’s available space. As a result, we get “alternate versions” of three of the record’s songs, (“Someone I Care About”, “Modern World” and “Roadrunner”). The first two are not even the record’s better songs and while “Roadrunner” is awesome, the original studio version is demonstrably better.

Minor complaints however on a record that otherwise shows Richman’s genius in a couple of ways. First, that the record is a master class in early punk/alternative music and the other that it came out in the same year as Richman dropped another classic record in a totally different (and yet not) style. Parallel universes, in every awesome way possible.

Best tracks: Roadrunner, Old World, Pablo Picasso, Hospital, Girlfriend, I’m Straight, Government Center