In the bin today!

Best Coast-Make You Mine 2x7"

Ding-Dongs-4 Song Ep

the King Kahn & BBQ Show-We Are The Ocean 7"

Radar Eyes-Miracle 7"

Ty Segall-Spders 7"

Mark Sultan-Livin My Life 7"

Mark Sultan-Whenever I want

Terry Malts-Something About You 7"

Joseph's Picks Of The Week 11/11/11 - El Rego and Spectrals

Some bemoan the internet and file-sharing in particular as harmful to not only the Recording Industry, but also to struggling musicians and the smaller brick and mortar music stores that stock their wares. I understand and don’t necessarily disagree with that line of thinking, but can’t help seeing it somewhat differently. Take for example the steady stream of choice (re)discoveries from Africa. Back in the day, non-empowered global consumers interested in exploring the sounds of that most excellent continent’s more commercially oriented movements so often had to be satisfied with whatever the big record companies deigned to release. Sure, smaller labels like the late John Storm Roberts’ absolutely crucial Original Music were dedicated to tirelessly documenting numerous pockets of the African scene, but if a shopper didn’t have foreknowledge of these happenings then she had to rely upon either stumbling luckily over them in the racks, a dubious likelihood at best, or getting hipped to them through the pages of a music press that even twenty-five years ago was far more interested in chasing after the Next Big Homegrown Disappointment than in spotlighting a master like Francis Bebey. Meanwhile, musicians were struggling as always seems to be their lot. In the new millennium however, a Fela fan with ‘net access can get online and in a matter of hours experience the “dry guitars” of ‘50s-‘60s Kenya, soak up the majestic Ghanaian highlife of Alhaji K. Frimpong, cherry pick a couple volumes from the still astounding ETHIOPIQUES series, discover the massively popular Malian Afro-Latin innovators The Rail Band, and then mellow out with the classic PIRATES CHOICE by Senegal’s Orchestra Baobab. And instead of the non-capitalistic sharing of this material killing off the market for actual commercially released product like so many doomsayers had predicted there seems to be more than ever an intriguing flow of geographical or stylistically themed compilations and lovingly annotated single-artist retrospectives in the racks for deep consideration. A few years back it was Ethio-jazz master Mulatu Astatke who blew up large in part due to his work’s inclusion on the soundtrack to Jim Jarmusch’s excellent film BROKEN FLOWERS. Who knows who is next, but it just might be Theophile Do Rego, better known as simply El Rego aka Benin’s Godfather of Funk. Daptone Records has compiled a smoking batch of this key figure’s stuff, originally waxed on 45s, some of which were first collected (credit where it’s due) on CD by the amazing label Analog Africa, home of such delights as AFRICAN SCREAM CONTEST and AFRO-BEAT AIRWAYS. El Rego’s style will seem instantly familiar to anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of U.S. funk. Unsurprisingly, James Brown is the music’s biggest influence, but “Feeling You Got”, the opening cut on this self-titled 12-track LP also explores more basic and less dense dance-craze territory like Archie Bell & the Drells’ masterpiece of synchronized motion “Tighten Up”, a motif El Rego will continue to exploit on the songs “Djobime”, “Hessa” and “Cholera”. Perhaps “Feeling You Got”’s most interesting attribute, in addition to its infectious groove-mining and exhortations to “sock it to me!”, is the seemingly left-field use of accordion, frankly not an instrument often associated (outside of zydeco) with sweaty rhythmic throwdowns. The employment of squeeze box does point to Benin’s history of French colonization, however, and this is a huge part of the record’s surplus value, showing that the growth of 20th Century African popular music was as complex and convoluted, i.e. non-purist as anywhere else on the globe. But while much more than a local sensation, El Rego was predominantly geared toward the make-it-or-break-it logistics of the bandstand; this is live music, recorded cheaply but warmly with no overdubs as an uncut display of what a listener would experience if they dropped a few ragged coins and stepped out onto the dance floor. In this regard El Rego and the Commandos aren’t so much interested in showing off just how stylistically varied they could be; instead the songs are far more inclined to examine and adjust structures already proven to be successful. This shouldn’t imply that the music here is monochromatic. To the contrary, “E Nan Mian Nuku” is a slow-boil mid-tempo monster featuring call-and-response vocals and a massive sax solo, and “Vive Le Renouveau” is a bluesy lament that can’t help but betray El Rego’s ambivalence toward the Benin revolution, a movement that for practical purposes here can be summed up as “all work and no play”, not the happiest of environments for a man who made his living as a nightclub performer. Yes, there are enough grunts, shouts and hollers on EL REGO to please any James Brown hardliner, and in fact one of the coolest moments on the whole disc is the atypically down-tempo moodiness of “Ke Amon-Gbetchea”, which begins with a sly tip of the oh-so-suave hat to Brown’s magnificent early classic “I Don’t Mind”. But there’s also a very fine guitar solo on “Kpon Fi La”, fantastic keyboard and sax on “Achuta”, the frenetic playing of “Cholera” and the basically flawless party igniter of “Do Do Baya”. If EL REGO has a tangible shortcoming, it might just be that all of these songs were recorded for 45s, a fact that’s certainly no crime but does indeed leave a wee bit to be desired when the party’s cranked up and cooking, the Commandoes having elevated smack-dab into that gorgeous groove-zone that dependably raises the intensity on the way to crafting one of those eternally memorable nights, and then…fade out. Well, it’s not a big deal, since like all truly great music El Rego’s sound is multi-purpose. Yes Virginia, it’s enjoyable while driving, walking, sitting and even lying down. Score another major achievement for funky Africa and to those distinguished kings and queens at Daptone for increasing the profile of this most deserved artist.



Upon first cuing up BAD PENNY, the full length debut from Spectrals, I was immediately beset with thoughts of Scotland’s Orange Juice, a band that I like (quite a bit actually) but will confess to not listening to in a couple years at least. Orange Juice played a crisp, chiming, unthreatening brand of cleanly delivered guitar-pop that pleased a whole lot of listeners fatigued by the lingering unruliness of punk. Naturally, this inspired a whole lot of punks to disdain them immensely. But this is all water long under the bridge. For listeners unfamiliar with Orange Juice I can throw out some other names in regard to Spectrals: The Smiths, hints of New Zealand’s The Chills, and the still extant UK-based Merge recording artists The Clientele. What these names all share is an abiding love if not necessarily reverence for the 1960s, and all (but one) can claim Great Britain as home. This puts a fine point on how the UK excels at just this sort of guitar-based melancholia-tinged riding my bike on a rainy day song-construction, and Spectrals peddles it with the youthful confidence of being defiantly out-of-vogue. BAD PENNY posits an alternate universe that shapes up like a weird facsimile of 1985, possessing the kind of grey-skied chilly landscape that decreed a highly intelligent, overly sensitive young genius who just couldn’t help but express his alienation, self-deprecation and preternatural maturity through the medium of songwriting simply must indulge his talent by spending hours (days, months even) crafting his opuses in a cluttered but almost maddeningly picturesque bedroom, photos tacked in scattershot fashion to the walls and taped to the smudged bureau mirror (snapshots all in black and white, natch), a threadbare rug partially covering a dusty, creaky hardwood floor, and towering stacks of books of poetry and neglected literary masterpieces (need I say all old and worn?), so naturally when it came time to actually record these tunes of exasperating brilliance for some small but deservingly hip label our headstrong auteur insists upon playing nearly all of the music himself, reasoning that it springs from his mind and he above everyone knows just how it all should sound. Perhaps this is arrogance in action, but if so it’s also par for the course. Yes, here in the real world Spectrals is the project of one 21 year old, namely Louis Jones, with assistance on drums and with production. This makes him just a smidge younger than Edwyn Collins at the point of YOU CAN’T HIDE YOUR LOVE FOREVER. But Orange Juice, while in retrospect obviously Collins’ band, were still until the very end an actual band; Spectrals is the show of one young man, and this makes BAD PENNY’s level of quality and assurance doubly impressive, though it denotes two different shades of musical authorship., e.g. Edwyn Collins is an old(er) school Nicholas Ray-type auteur while Louis Jones is a newer model, more like Robert Altman or better yet Peter Bogdanovich. Now that I’ve effectively lost most of the people reading this, let me get down to some more tangibly musical observations re: BAD PENNY. Jones as maestro squarely hits upon that very UK mode of mingling string-driven whimsy and jangle with an experienced crooner’s sense of weathered pomp. One thing about this particular strain of Brit-post-punk is its inherent theatricality; while Jones leans more toward Collins in delivery than the well-practiced melodrama of Morrissey, he is still very much in a Tin Pan Alley mode. This said, BAD PENNY’s first and biggest immediate flaw is an occasional sameiness in the songwriting, a fact that may matter more for some folks than it does me. Maybe I’m just in a slack-giving mood, but no; I tend to like it when a debut record leaves promise for the future instead of being so worked-out, fussed over and well-honed that it quickly instills a growing dread for the disappointment of the sophomore effort. To be blunt, BAD PENNY isn’t as good as the first long-player by Girls, but what Louis Jones does provide is a sense of promise for the future. And while I didn’t find Girls’ latest to be disappointing, I couldn’t help but notice that on FATHER SON HOLY GHOST Christopher Owens was already taking unexpected detours into the realms of latter-day Pink Floyd. Something tells me Spectrals isn’t going to go that route. To be clear, BAD PENNY is actually way above average, within hailing distance of great in fact, and anybody with a fondness for some or all of the above reference points should give this one a shot. As the eleven songs unwind, Jones displays an uncommon level of appreciation for classic pop songcraft, something he shares with Magnetic Fields, though Stephen Merritt’s love of Cole Porter/show tunes is basically absent from Spectrals’ sound. Instead, Jones is more like the kid transfixed by the Dionne Warwick records spinning on Mum’s hi-fi. Hmmm. Come to think of it, if there is indeed an American connection to Spectrals, it’s probably Burt Bacharach. Geez. Just when it seems like that dude might finally be old hat, along comes someone else to validate his relevance. Little animated birds have informed me that Spectrals’ early stuff is a little more reverbed-out and Spector-reverent than BAD PENNY’s relatively understated yet ultimately quite pleasurable pop, which leads me to surmise that Jones’ potential could take one of two possible avenues; in one he follows a smoothed-out later-Scritti Politti or Style Council-like path of diminishing returns, but in the other, he grows as a songwriter and performer in a manner not unlike David McComb of The Triffids, Mark Hollis of Talk Talk or even Mark Eitzel of American Music Club. Anglophiles are pissed!!! Let’s wait and see what happens.

Joseph's Picks Of The Week 11/4/11 (1st Anniversary Edition) - Void and The Faith

Void weren’t from the suburbs, they WERE the suburbs; Columbia, Maryland, the band’s birthplace, was one of the first planned communities in the USA. Hardcore punk is a lot of things to a lot of people, and for many alienated, outcast ‘80s youth living on the outskirts and in-betweens, it served as a soundtrack to isolation, anger, fear and disgust, a way to release pent up frustration and aggression over the twisted pile-up of circumstances that defined a world those kids never made. If ’77-punk was a return to the basic principles of the original ‘50s R&R explosion, that return was largely rejected by the culture at large in favor of the stadium rock cul-de-sac and the less disruptive, more synthetic palpitations of the new wave. ’77 punk was about stripping it down, but hardcore was very much about not fitting in. This was steadfastly if not yet self-consciously ‘underground’ music, rescued from languishing in the ghettoized “import” bins of record shops, handed down from older brothers and sisters, passed around on mix-tapes, blasted from cheap speakers while skateboarding or aimlessly driving the back roads on a Saturday night. Void most-assuredly did not fit into the dominant youth culture of the time, but what’s more the band felt somewhat estranged from the very sub-culture that spawned them. “Outcast rednecks” was Void guitarist Bubba Dupree’s self-assessment of the group in relation to the nearby Washington DC scene, and this type of hicks vs. city slickers divide is to be somewhat expected, as it indeed rears up with some frequency in hardcore’s early history (and at this late date is possibly romanticized a bit). But in the case of Void, their lack of assimilation into an established comfort-zone of collective non-conformity greatly assisted in defining the band’s furious, primal, assaultive music as a dictionary definition of hardcore as The Soundtrack of the Outcast. And for decades, unless you were an avaricious collector of bootleggy-type material, Void’s discography basically consisted of their three song contribution to the FLEX YOUR HEAD compilation and half of the FAITH/VOID split LP, both absolutely essential examples of first-wave US hardcore at its best. Well, Dischord Records’ reissue series has scored another massive success, culling the collected results from the band’s first two studio sessions, a pair of outtakes from the FAITH/VOID LP and two live tracks into a 34-song blitz of enlightenment spotlighting Void’s fascinating mania. SESSIONS 1981-83 lends the band an actual trajectory of growth, which is a risky move; part of Void’s potent mythology is how they seemed to explode fully formed in all their extremity into the hardcore chronology, i.e. just what in the hell were they putting in the water out there in Columbia? Sure, the highways and byways of the ol’ intertubes have long since provided exposure to much of Void’s formative material, all of it included on SESSIONS in superior sound quality, but the orderly, historical attention to detail presented on the reissue lessens the enigmatic aura of the band and presents them as possessing something comparable to a familiar punk rock life cycle. Early on, Void alternates between the expected punk lyrical topics (“Dehumanized”, “Organized Sports”, “Don’t Wanna Be Like You”, “My Rules”, “Authority”, even a nine seconds-long eponymous theme) and the darker, more defining bursts of negativity (“Get Out Of My Way”, “Explode” “Time To Die”) and most notably self-negation (“Draft Me Please”, “War Hero”) with nods to the songs that helped set them apart from their contemporaries (“All White Neighborhood”, “Black, Jewish, and Poor”). The first twenty tracks on SESSIONS, recorded in November of 1981, identify Void as being very much in the thrall of Black Flag, though looser (or sloppier, if you prefer) yet more palpably hardcore in delivery. They even wrap up the session with a half-goof cover of “Wasted”. Black Flag influenced a battalion of bands from this era, but the connection here runs deeper. Void were named after a Black Sabbath tune, and their eventual integration of more metallic/hard rock touches into the boiling caldron of their sound shows a kinship with the Flag that’s much more than cosmetic (it’s also been pointed out that Void’s music points toward that of Melvins). But what’s immediately apparent it how Void considered themselves near total outcasts in terms of class, race, surroundings and again, even in regard to their immediate peer group. Tracks 21-30 finds the band really hitting their stride as a unit; buzzsaw distortion and peals of feedback (Bubba Dupree comes as close as unadulterated hardcore gets to the embodiment of guitar hero, sounding at times like a less disciplined Greg Ginn), hyperactive drumming (the late Sean Finnegan simply did what he had to do, which was beat the hell out of his kit), barking, growling vocals (John Weiffenbach presides over this gestalt with the infectious confidence of youth [Punk!!!] and complete investment in the material), and truly bruising bottom end (a lot of early HC isn’t as much heavy as it is simply cacophonous and fast, and that’s cool, but Chris Stover’s bass gives us the best of both worlds). These ten cuts are the music from FLEX YOUR HEAD and the rather rare CONDENSED FLESH 7”, so if you know those songs they are here in full. Tracks 31-32 are outtakes from the FAITH/VOID session, finding them getting rawer, sludgier and more metallic, yet not at all in the hackneyed manner that plagued speed-core/thrash later in the decade. When these two blasts are considered with the rest of the FAITH/VOID side and the culminating live clips included here, Void distinguish themselves as the noisiest band (though again not self-consciously so) in the whole original hardcore wave. So it’s easy to understand why these guys get championed (along with Negative Approach and not much else) by contempo noise-scene kingpins like Wolf Eyes; Void reached the point of a band hanging right at the precipice of sonically shattering apart. This found them at a crossroads. Either embrace the full-on mayhem they were playing around with to plunge deeper into the uh, void, or step back, reconsider and reformulate the sound. They chose the latter route, recording a more rock based LP for Touch and Go that remains unreleased, though bootleg downloads are available in cyberland. Wisely, none of those tracks are included here. SESSIONS 1981-83 spotlights just how Void became the most extreme band in Hardcore and leaves the somewhat controversial denouement to the absolute completists (I downloaded it once, sampled a few tracks and promptly deleted it from my hard drive. I didn’t sound heinous or even bad actually, but it was certainly not the way I want to think about this amazing band. Some lost chapters should stay that way, even final ones). Instead, what this album erases in mystery it more than makes up for in both sheer quality and its usability as a snapshot of hardcore punk’s emotional breeding ground. Oh, and speaking of snapshots, I’ve read a little internet grumbling over the album design of this reissue. Frankly, this is just nonsense. Yes, the SESSIONS sleeve is much different than the B&W drawing/layout featured on their side of the FAITH/VOID cover and perhaps lacks the polish of more commercially conceived record jackets, but this is an utterly good thing. The color saturation in the LP jacket’s captured conception of an explosive stage dive reminds me quite a bit of William Eggleston if he were a HC-matinee shutterbug like Glen E. Friedman, and this distinctive visual quality is fitting for such an unusual group. In Steven Blush’s problematic but essential oral history AMERICAN HARCORE (the book not the movie), DC-scenester and ex-Marginal Man guitarist Kenny Inouye talks about how an extended debate transpired back in the day over whether Void were even any good. He goes on to add that he considers this extreme disparity of reaction as the “first sign of a great band”. I mostly agree. But I’d like to place this divide of opinion in a slightly different light; while Void is correctly categorized as a hardcore band, they ultimately seem to fit in better with a long line of musicians that continue to inspire a polarity of response; Hasil Adkins, Albert Ayler, The Stooges, Throbbing Gristle, Half Japanese, Jandek, Loren Mazzacane Connors, Arthur Doyle, Borbetomagus, Boredoms, Lightning Bolt, Bill Orcutt. Additionally, what these names all share is a detectable vibe of not fitting in, and SESSIONS 1981-83 promote Void as a visceral exposé in popularity as an odious sham, in the process expanding/transforming the band’s singular discography into more than just one of hardcore’s brief cathartic exclamation points. They now stand tall as a foundational aural text in the style. What a fabulous state of affairs.

As Void’s legend has grown over the years into something close to biblical proportions, The Faith’s reputation has suffered somewhat. I feel confident this is a just a temporary situation, and that a tide of deserved esteem regarding the band will soon reassert itself, for I can still clearly recall the collective anticipation on a drive home with friends from Fairfax, VA way back in ’89, SUBJECT TO CHANGE and FAITH/VOID having been freshly purchased, understanding that a couple simple spins upon the trusty turntable were going to significantly deepen and adjust perspectives while solidifying a whole lot of punk rock connections. As a “second-generation” DC band (though very much an integral part of the original ’80-’85 wave) The Faith featured members of The Untouchables (Alec MacKaye and Eddie Janney) and State Of Alert (Michael Hampton and Ivor Hanson), two of the groups upon which the whole initial Dischord impetus/ethos was founded. Post ’83 break-up, members of Faith went on to fortify such important DC units as Embrace, Rites Of Spring, Ignition, One Last Wish, Happy Go Licky and The Warmers. Furthermore, in ’89 Minor Threat, while surely important and influential, weren’t quite as monolithic a punk/HC/u-ground presence as they would soon become, Fugazi were just gaining their musical footing, and Ignition, featuring ex-Faith members Alec (Ian’s bro, don’tcha know) and Chris Bald were one of the most impressive, in fact maybe the best, of all the post-Revolution Summer bands, so finally catching up with The Faith in ’89 held something special. Ultimately, after getting well acquainted with both records it was driven home with direct clarity just how key the band was at ushering in stronger songwriting, an increased melodic sensibility that did nothing to weaken the music’s firepower, a far less formulaic rigidity coupled with improved dynamics, and lastly a broadened lyrical scope delivered through Alec’s distinct raspy holler. In a nutshell The Faith functioned as the lynchpin band joining first generation harDCore and the subsequent post-HC progressions that rumbled through the District in the later ‘80s and most of the ensuing decade, a connection that reinforces their importance as sorta incalculable and makes the fact that they’ve been persistently slept-on more than a bit bewildering. So it’s very nice to see SUBJECT TO CHANGE PLUS FIRST DEMO appear as part of Dischord’s recent spate of reissues. Over one year elapsed in the band’s brief but productive lifespan between the recording of this previously unreleased demo material (December ’81) and the 8-song 12” EP SUBJECT TO CHANGE in May of ’83, and the difference is substantial. Unsurprisingly, the demo is closer to standard hardcore, though it’s far from generic. In fact, if Faith had called it a day after recording these initial eleven songs, they would still easily be the equal of other 2nd-gen DC cohorts like Deadline and Artificial Peace. But the demo essentially stands as an early run-through of the songs that comprise the band’s side of the FAITH/VOID split. The May ’82 session that makes up half of that canonical monster is heavier in delivery than the demo material (which is a rougher, with more ragged edges), but the biggest detectible difference is basically an increase in instrumental confidence. If ye practice, ye wilt improve, thou knowest? If catchy and dexterous, The Faith was also a grouchy, dark hued band, and this found them to be a fitting, distinct contrast for Void. Thurston Moore, a huge fan of the group (his latest solo album DEMOLISHED THOUGHTS is titled after a lyric from “It’s Time”) has mentioned how Faith were in essence really a methodical continuation of the template DCHC style, and that’s right on the money. The eight tracks that make up SUBJECT TO CHANGE feature Eddie Janney formerly of The Untouchables on second guitar, and even though it was released after the band’s breakup, this is the stuff that had such a profound impact on the Dischord scene over the following decade. But please let us linger a bit over the addition of Eddie Janney. In hardcore, unless a band is heading for metal suckdom or they just have terrible songs, adding an additional guitar is pretty much a sure bet, allowing for exploration of melody and opening up the potential for increased instrumental elasticity while sacrificing little if anything in the departments of heaviness and density. For instance, Minor Threat briefly featured second guitarist Steve Hansgen on OUT OF STEP and Black Flag’s 1982 DEMOS finds Dez Cadena on rhythm (and is in my estimation one of the greatest of punk rock bootlegs). So to properly absorb the sound of Faith’s growth it’s necessary to begin with the second side of PLUS FIRST DEMO, which contains the entirety of their inaugural session; next switch to the band’s half of FAITH/VOID (temporarily resisting the urge to indulge the Void side for kicks. Just control yourself, m’kay?); and then lastly soak up the huge strides and assured finality that is SUBJECT TO CHANGE. Approaching their discography in this manner really sheds a fine light on just how talented and groundbreaking Faith actually was, for as detailed above the evidence of their influence is indisputable, their sound having become so seamlessly interwoven into the fabric of Dischordian activities that upon first hearing the music can sound instantly familiar, this fact likely being another attribute in their status as a consistently underappreciated entity. But instead of ruminating over clues as to why The Faith aren’t as revered as they were roughly twenty years ago, I’ll simply state that knowledge of the band’s oeuvre is a complete necessity in gaining a full-bodied appreciation of early American hardcore. If thou study, thou shalt understand. Capiche?