The Nomads: Shoulda Kept at It

When mentioning the Piedmont region music enthusiasts will probably immediately begin fawning over the likes of Rev. Gary Davis and Pink Anderson – the later being the namesake of Pink Floyd. But there was music coming out of the region even after those blues players resurfaced during the ‘60s.

Nestled on the boarder of North Carolina, moments away from Virginia, Mount Airy is a town that doesn’t have too much national cache apart from the fact that it supposedly served as a basis for Mayberry, where Andy Griffith Show was to have taken place. And while there’s no way that Mount Airy was as bucolic as its televised representation hinted, there wasn’t a McDonalds around during the better part of the ‘60s. That might be a welcome respite to most of us these days, Larry Deatherage, lead singer and songwriter for the Nomads, decries the fact.

Prior to delving into that band and its history, it needs to be figured that there’re countless bands – then and now – toting around the name of ‘Nomads.’ This North Carolina band, while trucking in frat rock and revved up surf instrumentals, has nothing to do with the Bellevue, Washington based group which moved in roughly the same circles. Deatherage’s band is also completely separate from the Texas group and the ensemble of Europeans functioning under the same moniker today. It’s all a bit too confusing, but communications forty to fifty years ago weren’t quite what they are today.

Anyway, the Nomads, in addition to Detherage comprised Bruce Evans on lead guitar, Mike Badgett on drums, Jerry Martin on bass player and backing vocals with Gary Beeson sitting in on organ, piano and rhythm guitar. That seems like a lot of players for such a small town to have back during the ‘60s, but the Beat Invasion had more than a little bit to do with that.

The group, while becoming a popular live act in its hometown and few neighboring states, recorded in various forms over its career, but is recalled for a specific single. “Thoughts of a Madman” b/w “From Zero Down” isn’t the ensemble’s strongest effort, but perhaps the most melodic. The tracks, compiled on the out of print Crypt disc, lend listeners a glimpse into what else the Nomads got into, though. And while it’s not quite on par with stuff flying outta the Northwest from roughly the same time – ’64-’66 – the Nomads do surpass a good majority of other low profile garage acts and certainly some of the work included on the various Nuggets compilations.

Most rewarding are the two instrumentals included on the Crypt compilation. Both “Exterminator” and “Nomads Theme” add some a surf inflection not found elsewhere in the group’s work. That being said, the two instrumentals still retain the visceral feel of the vocal spiced efforts. And while nothing represented on this compilation made the group stars, the fact that Deatherage is a manager of a restaurant somewhere in North Carolina is a bit disconcerting.

English Rose: Smells Sweeter than it Sounds

Honestly, everyone’s racist to a certain extent. White, black, brown – whatever. We each have preconceived and ill-informed notions about people we don’t know. That’s a part of life. So the next time someone tells you they’re not racist, feel free to call ‘em a liar.

Probably, there are gonna be a good number of people that disagree with all of that – they’re called liberals. And as much as I’m personally disgusted by closed minded, right wing folks, the left is just as bothersome. What’s most disconcerting, though, is the fact that when liberals protest and get smacked down by the cops, it’s a violation of their rights. When the right seeks to organize –spew half-truths and racist nonsense – suddenly, lefties want some sort of injunction on the event. On occasion, the argument is bolstered by something about avoiding violence. But really, it boils down to the fact that no one likes to be disagreed with.

When skinners wanna throw a party, people take umbrage. If the stated end result of a gathering is to inflict harm on another, we should all understand folk’s desire to police the event. To preclude it seems a bit over the top.

A band that was supposed to appear at one of the aforementioned skinner skirmishes is English Rose. There’s not too much info on the British band floating around the internets for a few reasons. Firstly, if people wanna smash your face in because of what you believe in, it’s probably not in your best interest to make yourself easily available to the general public with websites and various contact information. Secondly, skinners don’t interact well with technology.

Despite all of that, The White Album (get it?) by English Rose is floating around the tubes that make up the web. And before briefly delving into the music, it’s gotta be said that whatever your stance or opinion about the music is, the endless puns that RAC (Rock Against Communism) are given over to are endlessly entertaining.

But really, how many songs about pride does anyone need to hear?

The answer, when taking in any variety of Oi!, is apparently ‘an endless barrage of them.’ Surprisingly, though, there’s only a single track on this English Rose release with the word pride in its title – “Show My Pride.” And while the approach to punked up Oi! taken here finds the band getting into Exploited territory – the more metalic side of it – what’s most problematic is the fact that there’s not too much lyrical territory to explore.

Granted, the group’s lead singer and lone constant member has a point of view he wants to relate, but being around for such a long time, English Rose has surely examined what it perceives to be scumbags, foreigners and political quandaries.

The one up shot to The White Album and RAC in a general sense is the fact that, for the most part, it’s void of love songs. So while, that traditional song construction endlessly strangles the music industry English Rose shuns it. Of course, what it’s replaced by isn’t all that great. So, it’s a draw.

King Khan x BBQ x Inivisibility

It’d be easy to take umbrage with the ridiculous personas that both King Khan and BBQ have worked to create over time. And in moves similar to the Black Lips, it seems that not too long a period of time goes by without hearing about one of these guys running into some legal trouble. For whatever this duo’s shenanigans seem less contrived then its Atlanta based brethren. None of that, though, is actually the point of any of this. It’s, hopefully, the music. And in just three albums time, even if the release dates have been spread out over the better part of the ‘00s, the King Khan and BBQ Show has been able to amass a unique persona in a genre that glorifies weirdoes.

The time that King Khan took off over the last few years to focus on his engorged soul revue, which comprised a few German players and an enchanting dancer, hasn’t been detrimental. Instead, his funky sojourn may have resulted in a stronger sense of melody and groove than what was previously displayed on this group’s recordings.

Returning again to In the Red Records for the newly released Invisible Girl, the duo hasn’t forsaken its lower than low production values despite King’s aforementioned foray into larger groups. Interestingly enough, though, this disc seems more fully composed. And rightly or not, it might be perceived to reflect a wider, albeit just slightly, musical palette.

The ridiculously named “Animal Party” – which possesses lyrics just as bizarre – comes off as a quick step, garagey update to the Velvet Underground’s “The Gift.” There’s no accidental stabbings in the King Khan and BBQ song, but that’s not to say that the song’s any less shocking to hear, because, really, who did order that pizza?

Of course, this single shot of juvenilia (there’s a lot more as well) isn’t the only aspect of Invisible Girl that makes the album an enjoyable listen. And moving back wards through America’s musical past, even if these guys are Canadian, finds the duo in near doo-wop territory on “Third Ave.” The pacing is all slow with backing vocals helping to keep it all together. What’s most remarkable about this track is the fact that it finds BBQ singing in sincere tones about love whereas other tracks focus on some lusty topics and result in sheer nonsense. The duo’s ability to shift back and forth doesn’t make them masters of the genre, but talented enough to make its work come off as alternately heart wrench and dance worthy.

So whereas media darlings like Animal Collective aim at working in dance tracks with sensationally bizarre lyrical content and then angle at a proper love song, but fall flat, these world traveling foreigners are able to do it with aplomb.

Most likely Invisible Girl won’t wind up affecting the larger culture or even making it onto those last minute year end lists, but that doesn’t lessen the quality of the offering. There might not be too much other genre territory for these folks to cover, but retreads, at this point are welcome.

The Flakes: An (East) Bay Garage

The Bay Area has a pretty dense and deep history within the realm of garage stuffs. It’s not easy to round up all the groups that have contributed to the genre over the years. And while it might be unpopular to say, the Grateful Dead, during the mid ‘60s, were one of the most exciting bands of the genre. Get over it, Pig Pen was the man. And while he wasn’t too adept at any one thing, having such a powerful group of players behind him made the Dead (circa ’66-‘68) an incredible act despite its subsequent drowning in self congratulatory soloing.

No one’s going to connect Jerry and company to the Mummies and then to the Flakes. But all of those bands were hip to Chuck Berry riffs and raunchy RnB styled rockers. As evidenced by early Dead shows, the band was beholden to simple blues much in the same way the Mummies were, even if each group arrived at its sound as a result of drastically different means.

But since the Mummies are just a memory – unless you caught them at Budget Rock this past year – the Flakes are gonna hafta do for fans of frat rock and its family tree. Even these two bands aren’t cut from exactly the same cloth - they do, though share the same drummer. Regardless of that, the newer (relatively) Flakes have a more succinct sound even as the band retains the shambolic qualities of its ‘60s heroes.

Beginning at or around the new millennium, the Flakes started cranking out juvenilia in the form of a succession of singles. The first few were ridiculously limited in numbers – I only know that from owning them, but I would assume that the discs that followed weren’t in plentiful supply either. Tracks like “Roulette” came off as perfectly crafted throw backs even as it sounded fresh and clean somehow.

Anyway, five years after issuing its first 7 inch, the Flakes finally saw its way into the studio to record a long player entitled Back to School. Being a bit detached from the machinations of the underground garage scene in the far, far west, won’t help anyone track down this particular disc. Good luck finding it in the flesh as it were.

But what’s odd about this – until one takes a minute to consider the fact that the Flakes may as well just be considered an homage to all things ‘60s – is that Back to School is made up of more covers than originals. 8 out of the fourteen cuts here come from someone else’s song book. Of course, that doesn’t mean that the Flakes are incapable of rendering songs like the Rolling Stones’ “Stupid Girl” in update and eccentric terms. But cranking out a few singles of new material may have suited the Flakes just as well as this long player.

 “I’m Telling You!” and a few of the other original compositions sit nicely alongside the classics. And yeah, sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart. So that either means that the Flakes have succeeded in its mission, or the band’s slunk off into cover band territory. Cop it and find out.

Necros: An Ohio Thrash

Reading American Hardcore is drastically different that watching the film of the same name. Although, there are similar historical transgressions and curios in both: Social Distortion is repeatedly referred to as a hardcore band as are the Misfits. But more importantly, to me at least, is the fact that Necros are lumped into a Michigan/Detroit scene that while the group was surely apart of, hailed from Maumee, Ohio. The Toledo suburb is probably known for something – what I can’t say – but it seems like taking Necros from Ohioans is unwarranted. I mean, are the Dead Boys from New York? Nope, but they lived there. Anyway…

Necros are usually figured as one of the early hardcore bands functioning in and around the Midwest. In stark contrast to the scenes that were happening on the coast, Necros developed, early on at least, independent of a specific scene. Black Flag were clearly heroes of the group, and when one of the crew headed out to LA in a high school exchange program and returned with live footage of Ginn and company, it was just short of revelatory.

After corresponding with the folks (Tesco Vee et. all) behind the Touch and Go Zine – and eventually the label – the guys from the Necros (initially Barry Henssler on vocals, Andy Wendler playing guitar and Todd Swalla behind the drums) were able to reach some deal where they’d record for the new imprint. The Sex Drive single was the first release from the label.

At this point in the band’s development, the four songs that comprised the single varied in approach with a few that were as much sloppy punk ala the Germs as hardcore. But of course the fact that the Germs frequently get checked as having helped start the whole hardcore thing it’s sensible – kinda.

Either way, the seven inch included indictments of the police, teenage libido and American society in a general sense. It wasn’t the pinnacle of punk or hardcore, but pointed towards the direction that the band would follow in coming years. The pace would be ratcheted up and recording quality would improve, but for all intents and purposes Necros were fully formed, if a bit young sounding, on its first release.

A few years hence, IQ32 cropped up as a split release between Ian McKaye’s Dischord Records and Touch and Go. The nine songs were recorded in much cleaned up fashion with Henssler being audible most of the time as opposed to listeners just hearing a series of melodic grunts.

The societal critique continued with songs like “Race Riot” and “Wargame,” although it didn’t seem contrived. Coupling the adolescent politics being figured out over the course of the disc with a matured group of players, the band came off as a better rehearsed and more focused ensemble.

There’d be subsequent releases by Necros, but they wouldn’t receive the same sort of attention as folks on the coast, or even the Zero Boys in latter years. That might be partially as a result of the group’s slide into hard rock. The same thing happened to SSD, though, so at least Necros are in good company.

Offbeats: An Intermediate Clevo Punk

As weird as the music history is in a general sense, the odd ordeals that Clevo based punkers endured through the ‘70s and ‘80s pretty much trumps everything else. No, there wasn’t a tour bus accident leaving a drummer one armed or anything so horrific, but there just seemed to be an endless amount of line up shifts, disappearances and missed opportunities. The Dead Boys moved away to attain stardom, didn’t achieve it and petered out after a second full length. And Pere Ubu – punk in only the most liberal terms – still records, but the only folks that really care about those new albums are dudes that speak French, so that doesn’t matter at all, now does it?

But in the wake of the first (and second, I suppose) waves of Clevo punk were a slew of bands that were around, picking up pointers and playing in lesser known groups than the aforementioned scene stalwarts. The Akron thing, was a wholly different animal.

That being said, Cleveland is, was and will be known for some hardcore stuffs dating back to the early ‘80s (and yes, I realize there was ‘90s and ‘00s stuff as well, but disconnected from what we’s ‘bout to delve into). At the time that one would guess that hardcore began to coalesce as a recognizable genre, East and West coast bands had already determined a specific style – occasionally metal inflected. And while that same idea would eventually be incorporated into the Clevo scene, its early ‘80s HC was just revved up punk - nary a criticism to be levied upon it either.

Determining a group’s popularity would be simple conjecture at this point, but the Offbeats, having members in common with the Generics, AK-47's and Broncs, have retained some semblance of relevance even having a retrospective released via Smog Veil Records.

And while that compilation might be easily hunted down considering the link up there, Offbeats’ first single, entitled Why Do You Hang Out?, deals out some weird admixture of ‘70s punk and a nascent hardcore. The single – it holds seven songs and clocks in at over ten minutes, so maybe it’s a mini-LP, but whatever – is almost able to distill the Clevo punk tradition.

I’s opening track is plain trash, but adept at its maneuvers. Picking out what chords are flying by would be pointless. And Tom Miller’s vocals are all but indecipherable apart from the chorus of “We’re always in a rush.” That’s the track’s charm, though.

What follows, though, could probably fool the uninitiated into thinking that it was some lost Pagan’s demo. Perhaps the tempo’s a bit cranked up, but everything from the snotty ass vocals to the pop-inflected guitar noise works to the group’s advantage.

Offbeats offer no missteps – four chords, though aren’t too difficult to get over with. A brush with fame and a record deal would soon send the line up into shambles. But the group wrangled a tour with a fresh faced Lemonheads and opened for the Dead Kennedys a few times. So, what else is there?

TWOFER: The Original Three and Tokyo Electron

The Original Three
Been Dealt a Losing Hand
(Empty Records, 2005)

The guit player/singer of this three piece punk outfit hails from The Black Lips. That carries a lot of baggage. Side projects don’t always come off as well as they should; like The Damn Yankees or any solo Mick Jagger or Keith Richards album. Been Dealt a Losing Hand, despite its rather lame title, delivers where other side projects have failed miserably in the past. The guitar duo and drummer are even joined by Jay Reatard and Alicia Trout, who produces three tracks, from The Lost Sounds. The star power (that term is being applied liberally) alone promises a set of good tracks. It really comes through. Unfortunately, since Empty Records was been rather busy, they didn’t have any time to check the grammar on the track “It’s Not What Your Thinking.” I understand this is punk, but that doesn’t say what band actually means. Poor grammar, though, can’t really detract from “The Line,” where our friend from The Black Lips makes good use of his voice and a plain melody. Between that track and “Vow,” the last track on the album, The Original Three reach almost anthemic proportions, but the album is only nine tracks. As a listener and not a critic, I want more. And probably, as a result of this album, I’m willing to pay cash money to see The Black Lips the next time they’re in town.

Tokyo Electron
Self Titled
(Empty Records, 2005)

I’m beginning to really enjoy Empty Records. Partially because of The Reatards. And oddly enough, Jay Reatard happens to produce this slab of punk. That being said, I don’t ever understand an entire verse of this yelling. Occasionally, it sounds like coherent, useful punk rock. And other times it seems like the guys in Tokyo Electron just happened to know the right people to get a chance at putting a record out. A prime example of the bands inadequacies comes on “I’m Worthy” with the un-needed addition of an organ not even being able to help out the band. The following track and its sloppy tempo changes again gives me some inkling into the politics that could have potentially played a role in this release coming about. I suppose though, the adage about who you know comes into play in every sphere of life and punk is certainly no different. Now that the genre is an elderly thirty-two, we can look at how production and distribution has so drastically changed over that time. A decade ago, a label like Empty Records probably wouldn’t have had the financial ability to produce and package a disc that they didn’t have the utmost faith in. Now, with everyone knowing a guy who has some special power, whether it’s recording cheaply, doing the artwork (which is a bit tacky on this one and not in a good way) or whatever, everyone can have a slab of their very own. Is that good or not? I can’t really say yet. Gimme another thirty years.

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