Rockhunter, Issue 26, 22 September 2006
Beyond History: Total Nonentities of Rock ‘n’ Roll
It used to be a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of a shit-load of garage rock records is often in want of a girlfriend. These days, however, if you’re a Deep Knowledge Freak, a mouth breathin’ dust-lover, a Grand Groove-Sniffer Pursuivant, you literally can’t move for pussy. It’s all good!!! I’ve never had it so much!!!!!
Where was I? As usual, I find myself swamped with a plethora. Actually, that sounds quite nice when you say it aloud. Mmm, I like it! I’ve been getting my ears around a whole load of recent shite, trying for a little more context. But to be honest it’s only the re-releases that’re keeping me afloat. And the new comps have been pouring through my letterbox.
Let’s get this straight, just so’s we’re clear, my friends. I’m strictly out of the loop and off the circuit. I got no contacts, brothers and sisters. I don’t shmooze. Parties ain’t me. I go out and get my records, they don’t send ‘em to me. Y’unnerstand? So when I open a cardboard mailer, I know it’s gonna be something neat. Where’s all this heading? Quien sabe, muchachos!! Sono Inglese, yer dig!! I had to get it off me chest!!!
Taking Care Of Your Woollens… And Other Punk Rock Habits
So, what was I least expecting right now?? The return of Woollen Records, that’s all!! They always find me!!! How do they find me?? Anyway, good ole Woollen are back with two — count ‘em! — new comps, Fear Us Not, Volumes I & II. But!!! The word in the shop is that the shadowy forces behind this deep underground operation have gone to ground and Woollen has gone, like, totally belly up for the second and final time!! Maybe something to do with the Intellectual Property Squad busting their door in and giving them the ole Ordinary Rendition… off to Nick, that is. Maybe they just didn’t pay the bills? Who knows?!? Anyway, let’s give credit where it’s due, and doff our titfers for the passing of a great rekkid labial.
If you can find any of the super-crazy tri-action spazzola product unleashed by these insaniac punk perverts, buy ‘em immediately. You’ll never see them again!!!!
My jaw quite literally fell off when I saw the names on the Fear Us Not school register: Dr Fell, The Gaspers, Flash Farm, Trilogy, The Tales of Woad, Avis Savory, The Craftsmen, Gaping Maw, 10-Acre Field, Langston Cove, Angharad, The Oaves, Bent Magician, Days of Night, The Tempus Fugitives, Perfumed Wind, The Sutton Who, dee-da dee-da. And the list goes on and on and on.
Yeah, so we all know about this stuff. I’ve got a bevvy of these strangeoid concoctions by hook or by crook over the years, but I’m always surprised that anyone else can be bothered. I’ve absolutely no inclination to go through the process of hawking bootleg comps round the circuit. It’s a hamster’s wheel, a Sisyphusian task, a knob-ache. Let the other mouth-breathers give themselves hernias. I cannot stress how limited my patience is.
But seriously, both vols of Fear Us Not are pretty nearly totally amazing. And they’re virtually giving the things away at a few quid a pop.
Dr Fell’s “Beware of yesterday” is the most blustering slab o’ psych, with the whoosh and the ping-ing-ing and the wail of Old Tiddy Mun, beckoning the unwary into the dirty magic of the ancient Fens. Oh yes, this is Fen Punk at its best (or F-Punk as its passionate fan calls it). And still the world awaits a wider awareness of this relatively untapped throbbing vein of musical ore. So, you don’t dive into the bliss of psych with Dr Fell, you struggle to escape its fenny sucking pit. You don’t dig this sort of nutzoid fantasy boogiosity, you syphon it wholesale with a sludge-gulper. Hmm. that’s quite enough of that.
The Craftsmen’s “Flurries of Heartache” is a workmanlike East Midlands soul epic, nice enough, until… that guitar noise!!! It’s a volume pedal waggling, feedfront tour de force!!! Meanwhile, in another part of the Id, I’d like to pit Gaping Maw’s “Are you sitting on a map?” against Jason Crest’s “Turqouise Tandem Cycle”. Paisley handbags at dawn, if you get my drift.
10-Acre Field’s “Happy-Go-Lucky” and Langston Cove’s “Bank Holiday” are prime examples of how not to write and record your own record in a day. But what a great nightmare!!! Two of the best examples of what I’ve christened the “1969 Church Hall Sound”. Listen and see.
And if you like the rushing sound of a lightning breeze, check Bent Magician’s, “Dolly Dangerous”, and “It’s Her Real Name, She Likes It” by Days of Night. “Tempus fugitive” by The Tempus Fugitives is a proper fuzz ripper with, strangely, a complex Scriabin-style 1930s Hollywood filmic interlude. V strange. Back on terra infirma, Perfumed Wind’s “Go back to your time” is like gravy on your psychedelic Sunday lunch. Smooth, like…well, like good brown gravy.
Finally, what can I say about “Nuclear Dynamite” by The Oaves? It’s a V8 punch in the bollocks. Or quim. They don’t discriminate, these fellows. It’s 1968, but no one’s told The Oaves. Hiding out in a Commer van parked on an allotment in the Vale of Evesham, not knowing the Emperor’s surrendered. You get the picture. Think Leviathan’s failed TV music career as featured in “A Year in the Life”. Imagine if Mike Stewart’s Spam had less idea and more volume. Cor!!!
My life is always changed by new toons (new in the Northern Soul sense of the term, mates!!!). I’ve a collective name for new comps. I call them Nudge-Its. Basically, this refers to a mega- or ur-compilation of arcane tunes you like best, until the next one comes along, or, otherwise, it refers to the love of the last good tune you heard.
Meanwhile, let me go now. I’m getting back into my tape machinery. Cut-ups, making new from old and old from older. Favourite bits of records intertwined. Intro+v+c+m8. Mek dem all mix-up. Make something ghastly wonderful. Then imagine what animal it would be if it were one. Actually, I don’t think I’m explaining myself too well. So I’ll stop now. I shall have a small glass of Marsala. Then a nap, I think.
More new(-ish) comp reviews tomorrow.
Two love,
Ed.
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