Joseph's Picks Of The Week 2/4/11 - Government Issue and Miles Davis

I’ve been on a strong hardcore kick lately. And kick is a very apropos descriptor, for at its best the aggressive charge of undiluted HC is like getting a mainline boost of pure adrenalin.  In the right dosage, the unwavering dedication to a tightly wound formal strategy is an aural blast unlike any other, but it proved a rigid plank that all HC band’s had to walk; either expand the sonic template with fresh elements, break-up the band and perhaps start from scratch or just keep on keepin’ on and run the astronomically high risk of falling into the salty sea of mediocrity (or worse). More so than in any other style of punk, the lifespan of a hardcore band is finite and fragile, with the number of HC groups that have released more than one or two great records being extremely small. In the geographical topography of early HC, the Nation’s Capital served as probably the most fertile and historically resonant environment, producing a considerable number of excellent bands in a quite brief time period, with a select few realizing some of the genre’s defining moments. Part of the reason for DC’s success likely lies in the generally non-adversarial relationship between the young upstarts and the area’s older punk-inclined inhabitants. Guys like Skip Groff (record store owner, disc jockey, “Skip we love you!!!”), Don Zientara (musician, engineer/producer), and Howard Wuelfing Jr. (musician, rock scribe) played an important role in mentoring a tumultuous gaggle of teenagers filled to bursting with righteous fury, and it was perhaps this give and take that helped to infuse harDCore with its strong ties to melody and rhythmic elasticity, elements that successfully overcame the unforgiving nature of that notorious polka-style beat. When these early DC bands were/are at their best, the ear can actually detect shards of precedent spanning back to ‘60s garage, Iggy’s Stooges and Handsome Dick’s Dictators. Government Issue were one of the finest of the first wave of Dischord bands, releasing the classic LEGLESS BULL 7” in 1981 and contributing two tracks to the following year’s absolutely essential and still incendiary compilation FLEX YOUR HEAD. The lynchpin member of the band is vocalist John Stabb, whose inclination toward a quirky, often humorous style was a much welcome contrast to the one-note rage and tough-guy bluster that grew to plague the HC juggernaut. For a whole bunch of reasons, Government Issue never really gathered the following they deserved, though discerning punk fans have known the score and talked them up for years. That’s how I was hipped to 1983’s BOYCOTT STABB LP, originally a split release between Dischord and the rather eccentric DC label Fountain of Youth. Though appropriately brief, it stands as one of the best full-length records in the annals of early hardcore, and it’s succinct heaviness now exists in a vinyl edition that’s expanded definitiveness will only add weight and luster to the group’s posthumous reputation. DC bands associated with the Dischord tradition are notorious for breaking up early or refusing to continue with replacement members, but Government Issue actually fell to the opposite extreme, including up to fourteen alumni at the point of their breakup in 1989. The lineup on COMPLETE SESSION is a fine one, if not the best then very close, and the style is still unmistakably hardcore in intent. The musicianship hits that perfect balance between sloppy and tight with just the right amount of non-flash dexterity, and Stabb shows his mettle as a true singer. At just over thirty-one minutes, the twenty-one tracks here form an impressive, compact whole. “Religious Ripoff”, originally released on FLIPSIDE VINYL FANZINE VOL. 1, might be my favorite cut, in part because it stands apart from the lyrics’ general inclination toward more personal topics. When Stabb shout-moans the name of phony faith-healer Ernest Angley it’s surely due to seeing his bad toupee and noxious shtick on WDCA Channel 20, and brothers and sisters, I can relate. “Fashionite” carries on hardcore’s proud tradition of localism, bashing trendy Georgetowners, and “Sheer Terror”  (something of a signature tune) wields just the right type of Misfits influence. The inclusion of extended snippets of studio banter provides a scholarly, folkloric aura that’s sure to increase as more people come to understand the enduring power and gnarled-up beauty intrinsic to the many stylistic incarnations of punk rock. Archival issues don’t get much better than BOYCOTT STABB THE COMPLETE SESSION, and it’s nice to see this classic record finally get a full slot in the Dischord roster.

1957’s COOKIN’ WITH THE MILES DAVIS QUINTET was the first of a four album series culled from two extended 1956 studio dates, one in May the other in October, and it initiates one of the high points in the lengthy career of the only serious contender for the title of World’s Greatest Jazz Trumpeter (the Champion [of course] being Louis Armstrong). Davis is however the finest trumpet player to spring from the deep well of Modern Jazz, with his main challengers being Clifford Brown, Donald Byrd, Freddie Hubbard, Lee Morgan and Don Cherry. Davis beats them all though (not that it’s a contest), and one big reason is sheer longevity: he captained masterpieces in four decades, and only his ‘80s comeback proved to be anti-climactic. One of Davis’s most important qualities was a nearly unerring ear for just what talent best suited the needs of his ever evolving sound, and this attribute naturally fed into his still rather incredible ability to interact with and guide that talent once assembled. Along with the subsequently issued RELAXIN’, WORKIN’ and STEAMIN’, COOKIN’ completes a mammoth textbook on advanced post-bop studies. These records essentially capture the Quintet’s live book in the deep atmosphere of Rudy Van Gelder’s studio environment, and it’s still hard to believe that the pair of sessions that spawned this series was basically a contractual obligation (Davis was leaving Prestige for Columbia due to his success at the 1955 Newport Jazz Festival). It’s also difficult to fathom how so much talent could exist in such close quarters without triggering a major seismic occurrence. For starters, the hard fluidity of John Coltrane’s tenor contrasts impeccably with the lush ache of Davis’s signature tone, and Red Garland’s faultless piano anchors, accents and solos with a brilliant nonchalance. One of the greatest of post-bop pianists and somewhat underrated in my estimation, Garland was never a busy player, knowing just when to lay back and when to push. While an unabashed swinger, he also coupled an innate detachment with his intensity. Bassist Paul Chambers (Mr. PC) and drummer Philly Joe Jones are justifiably legendary, and along with Garland they earned the moniker The Rhythm Section. Chambers was a master at holding down a bold rhythmic line while weaving in appropriately understated bits of personal expression, and Jones stands as one of the few drummers that could routinely make cymbal play and even brush work feel exciting. Even in the most rudimentary of support situations, this pair never falls back on just what’s expected, with the element of surprise being key, and the way they snake around Garland’s gorgeous solo on COOKIN’s opener “My Funny Valentine” still sends chills up my spine fifty-five years after its recording. Upon consideration, Davis’s solos might be my favorite isolated element on this whole record, thick and forceful constructions that broaden his style from the airy yet sharp coolness for which he is most associated. The four tracks on COOKIN’ include a standard (“…Valentine”), original work (Davis and Garland’s “Blues By Five”), a piece by Sonny Rollins (“Airegin”) and a closing medley (combining Davis’s lively “Tune Up” with an exceptionally pretty take on Benny Carter and Spencer Williams’ “When Lights Are Low”). In case you’re wondering, Coltrane is in a very fine groove, and the closely miked warmth ensures that the saxophonist’s huge presence doesn’t overwhelm any of the record’s multiple subtleties. Unlike some of the more labor intensive multi-disc box set reissues of Davis’s later material, the four records named above provide a very approachable dosage of a vital bit of ’50 jazz history, and if you are a neophyte to the rewards of these grand recordings or to Davis as a whole then COOKIN’ is the perfect place to start.



A few new things in the bin this week.

Guided by Voices: Live at Daytron 3lp

Isis: Oceanic 2lp

Nadja/Armchair Migrane: Transmit Acousique Abstraction One LTD 200

Robert Pollard: Space City Kicks

Joseph's Picks Of The Week 1/28/11 - The Decemberists and Bad Brains

Much is being made about The Decemberists’ scaling down into a simpler, catchier, poppier Americana-steeped presentation on their outstanding new album THE KING IS DEAD. And that’s not a bit surprising after the proggy, metal-tinged rock-theatrical grandiosity of THE HAZARDS OF LOVE, a masterpiece of a record that’s ambitiousness is going to age like fine cheddar. But some of the hullabaloo seems a bit or a lot overblown, depending on my mood. Because these chaps and a chick have always been excellent at crafting concise melodic song statements; it’s just that until now this characteristic was a selectively used quill in their quiver. CASTAWAYS AND CUTOUTS had “July, July!”, HER MAJESTY “Billy Liar” and “Song For Myla Goldberg”, PICARESQUE “Sixteen Military Wives”, and THE CRANE WIFE “O Valencia”. Really, only HAZARDS and the rather slept on classic THE TAIN EP essentially eschew the band’s distinct pop sensibility in toto. If the above listed tunes count amongst yr favorites from this crew, then the new one should warm some considerable ear- cockles, for their appealing songsmanship is spotlighted front and center. Also, those that love the sparse strum of Colin Meloy’s more downtrodden side should fear not, for the man’s ability to achieve melancholy atmospherics without plunging into the dank soup-vat of maudlin tears is on strong display, particularly on the simply beautiful “January Hymn”. The biggest reason for Meloy’s lyrical success lies in his by now well entrenched bookish quality, often out-of-time and occasionally pleasingly obscure, where he comes off as a full-fledged fictioneer traversing choppy waves of woeful discontent, and when he’s depicting a bleak corner of some uncertain existence, his direct and nasally singing style paints him as a strong shouldered troubadour and not a spongy-damp emo-confessor. Now, another bit of hubbub directed at THE KING IS DEAD relates to the influence of early R.E.M., and while there are certainly tangible touches of ‘80s Athens goodness to be found herein, I frankly believe that if KING guest contributor Peter Buck had played an anonymous role there’d be much less talk of this link (though Meloy referencing R.E.M. in recent interviews surely plays the largest part in amplifying this connection). Ultimately, the descriptions of newfound overt Americanaisms make the most sense to my lobes, and this is certainly the group’s least English-sounding record. Gillian Welch’s sturdy and pretty vocal contribution deepens this welcome new wrinkle, and I can’t deny that I do detect brief instrumental flashes that are somewhat remindful of Wilco. But whole big chunks of KING feel influenced by the sprawling hugeness of The Band. Maybe I’m still under the spell of seeing/hearing them cover “The Weight” (with Mavis Staples) a few years back, but upon reflection there is a clear understanding of simplicity and depth in the track-list of this new LP that feels very much informed by the shared experience and knowledge of Hudson, Helm and company. If after all of this you find yrself still skeptical over The Decemberists so-called “new direction”, please let me ask that you forget that The Who once released an overstuffed and rotten record called TOMMY. Actually, let me start over and please ask you to ignore that I think TOMMY is a stone overblown stinker and instead pay special attention to their fine (if mildly flawed) studio follow up, the sensible retreat into relative hard-rock economy, 1971’s WHO’S NEXT. Because that album illustrates how sometimes a considerable retrenchment proves to be the smartest maneuver, and THE KING IS DEAD, from beginning to end, shows The Decemberists know just how to rip it up and reframe the parameters of their sound. Bully for them.

For a long time I was mildly resistant to the strength and velocity of Bad Brains. Part of the reason lied in the reverential treatment they received, with many fans awarding them the title of Undisputed Champions of American Hardcore. Problem was, some of us did dispute this accolade, and the simple act of doing so resulted in a lot of hot collars, hurt feelings and drawn lines. While deep down I knew that the Brains were indeed one of the finest and most important exponents of the original hardcore wave, I still held them at arm’s length, choosing instead to vocally advocate for a host of other HC bands, Minor Threat, Big Boys, Negative Approach, Faith, Void and SS Decontrol to name just a handful. Factor in that Bad Brains were an undeniably self-destructive bunch that frankly overstayed their welcome with endless tours, break-ups and suspect comeback records that were predictably touted by the faithful as a return to form, and it should be easy to see why I kept these guys at a personal distance for so many years. Their self-titled 1982 release on the ROIR label, originally available only as a cassette, was the one Brains’ document from their original, pre-metallic shift that would inspire a periodic personal indulgence; easily fitting into a shirt pocket and packed with both muscular spring-coiled riff-mauling and leavening doses of reggae, it was tailor made for abusing a car’s cheap speakers while high-tailing it to some specious destination. In the intervening years I’ve come to terms with the group’s still somewhat outsized rep, understanding that their most passionate devotees will continue to unabashedly stump for their rarified place in the pantheon of loud and fast, likely for all eternity. So it’s now just as easy for me to heartily recommend the LP edition of the ROIR tape as it once was to give the high-hat to the band that spawned it. Ira Kaplan explains in his short but smart liner notes how Bad Brains initial reception was significantly less than adulatory, a circumstance they shared with nearly all of their hardcore peers. Plenty of style victims simply couldn’t countenance the raggedy dishevelment that was inherent to the original HC blast, and many others misinterpreted the wild restructuring of basic punk principles as a reactionary tendency, to say nothing of those that had fallen into keyboard and synthesizer hell. Much has been made of the Brains’ origins as jazz-fusionistas, and this obviously chops-heavy groups’ examination of simplicity, density and speed certainly stood out in a genre that was never lauded for its diversity. At their best, Bad Brains’ had irreplicable traits that left nearly all of their followers wanting. These numerous disciples could bring the heavy, but they simply lacked the subtleties of personality that defined Bad Brains’ early work as a solid break from the norm. By the time I became acquainted with the punk/HC/u-ground scene, this New York via DC unit was ensconced as royalty. What a difference five years makes. My introduction to the band came through I AGAINST I, released in 1986 on the SST label, and that album registered in my consciousness as a pretty cool weird hard rock record, one that’s aged quite well in retrospect. A few weeks later I heard the raging third version of their anthem “Pay To Cum” while watching Marin Scorsese’s cinematic quirkfest AFTER HOURS and without the aid of the end credits would’ve never guessed it was the same band. That version of “Pay To Cum” is a centerpiece of the ’82 LP, presenting their roughshod precision in all of its wigged-out glory and helping to make that album an absolute cornerstone of American punk. There, I said it. The early era of Bad Brains, from their fantastic first 7’’ up to the faulty but worthy Ric Ocasek-produced ROCK FOR LIGHT LP is essential listening for anyone curious about the tricky contours of American punk’s subterranean developments, and if you’re a newcomer to Bad Brains or to the style as a whole, their full-length debut is a great place to start.