Hüsker Dü and the Year 1985

Hüsker Dü’s final two long players for the SST imprint, New Day Rising and Flip Your Wig, were both issued in 1985. It would be a year later that Candy Apple Grey was released through Warner Brothers, marking the Hüskers’ major label debut. And while there would be a slight sonic shift overall, the difference between “Plans I Make,” the last song on New Day and the first track on Flip delineates the group’s increasingly fractured approach to song craft.

“Plans I Make” is, for all intents and purposes, an instrumental. Surely, some of the guttural howling makes it through the mix as an exasperated band laments figuring happenings that don’t actually occur. The song doesn’t necessarily define the group’s sound, but it does tie it back to an earlier hardcore-based inception of the outfit. Granted, even at its most distorted and thrashing, Hüskers still trafficked in traditional song craft.

Hearing “Flip My Wig” right after “Plans,” though is a dramatic shift. While the two songs could have very easily emerged from the same album, ending one effort with the noisier track and beginning the following album with a song that approaches some of the most radio styled of the group’s recording is a shock. It’s probably for that very reason that WB sought to release Flip instead of waiting until the following year to issue Candy.

Hüskers, despite what some hardcore (the genre as opposed to steadfast) fans might think of the band’s progression, need to be given credit for sticking it out with SST through another release. Obviously, the Greg Ginn helmed imprint would eventually fold. With or without Hüskers that would have occurred. But the Minnesota trio remained true to those that helped it out. Well, or a time, at least.

Either way, the march towards falling apart that this progression of Hüskers’ albums represents is usually couched in terms of Bob Mould and Grant Hart butting heads about song craft and what share each received. The supposed fracturing then can be heard even on Zen Arcade, the group’s first SST long player and a personal favorite.

Whatever the case actually is, 1985 was a huge year for Hüskers in (creative) output. Nothing really beats the visceral howl that Zen Arcade presented listeners with, but apart from “Hate Paper Doll,” there’s not too much to object to. And considering the fact that these two albums released in 1985 count as eighty plus minutes of music, that’s astounding.

Play Time: Inside Buildings, Life's a Mess (Part One)

With the international success following around Jacques Tati’s two previous films, Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot (1953) and Mon Oncle (1958), there shouldn’t have been too many problems leading up to the release of what should be considered the director’s masterpiece. Produced over a few years during the sixties and finally released in 1967, Play Time, from its inception was rife with troubles.

Continuing to critique modernity’s encroachment on the individual, Tati sought structures in and around Paris that would be well suited for such a satirical film. The director needed enough open space for his wide shots to take in all of Hulot’s surroundings and its inherent inanity. After figuring an airport and office building as indispensible portions of the storytelling process, Tati figured that public spaces might not actual work when shooting began.

“It was not possible to stop the traffic at Orly airport, nor interfering with drugstores or supermarkets activities. Therefore, we had to create the whole set from scratch. So, I invented it.”

And thus, Tatuville was born. It wasn’t a proper town, obviously, but there were entire buildings constructed replete with power sources, air conditioning and other assorted working accoutrements. Erected on some back lot a studio maintained, even the set building proved problematic after extensive plans had been drafted. There was even a cessation to work at one point due to lack of funds.

In order to finish the film, which eventually bankrupted the production company that Tati was working with, the director mortgaged his home. And when that wasn’t even sufficient, he sold the rights to a few of his films in order to build enough capital. Shooting Play Time ostensibly ruined Tati financially. And while the film was and remains a beautiful success, the emotional toll inflicted on the man probably can’t be aptly explained.

All the trouble Tati went through, though, should point to the import which structures were to have in the film. And if one recalls Mon Oncle, the house prominently featured in that film was basically a character all itself. All the action revolved around it, prompted the action of characters and served as sedentary comic relief – an amazing achievement.

And while that home was built from scratch in much the same way Tativille was, the latter effort was unquestionably more intricate. But that only means that there was the possibility that the structures would work better when shot on film.

Walking Tall: A Well Meaning Cop Gets His Ass Handed to Him

There’s a wealth of B-movie actions flicks that supposedly informed the likes of Quentin Tarantino and his consort. Whether or not the various lists floating around the internet have been comprised with any sort of real reference guide remains to be seen. But that’s how I stumbled upon Walking Tall. No, it’s not the Dewey Cox storey and its’ not the 2004 version of the story, replete with muscle bound former wrestlers. But this 1974 action flick has a high enough gore quotient to make a must-see for at least a few weirdoes out there.

As a disclaimer, the fact that Walking Tall clocks in at over two hours is an abomination. There’s no need for such long windedness when dealing with a redemption tale of this nature. What’s more is the fact that with all that time, there’re a number of characters who don’t actually get fleshed out, just appear every once in a while and than disappear just as quickly. That being said, the basic premise is pretty unique despite the film following something of a traditional arc.

Directed by School of the Art Institute of Chicago alum, Phil Karlson, who was also responsible for efforts like Ladies of the Chorus, the first staring role for one Marilyn Monroe, as well as a film starring Elvis, turned in a southern tale of money, booze, gambling and violence.

In the lead role, Joe Don Baker, a familiar face if not a familiar name from work as varied as Cool Hand Luke and Fletch, becomes Tennessee sheriff Buford Pusser. The entire affair is apparently based upon experiences Pusser himself went through. Hopeful, there wasn’t as much death and dismay.

But basically, Pusser returns to his family’s farm after a go at the professional wrestling circuit which found the man beholden to whoever held the most money. It’s premise obviously sets up Walking Tall for a few skirmishes. And within the first half hour, it’s apparent that Pusser’s hometown has undergone a good deal of change since he left.

Desiring a proper and lawful town to raise his to children, Pusser runs for sheriff. He wins, ‘natch, but only after a few public scrapes with the presiding law official.

Once in office, Pusser attempts to stave off the corruption that’s inundated the city. But with all the perks these crooked business dealings have brought all involved, it’s got to be a tough battle. And that explains Pusser carrying around a giant log to beat up bad guys with.

The pacing and story might not totally enthrall all viewers, but Walking Tall is certainly a film that could have only been birthed during the seventies.

Lech Kowalski's D.O.A.: A Punk Invasion

Assembling random grainy footage doesn’t always make for a great film – even in retrospect.

The most enjoyable moments from Lech Kowalski’s first foray into the realm of feature length documentaries, the 1980 film D.O.A. suffers as a result of it covering the subject matter which makes it interesting. There can’t have been too much help in getting materials and travel expenses arranged for Kowalski and what appears to be a relatively hefty crew for such a film.

By the time the film began shooting in 1978, it could be argued that punk was already done for. Most of its ‘stars’ were attached to major labels (the Clash and the focus of this film, the Sex Pistols). So, in some ways, D.O.A. really functions as nothing more than a detailing of the Pistols seven dates here in the States.

Surely, there’s footage from a few other bands – Terry and the Idiots, an inept Brit band who wouldn’t have ever been registered in history if not for this documentary. But some footage of the X Ray Spex is entertaining as Kowalski is able to cut from a performance in  a practice space to a live show without the viewer realizing what’s happened until the camera pulls out.

Roughly the same technique is used for a few other portions of the movie. It doesn’t work at all when levied upon a brief performance by Cleveland’s the Dead Boys. Even the audio during the performance is lifted from the group’s album as opposed to be live.

The edits are at times nothing short of jarring. And when documenting the Pistols last performance in the States, which would actually wind up being its last performance until reformed in the nineties, splicing together various live shows doesn’t serve the whole. People are playing their instruments on screen while audible in the soundtrack and vice versa.

It was an early effort from this filmmaker, though. So, as long as the same missteps weren’t prevalent again and again in later work, no harm done.

Folks might find a great deal of this work relatively boring if not great fans of the bands documented, but seeing ‘punks’ from the seventies explain why the Pistols were good or bad is entertaining. Having Sid and Nancy nod off repeatedly on camera is a bit less fun, but again, a useful historical document that the world might be able to function without. But at least its here for the watching.

 

Jim Basnight: Jump When Opportunity Pops

Yeah, yeah…Seattle, the Year Punk Broke, whatever. There was music up there decades prior to the media frenzy that ostensibly shaped what ‘indie’ was to become during the ensuing years. That being said, there’s a decent chance that working through some linear history of that scene, those Sub Pop groups would come somewhere after Jim Basnight in a proper progression of history.

Probably some people will disagree – as is their right. And after hearing the (kinda) recently released We Rocked & Rolled: 25 Years Of Jim Basnight & The Moberlys the argument to drop this guy into the town’s music history might be a bit obtuse. But there are moments scattered all over the place on the retrospective that move past the glitzy glam of Bowie towards an almost punk thing. “She Got Fucked,” off a single not included here makes the argument best. But before Basnight worked up this Kinks cum Hoople group, he fronted a group called the Meyce.

That band was lucky (talented?) enough to open for the Ramones during the New Yorker’s first trek through the Northwest. And apparently, the guys back east were smitten with the Meyece to the point that Joey wore a t-shirt sporting the name of a zine the guys ran in Rock ‘n Roll High School.

Either way, Basnight and the subsequent ensembles he worked with weren’t ever able to hit on a chart topper – although, he apparently sat in with Johnny Thunders on bass for a while, which should be figured as cooler than having a hit no one remembers anymore.

Moving back and forth between coasts eventually burned Basnight out and he returned to Seattle in ’92. An auspicious time one might figure. But of course, the bands of that moment weren’t engaged with Rasperries styled rock nuggets, leaning more towards sad sack Sabbath jams than anything else.

Undeterred, Basnight wrangled another group of players and has since about that time maintained a ridiculous touring schedule – one befitting a younger group and one with more commercial viability.

There isn’t a point to all of this – Basnight’s retrospective garnered a bit of buzz, but nothing really career making resulted. He didn’t receive a second wind like Roky Erikson or whatever other dinosaur you’d like to insert here.

Hearing all of these tracks – “Oppurtunity Knocks” specifically – points to how keeping a positive attitude, for no particular reason, could be beneficial. You might not like that song too much (me either), but Basnight surely enjoys playing it.

Chris Knox and Toy Love: Kiwi's Wrecked By the Industry

First things first. The Clean are the most compelling group to have every come out of New Zealand. That being said, the various projects Chris Knox has worked up over the last three decades easily meets and perhaps bests the importance of that aforementioned group. That’s not meant to mitigate the song craft that Knox and his compatriots in the Enemy, Toy Love or Tall Dwarfs (sic) exhibit, but the Clean’s just better to listen to.

And while Tall Dwarfs remain the highest profile project that Knox has engaged with – apart from ostensibly running the Dunedin branch of New Zealand’s Flying Nun label – it’s the band that came just before that impact the local scene a more than latter work.

Toy Love, after coming out of some sort of DIY daze, recorded a disc with WEA, a major label down under. Released in 1980, the self titled album didn’t do much to make Knox a household name or even fill his pockets with loot. Part of that, according to Knox and his band mates, was that the album’s post production worked to smooth out any perceived rough edges on the part of label honchos. The funny thing is that, if the band retained those original tapes and issued them as they pleased, there’s a pretty decent chance Toy Love would have done decently in the charts.

But this experience served to inform following business decisions on the part of Knox, who willfully avoided majors afterwards.

With all that vitriol, hearing the Toy Love album thirty years on isn’t as difficult as one might expect. There’s certainly a slighter sound than one might have imagined as the in between step bridging a punk group to Tall Dwarves. But “Photographs Of Naked Ladies Bedroom” is not only risqué in its lyrical content, but there’s a nagging keyboard note that drones on a bit longer than most could figure as acceptable in a major label boardroom. Either way, the disc isn’t a bummer and actually moves on to gift listeners with a few other nuggets.

“Ain't It Nice” finds Toy Love move towards a punk pacing even if the absence of slashing guitars separates this effort from the even less commercial sound. “Frogs” is even faster. And the album closer, “Fast Ostrich,” while seemingly dropping the beat every once in a while could be mistaken as an outtake from Texas (funky) hardcore band the Big Boys.

It’s not all smash hits, but it’s not worth lamenting fowled up production problems. Get an earful.

Black Flag: Damaged after Four More Years

I’ve gushed – in the past and will continue to do so – about the importance of Black Flag as not just a band, but as the people who helped solidify viable touring routes through the States. The band released its own music – as well as the work other important figures, like the Minutemen. And while there are unquestionably a number of people who hail the earlier recordings from Greg Ginn and company, sans Henry Rollins, Black Flag existed longer with the East Coast native on vocals than without him.

That alone should solidify Rollins’ import even if he’s a muscle bound, over read, disposable figure at this point.

For those listeners who still find the Keith Morris and Chavo era of the band more their liking, there’s not too much to dissuade them from that opinion. Those songs and the accompanying performances are as strong as anything else recorded in the seventies. Of course, the Black Flag really impacted the nation’s punk scene with Rollins in the van.

So even if the Ginn led ensemble had existed for three or four years prior to the release of Damaged in 1981, it was with this album that its legacy was cemented. Even the cover image of Rollins standing in-front of a smashed up piece of glass has become iconic in the punk world. Granted, it’s odd he donned the cover of the disc seeing as other members had served in the band longer, but it seems even at that point Rollins was destined to be star. Maybe that accounts for his short shorts.

Either way, Damaged counts a clutch of venomously classic tracks replete with enough sing along choruses and choked out guitar noises to please every punk from coast to coast. Again, given the band’s history and rotating line-up, it’s odd to some of these songs reworked. “Six Pack” wasn’t ever Black Flag’s strongest moment – and it’s still not with Rollins on vocals. But it does count as one of the group’s more anthemic outbursts.

With that track and “Rise Above” representing rehashed Black Flag glory, songs like “No More,” with its slow, plodding opening seems to presage future permutations the ensemble would roll through. It’s occasionally hard to understand what point that excruciating floor tom section is for. But if you get an earful of some Bad Brains’ introductions, it all makes sense. So while First Four Years is for the collector, completist and fanatic, Damaged has a bit for everyone.

Do Tigers like catnip?

Have you ever wondered if big cats like tigers and lions like catnip? Well, wonder no more. The following video shows how kitties of all sizes love the green stuff so much they roll around in it, not too different from the typical house cat. Makes me wish there was something like this for humans. My only question is: what's wrong with Joseph?

 

We Jam Econo: Why the Minutemen Rule

Whereas the Ramones documentary was willfully a bummer, only the final moments of We Jam Econo, a film detailing the career of San Pedro’s the Minutemen, are downer notes. But that should be expected. After all, the bands lead singer and guitarist died just after one of the Minutemen’s highest profile gigs.

It’s odd to hear Mike Watt, the band’s bassist and current member of the Stooges, reminisce about such a moment as covering a Television song on-stage with REM and then hearing about his friends death. But Watt, more so than anyone in that aforementioned Ramones feature, comes off like a regular guy. One might attribute that to being, not a New Yorker or a Los Angelino, but from some town south of Hollywood’s nonsense. An place set off by itself which perhaps allowed for the royal stew that became the Minutemen.

As the second album released by Black Flag’s imprint, SST, the Minutemen’s Paranoid Time, released in 1980, was really detached from the burgeoning hardcore scene. The speed was left in tact, but the wit and intellect of D. Boon, Watt and George Hurley is immediately significant when contrasted with the heavy handed second wave punk bands then cropping up around the country.

Not to denigrate the likes of hardcore’s cognoscenti, but for all the brute strength and effort working towards a unified scene, it would have made more sense for an all inclusive approach, aped by the Minutemen both musically and politically, to have resulted in a positive force. And a step forward.

The film, details this pretty well with interviews ranging from the Circle Jerks’ Keith Morris to members of the Urinals and even rock writer (and song writer for Blue Oyster Cult) Richard Meltzer. The wide swath of folks who apparently appreciated even the truncated career of the Minutemen is astounding. And is really why the moment these Pedro natives got on stage with REM could have been a watershed moment for American rock music.

Boon’s death, oddly enough, really coincided with the end of America’s proper flirtation with punk and hardcore in any sense of a mainstream product – not that the band was set to change up its style to sign to a major label. But after 1985 – as documented in American Hardcore – music shifted and resulted in the birth of what would arise in the wake of this music coming out of punk’s heyday. So, whatever you think of Seattle, that wouldn’t have happened if not for SST and the Minutemen.

End of the Legacy: The Ramones on Film

The history of rock and or roll is littered with sad sack tales of unfulfilled dreams, missed chances and the like. Of course, the Ramones never attained a mainstream sort of  success associated with the upper echelon of the rock cognoscenti like the Stones or whoever else. But the band coming out of some borough that wasn’t Manhattan still received international acclaim and could easily be pegged as the reason that punk eventually spread out across the globe.

End of the Century, completed after Joey Ramone’s death, although there’s a wealth of interviews that he’s included in, should have come off as some sort of positive vibe on the punk thing. Sure, they weren’t billionaires, but unless pissing away money on smack or cocaine, each player should have made a hefty sum of money.

Instead, the films director’s Jim Fields and Michael Gramaglia decided to focus on the problems resulting from touring together for something like twenty one years. Admittedly, there were a great deal of conflicts, but the end of the story could have very easily been something like, the band wasn’t necessarily musically adept, but affected change in not just the music industry, but music.

A weird subplot emerges as Johnny apparently stole away Joey’s women. The two are still married and the women’s voice can be heard a bit off screen. It’s one of those moments that should find viewers slack jawed and wide eyed. There’s substance here, but it’s occasionally obfuscated with some weird rock star nonsense.

Of course, Dee Dee Ramone is as interesting as any other miscreant rock has birthed and not as immediately distasteful as Sid Vicious. And while his run ins, uncountable though they each may be, with drug problem made for a decent way to tie in Johnny Thunders and the rest of the junkie crowd in New York, it detracted from the potential of the film to uncover some of the artistic bent associated with early punk groups. Suicide’s Arturo Vega’s various comments about art and the band’s understanding of his vision would have made a compelling addition to the film instead of a brief tangent.

Most distasteful was the ending of the film which finds Dee Dee sauntering down a hotel hallway after being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of fame while text floats on the screening figuring his death a few weeks later. It was a bummer, but it didn’t have to be. Enlightening either way.

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