Paik: Simple Rock Sounds Abound

It’d be difficult to quantify the general cache Terrascope Music carries around. It was an internationally distributed magazine focused on disseminating criticism concerned with the most obscure sorts of music. And in the new millennium migrated to an online presence, all but withdrawing from a print medium. Perhaps it’s that shift, which so many other publications undertook, that’s mitigated Terrascope’s broad impact. But the outlet still posts on a semi-regular basis, so maybe there’s hope.

At one point, though, Terrascope endeavored to round up the greatest one hundred albums of all time. A fool’s errand, obviously. But that being said, it’s unquestionable that a bunch of folks, including myself, took a gander and went to go dig for new sounds. There are well know acts included – the Beach Boys are on there as are the Byrds and King Crimson. That being said, the most interest portions of the list are those counting relatively low key bands – or even bands that have recently been kicking around, just not getting huge. So, mentioning a band like Paik may or may not be a revelation.

Formed in 1996, the band’s Orson Fader was released eight years on. And from a cursory listen to “Tall Winds” and its introduction, understanding the band as a crew of veterans isn’t difficult. Trickling in and maintaining an almost painfully slow tempo throughout, the track doesn’t go anywhere significant, instead trading on its ability to glide along while sounding as if there’s nothing propelling the work apart from a brisk wind.

It’s all heavy sounds. Even the slowest, most serene moments of Orson Fader are related in the most twisted way possible. The aforementioned track – and really there’s almost no reason to discuss others seeing as each is built on roughly the same concept – drones on with a single chord serving as an anchor. And while most will cry krautrock, Paik is just working on finding a groove in the easiest way possible. Making it to the eight minute mark with the most fleeting sense of song construction isn’t a possibility for most, but Paik seems capacious of working with the minutiae of any one element and raving it into a giant rock track.

Elsewhere, the band must have flubbed its formula, but over the duration of Orson Fader there’s not too much distance from Paik’s hypothesis, so no real chance of failing. Some will understand this as esoteric music. But it’s really just the simple sounds of rock reduced to no end.

Naked on the Vague: Someone Wants Sad New Wave Somewhere

Bands coming from Australia – or anywhere that could potentially prove odd and foreign for American audiences – have been crafting exciting and obviously skewed variations on pop music since the seventies. For the most part, the folks gaining attention in the West have leaned towards to more palatable end of the spectrum-odd. So, figuring that, the group’s not granted relative fame in the States most be really odd. Kinda.

The Saints thought the Ramones had ripped them off. Not the case, but an interesting conclusion to arrive at. Understanding that sentiment, though, reveals that musical ideas travel across the world at unknowing paces. There’s no way that one thing happens in the States and is instantly transmitted to that island continent. Now, perhaps that’s the case. But if it is, that doesn’t really explain the recent Siltbreeze release Naked on the Vague’s Heaps of Nothing.

The group, beginning as a duo, enlisted a few other players for its second long player. Consisting of downer, new wave antics, the disc might have done a far sight better if it had been issued something like five or six years ago. While the no wave thing is still exerting its influence here on this album and in the States in a general way, the pervasive cheeseball new wave, eighties pop thing hijacks Heaps of Nothing.

“Sacred Youth,” like a great many forgotten efforts from the earlier groups working this territory, comes off like the Doors if that LA group donned all black and turned in its native mysticism for British sadness.

The dour tone of not just that song, but the entire album should really make any listener just dress up in gauzey, dark monochrome gear and go sit at some bar called the Dungeon, if such a thing exists in your neck of the woods.

What’s bizarre about Naked on the Vague is that none of Heaps really sounds like the band was trying to hard. It simply fell out of the band in practices and during the recording session. And while the eighties thing isn’t ever going to be a favorite of mine (nor should it be of yours), Naked on the Vague avoids coming off as contrived even if the place it hails from appreciates warm weather and sunshine.

It’d be hard to dismiss the disc out of hand. And even when considering its entrance into the Siltbreeze catalog as a surprise, Naked on the Vague presents something that someone wants somewhere. Somewhere sad.

Code Of Honor - "Fight Or Die" (Video)

It's hard to get an angle on Code of Honor. Its hardcore is all over the place and frequently moves beyond any perceived genre restrictions. "Fight to Die," as the title may hint at, is nothing short of a full on blast of eighties' styled HC.

The Accent - "Red Sky at Night" (Video)

One would think that the truly great psych-era classics have been unveiled somewhere by now. That apparently isn't the case. The Accent and its poorly titled song are just this side of incredible. Of course, it'd be easy to guess that the track counts as a lone career highlight.

S-Haters - "Research" (Video)

Tangentially tied to the Rudimentary Peni crew, S-Haters worked a similar musical territory. If that's your steez, take a listen. As a warning, there's some of the worst drumming ever recorded on this track. But the fact that the East Bay Ray cribbed guitar lines can over come that is a testament to the offering...

The ECM Influenced Guitar of Loren Connors

This is darkly beautiful stuff.

It’s rare in today’s experimental music cadre for a guitarist to play an electric instrument while restraining the tendency to let loose and churn out fuzz ridden, almost nonsensical noise. Playing free certainly has its place – and always will. But more often than not, it seems as if there’s a reduced number of emotions being exuded during those freeq outs. And while it might be said that introspective music is all dour, without too much aggressive reward, it’s still possible to relate anything from a pensive feeling to exuberance with the least amount of notes possible and in a controlled setting.

Loren Connors, whose recorded under a buncha different names and collaborated with Jim O’Rourke and the rest of the improvising cognoscenti, has been issuing work for the better part of thirty years. At first, Connors’ releases were all low run, obscure affairs, frequently pressed on seven inch records. Today, his music isn’t that drastically different, but the guitarist has reached a point in his career allowing for his music to be released through some of the underground’s most respected imprints – Table of Contents or otherwise.

In most writing on Connors, contrasting with a number of folks working in his milieu, there’s pervasive mention of a blues influence sitting next to an Irish one. And while the word “Air” accompanies a number of the guitarist’s song titles, there doesn’t seem to be much of that old world influence audible in his compositions. And as for the blues, Connors is a Western musician, so there’s no escaping that, but it doesn’t mean he sounds overly bluesy.

In fact, a good portion of As Roses Bow sounds as if it was ripped from any number of ECM albums dating back to the seventies. It’s Connors relaxed player, using open space as much as notes – and almost never full chords all at once – that makes the connection. Fortunately, there’s none of the new age accompaniment much of the ECM catalog comes bogged down with.

Pinpointing a proper contemporary, or even a lineage for Connors to fit into is pretty difficult. But once one realizes the man’s a poet in addition to being a guitarist, some of the Eastern influenced beat writers might seem at home spouting off atop of Connors’ guitar compositions.

He’s still recording and touring today as Connors has reached the ripe age of sixty. With all that experience, it wouldn’t be a shock to hear further explorations of a what a single guitar is capacious of. We’ll see.

The Cortinas: Punxploitation?

Even before issuing its first single, the Bristol based Cortinas had already garnered some national press for its simple, punky stylings.

Forming in 1976, the band counts as one of the earlier proponents of the genre over there on the other side of the Atlantic. Despite forming at a relatively auspicious time, though, the Cortinas never really impacted the scene.

Working with the Step One imprint, helmed by the Police’s manager and Mark Perry from Alternative Television, the Cortinas issued "Fascist Dictator" b/w "Television Families” in 1977. Of course, by that magical year, there was no shortage of bands working with similar source material. And while there’s an omnipresent mod influence – a later single sporting the song “Independence” ranks as an R&B track equal in tenacity to early recordings from the Jam – enough sneer was inserted into Jeremy Valentine’s vocals as to get the band over.

But even before the group issued any recordings, the Cortinas had created such a stir with its live show that the ensemble was gifted opening slots on bills with Television, Blondie and whoever else counted as a high profile act from the time period.

So, while the Cortinas aren’t today recalled the world over, unless hunkered down in some collector’s corner, the band was able to link up with CBS Records during the feeding frenzy that punk’s commercial viability resulted in. No, the Cortinas’ would have a hit record, but signing to the same label that also sported the Clash on its roster wasn’t a bad move – and guitarist Nick Sheppard would join the more famous group at the end of its career.

Before the Cortinas called it a day, though, its True Romances album, released in 1977, hit the shelves. The disc is pretty universally panned as a cop out. And it well maybe. But the musicianship exhibited on tracks like “Youth Club Dance” is something of a surprise after hearing the group’s earlier work. That being said, the lyrical bent of that track and its vocal delivery is really subpar, by any standards.

It’s still shocking to hear a band as adept as punk – and just good at writing simple songs – bog down its sound with pop aspirations and a generally ridiculous tone on its long player.

The release of True Romances, though, probably went a long way to punkers decrying the death of the genre – covering the Contours “First I Look At The Purse,” counts as a rare delight.

Debris: Surprising, Early Seventies' Weirdo Punk

After my griping about the way in which reissues have been framed to take in the CLE scene as an apt reference point, Debris pretty much removes any discontent which may have been touted around in my heart.

Again, the angle by which writers and labels talk about Debris’ Static Disposal seems like bunk. It’s all Beefheart and Stooges references with the pervasive Ubus being dunked in for supplemental explication. Appropriate? Surprisingly, yes.

Showing up in Chickasha, Oklahoma during the first half of the seventies basically relegated Debris to an early cessation of its career – not a surprising occurrence given the landscape surrounding the band’s hometown. And while I’ve not ever been to that particular part of OK, I have rambled about a little. The folks, of good Midwestern stock, are likely to lend a hand if they see one’s in need. As for open mindedness, though, there doesn’t seem to be a great reservoir of it stored up somewhere for random dispensation.

With all of that in mind, Debris’ cropping up in the place and time it did is something of a shock. The band even sported a sax player on some tracks. And for those of you who find this all too stimulating to pass up, the group’s work has been compiled on the aforementioned Static Disposal. Two versions exist. The first being the album all proper like with eleven songs and the reissued sporting an extra ten. It’s undoubtedly worth the price of admission – but why you say?

“Manhattan” might suffer a bit from its sense of grandeur. But even with those obsolete glam references, Debris’ caterwauling saxophone works a long way towards injecting even the least impressive sections of this composition – or any of them here – with some excitement.

That concept of excitement, though, works back through history. And while these folks were churning out challenging music in OK, it would seem that the experiments were conceived in a vacuum. There can’t have been too much out of town band traffic rolling through town. And really, that makes Debris all the more impressive.

In mentioning those omnipresent punk precursors, though, we’re all forgetting that its completely possible that Debris hadn’t come into contact with one or several of the genre’s avowed forefathers.

Either way, Static Disposal should go a long way towards sating collectors who have figured that pretty much everything has been dug up and reappropriated. Well, now it has.

MHz: A Columbus Supa-Group

Hearing Columbus dudes get air time around the turn of the millennium was truly amazing. It’d been the better part of a decade since Bone, Thugs ‘n Harmony did anything that folks paid attention to outside of Cleveland. And Columbus hadn’t exactly been churning out hits in the ensuing times. So, for MHz to gain a bit of momentum, RJD2 to get a record deal with a prestigious label, Copywrite head in the same direction and Camu Tao as well was all kind of inspiring. And while the expansion of the internet has been touted as giving random people the belief that their work, of whatever variety, to be heard. For me, it was this stuff. I hadn’t ever even entertained the notion of working out hip hop stuff (I still don’t), but in my life time there hadn’t ever been any sort of spotlight shined on the state I hailed from.

Along with all of this, illogic and Blueprint were kicking around. Heady times.

The proper release of a long playing MHz disc wasn’t really embraced by media outlets at the time. And while Table Scraps might sound like the time during which it was recorded, it doesn’t lessen the album’s quality.

Hailing from Ohio almost requires denizens to embrace a tongue and cheek attitude about pretty much everything. So, when Camu Tao says “Watch out Bad Boy, here we come,” on “Abosotively Posolutely” listeners can tell he’s joking. But only kinda.

The folks involved with MHz were well aware of the level of talent coalescing around the group. A few were childhood friends and others were a part of a relatively broad hip hop underground in town. But, each was able to come together in the interest of creating one of the most underrated (as a result of just not being properly distributed) rap discs from the early aughties. Table Scraps easily beats out any Atmosphere effort – from then or now. And that’s not hyperbole.

“World Premier” was the group’s first single, issued through Bobbito’s Fondle ‘Em imprint. And after hearing it stuck into the track listing here, it’s easy to hear why it was picked. There’s nothing approaching questionable on the disc, but the sparse beat serving as the track’s backing comes off as ethereal as it is aggressive when the snippet of electric guitar’s dropped in for the hook.

MHz summons everything from Mobb Deep to the Gravediggas and whatever other East Coast goodness can get tossed in there. Open your ears and hear.

The Twinkeyz: Sacto N(o)ew Wave

Honestly, I get insulted when acts from the mid-seventies find themselves compared to the Cle – Akron axis of bands (Ubus, Devo, et al). For the most part, no other cadre of groups, working so early in the decade, issued a consistent catalog. And Sacramento isn’t any different. Certainly, Ozzie has a place in record collector’s hearts. More over, Tales of Terror were a good band. But that was a bit later.

Either way, though, the Twinkeyz aren’t a bad group. But really don’t warrant the kind of enthusiasm the internet has poured forth. And certainly being contrasted with CLE bands doesn’t do the Cali group any good. Yeah, there’s a sort of robotic persistence of vision, but that’s subverted a bit by Donnie Jupiter’s vocals.

That being said, “Twinkeyz Theme” is a gnarled piece of electro-punk that does easily sit upon an elevated echelon of musical greatness akin to Devo’s finest moments. There’s a dumb thud pushing the track forward. And with the dancing synthesizer noises here and there, it’d be difficult to cue this track for anyone other than folks with most acute appreciation for weird.

While the Twinkeyz might be amidst a brief wave of appreciation, one of the more impressive aspects of the group has to do with being able to skirt most of the seventies’ hard rock nonsense that most other ensembles from the time were bogged down with. Even Rocket from the Tombs, while attempting some singer-songwriter stuff under the guise of being a rock band, fell into the trap. And Ozzie is pretty much all that influence. And while lauding a group from not falling into a then current musical pratfall isn’t the exactly the most complimentary thing, it has helped the group’s music age better than some of its cohort.

Figuring its strong suit, the Twinkeyz still give listeners work like “Wild Love.” Again, the track isn’t abhorrent, but without that odd and twisted guitar sound, it wouldn’t be too far beyond a bland power pop ditty. Of course, folks who are still hip to skinny ties might find the offering of comfort, but apart from that, there’s not much to keep listeners engaged here.

Home town aesthetics are often times difficult for outsiders to pick up on, so maybe that’s my problem (one of many). But between the Twinkeyz and Ozzie, it’d be hard to sell me on another band of that vintage hailing from Cali’s embattled capitol.

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