Limes: A Relaxed Garage

There’s not too much to do in the garage genre any longer. Just ways in which to re-envision the past adding in some mixture of punk, soul, blues or other American musical caveat that has a group of collector geeks surrounding it. Coming from Memphis, though, deciding which way to sway with one’s garage is probably easier than if a group was from – let’s say – Cali. But enough west coast baiting. The dudes that make up Limes – fronted by Shawn Cripps and supported by none other than freeqin’ Jack Oblivion alongside some other Memphis stalwarts – swagger through eleven tracks on its first full length entitled Tarantula! released way back in 2005 on Death Valley Records.

Contrasting more recent garage acts, Limes don’t get too amped up, members take a lackadaisical approach to cranking out tunes. It isn’t lilting or testosterone free, but the music does come off sounding like something that was composed at three in the morning after drinking a bit too much, then set down to tape after another run to the liquor store a few hours later. There aren’t any grandiose proclamations here – musically or lyrically – but perhaps due to that, Limes come off as a weary local band that doesn’t care if it doesn’t end up making it outta Memphis ever.

That might well be the case – but with the enormous respect granted Goner and the scene down there, it’d be more than a bit easy to ‘make it’ if they wanted to. If nothing else, hopping on a bus with Jay Reatard coulda resulted in the sale of a few albums.

No more couldas, though. It doesn’t matter in the end if Limes gathers more than a few listeners, the music is enough. The fact that it’s been created and appreciated – by tens of people – is probably enough. Although it’s shocking to hear “Little Red Riding Hood” done at half the speed of the original, this recording of the ‘50s classic almost comes off as a love ballad as opposed to some disguised, lustful track beginning for action. Shawn Cripps’ downer vocals work in this mode coming off as a bassy Jonathan Richmond – or Lou Reed, but what’s the difference?

Who sounds like what doesn’t matter, Limes kill it. Tarantula! may have simply come out at the wrong time for it to have gained any attention. It seems like all the way back in ’05 there wasn’t the same sort of online fetishism as there is today. The once again renewed interest in garage after the early aughties gave us some pretendo bands working in that frame, but of late Thee Oh Sees and Ty Segall seem to be a part of an ever growing onslaught of twisted takes on ‘60s music. Limes probably won’t find a new life as a result of that now, but their website does feature some tracks available for download. The group asks for payment, but states that it’s on the honor system. So basically it’s free. Limes deserve the scratch, but this approach to business is probably why it’s not gonna end up on Pitchfork or Stereogum or whatever other online rag almost matters.

The Merton Parkas: Style over Substance

Being figured as a part of some revival genre isn’t always going to be a good turn for a band’s career (ska?). But of course, the fact that the whole mod thing during the ‘70s was comprised completely of throw back groups should probably have excused anyone from being labeled as something of a Johnny-Come-Lately. The Jam never ran into problems like that – and while Paul Weller and company were easily the most ballsy performers as well as perhaps the best musicians outta that entire crew, they were still as beholden to ‘60s American soul and the Who as any other Brit combo. Fair or not, that’s how it was. The Merton Parkas weren’t quite as lucky as that Weller fronted combo, though.

Combining the part of town that the quartet was from with a piece of clothing (clever, right?) the Merton Parkas were apparently one of the first ‘70s mod bands to get into label negotiations. Discussing the group’s future with Beggars Banquet, though, disallowed the group from being included on the seminal Mod’s May Day ’79 compilation. And while an appearance on that disc probably wouldn’t have meant too much career wise, the Parkas might have been afforded a greater deference from its cohort. As it was, when the band released its first single – “You Need Wheels” – the Parkas were perceived to be a conceptually light group of retreads. Again, that doesn’t seem fair given the market place into which they were moving, but that’s just an example of how the press is kinda fickle.

Comprised of brothers Danny (vox) and Mick Talbot (keyboards) along with Neil Wurrell (bass) and Simon Smith (drums), the Merton Parkas readied the release of its first disc - Face in the Crowd – in ’79 as the Jam were set to begin work on its fourth disc since ’77. The keyboard talent, which was apparently well established by the Parkas’ single was snatched by Weller and company for inclusion on the ’79 album entitled Setting Sons.

Regardless, though, the Parkas’ first album was received as simply some light rock stuff – which isn’t too far from the truth. There aren’t really any barn burners here, the closest being “Plastic Smile” with its quick step tempo. And even if the band harmonizes here a bit, it’s one of the few instances of the Parkas ratcheting up the tempo to almost punky territory. It’s not stunning, but on its own, the track should’ve been able to garner some positive attention in the press and on the dance floor.

Though not a tremendous success, the Merton Parkas have appreciated a post break up renaissance of sorts. They won’t ever reach the level of fandom that the Jam is afforded, but with the release of The Complete Mod Collection one would imagine that there’s at least a bit of a market for a retread of the retreads. Probably, though, if you own two discs from any Weller associated efforts, this is just overkill. The initiated will object, but that’s how it is sometimes.

Steve Treatment: A Marc Bolan-ish Good Time

The best music not only encompasses more than a single discipline or genre, but also is able to keep fans and listeners guessing as to what’s coming next or how it’s to be purported. I guess that’s why Monk should be considered one of the most interesting pianists in music – and you’re right, this really has nothing do with jazz, but Monk’s kind of a punker himself. Anyway, there are a veritable treasure trove of old tyme punk related recordings and acts that didn’t sit properly in the genre and resultantly were dismissed either by fans or the recording industry when it was interested in exploiting punk for profit.

Steve Treatment (ne Steven John Finney) is one of the better – or is it worse? – examples of an act getting discarded because of its inability to do a just a single thing. His music could then be construed as erratic and unfocused. It is, but in a good way. Treatment’s work can’t escape the incessant Marc Bolan checks that seem to dog every piece of writing concerning the guy, but it’s an apt comparison. And while it’s inarguable that Bolan had a better (weirder?) singing voice, Steve Treatment’s songs were as well put together and executed.

Ok. Being well executed is relative. So the shambolic instrumentation that accompanies each track on 25 'A' Sides doesn’t move towards extolling the musical talents of Treatment’s backing band who would go onto to record as the Swell Maps. They do their jobs, though. The music in tandem with Treatment’s crooning, though, comes off well enough even if he wasn’t granted a recording deal with a proper label. Probably, though, that fact’s only added to they mystique surrounding the guy.

The title of that compilation, while pretty self explanatory, shouldn’t lead anyone to believe that Treatment released upwards of ten singles. 25 'A' Sides does include the few singles that were actually released in addition to what sound like some really rough demos. The better known tracks are heralded for a reason, though.

“Negative Nights” is all Bolan cops overtop of a single guitar chord. It gets a bit difficult to hear the vocals at points, but the moaning that goes along with all of this is ample in conveying the emotions and stories meant for audience ear lobes.

The problematic physical appearance of Treatment – hippie? – prior to recording in this vein gets tossed aside on the track “The Hippie Posed Engrossment,” which sees two renditions here. Treatment, even though all of this was recorded within a few years of his sporting hippie hair, figures that he basically hates the subculture as he himself poses as a punker – or at least mimics the tropes and ideologies of that youth culture.

At times this winds up inadvertently sounding a bit like a New Zealand record from the same era – that’s not a bad thing. But considering the spotlight that the Clean and bands of that ilk have received lately, it’s surprising that Steve Treatment has become more of a buzz word. Maybe he should be.

The Lambrettas: Stuck in the Beat Age

I find myself wondering pretty frequently when and why the revivals of the revivals occur. During the late nineties and into the aughties, there seemed to be growing skinhead contingent in and around the States. That’s really the only reason that I can figure the spate of mod collections getting cranked out in and around that time. The re-release schedule, though, could just have been inevitable and enough time had transpired for various imprints to trot out some ‘70s power pop and mod influenced work.

The Lambrettas (made up of Jez Bird on the mic and a guitar, Doug Saunders on guitar, Mark Ellis as the basser, and Paul Wincer sitting on the drum throne), a Brighton, England based group, didn’t jump on a revival bandwagon, but they did unquestionably cop a sound familiar to the Jam as well as that group’s well dressed forbearers. But regardless of who borrowed what from who, the group, in 1979, was signed to Elton John's imprint, Rocket Records. Despite that proper sort of backing, the band’s first single, "Go Steady" was pretty much a flop. That fact, though, didn’t serve to dissuade the Lambrettas from reworking the melody for inclusion elsewhere in its catalog.

Even with that initial failure, the band soon returned with a ska styled version of “Poison Ivy,” which sounded like a crappy Bad Manners’ track, but somehow made the Lambrettas a few bucks. That one stab at JA sounds would just be a stray shot. Instead, the band worked in a revved up pop vein not too detached from some of the more aggressive, earlier works from Elvis Costello. Of course, there was more pop than punk as evidenced by pretty much the entirety of the band’s catalog, but specifically “Leap Before You Look.” That track and Bird’s more than ample crooning served the band well as it moved towards recording its first full length entitled Beat Boys in the Jet Age.

Perhaps because of that verbose title, the Lambrettas didn’t really make it out of the gates even as a few of the group’s other singles got a few spins in and around England. The moribund state of power pop and the mod revival coupled with the fact that some late comers to the genre/style watered it down was basically sounded the death knell for the group. Of course, the title track of the album being a throw away song about dancing probably didn’t help too much either.

The new mods, though, weren’t about anything too serious other than pills and partying as opposed to their antecedents who unwittingly or not worked to break down racial barriers by being bound to soul music streaming in from the States. That’s not mean to fault the Lambrettas. In fact, they’re probably just a by product of the time that they performed. Ample chops and average song writing, though, just won’t get you over, regardless of whose record label you’re signed too. So unfortunately, the band hashed out on more disc before calling it quits and having its anthology re-worked a few times during the late ‘90s.

Acid Eater: It Is What It Says

There’s some weird, intangible line that garage toes on occasion that might make some simply refer to it as punk. There’s, obviously, also punk that works backwards in the same way. But does the inclusion of an organ make you a garage band? Shhh. Don’t answer, it doesn’t matter as long as your band doesn’t suck. As for Acid Eater, many things can be said and figured about the Japanese quartet comprised of Yamazaki Maso, Toda Fusao, Miyaji Kensaku and Akiba, but probably no one’ll go and say they suck. Well, your mom might think so, but what does she know about any of this…

Initially beginning as a duo an expanding to a four piece, Christine 23 Onna eventually morphed into Acid Eater after gigging for a few years. The shift in personnel apparently prompted the group to incorporate more of that ‘60s style into its sound resulting in an indistinguishable blend of blown out guitar amps and sustained organ notes. It can’t be to everyone’s liking – and it shouldn’t be, the world would be a boring place if it was. But just hearing this band rip through twelve tracks on its 2007 Virulent Fuzz Punk A.C.I.D. should lead one to believe that Acid Eater puts on a rather frenetic show – that’s also probably an understatement.

Released on Time Bomb Records outta JP, the label dished out this vintage looking slab of nonsense. There’s no use in attempting to wade through the noise to reach the vocals – you won’t ever guess what’s going on even if you know the song titles. Acid Eater, while maintaining its adoration of garage, inserts a bit of psych weirdness – not too similar to Acid Mother’s Temple, although, that band seems to be a common reference point – and on “Drive to C.P.” the approach is ratcheted up to untoward levels. From the onset of that track and the never ending keyboard note that accompanies it, the song is all creepy garage as if Herman Munster fronted a twisted rock group. There’s no relenting here – the space ship noises should hint at that.

Each offering is a curtain of various turned up instrumental screeds with occasional indecipherable yelps and sound effects. My affinity for the title of “LSD” probably makes it difficult to accurately portray the track, but if there was a brief reprieve from all the noise, it’s here. That doesn’t mean the band gets wimpy for a moment, there’s just a more prominent lead guitar figure. That’s it.

Acid Eater doesn’t attempt anything new, too interesting or difficult, but is nonetheless able to lay down a clutch of entertaining garage related tracks aimed at the stoned masses. And because of the group’s approach to music it all works. The one drawback – as subtle as it is – is the fact that basically every track begins with the same yelping guitar fuzz making it a bit difficult to distinguish one track from the other. But again, this disc’s strong suit isn’t originality or breadth of influence, it’s just some nasty garage.

The Exploding Hearts: Live on KBOO, 2001

I would imagine that at this late date a great deal has already been written about the Exploding Hearts. There’s probably not too much new territory to cover – nor a reason to revisit the legacy that the band was able to amass over a pretty brief career. And really, the only reason that this has all come rushing back to me is as a result of tooling around Chicago on a bike while listening to Guitar Romantic and singing along – well, that and the fact that I just found a live set from the band recorded and broadcast on Portland radio, KBOO, 90.7.

Surprisingly well recorded, the northwest quartet doesn’t turn in rote renditions of their studio recorded works. And while there’s nothing too shocking here, the date does add a sort of book end to the group’s career that Shattered was supposed to take care of. Included herein are a few tracks that weren’t a part of that first long player – even if they cropped up on the singles collection. “Busy Signals,” the second track here, was initially the b-side to "Modern Kicks," released on Pelado Records in 2003, just predating the Exploding Heart’s full length. Also included here is a version of “Walking Out on Love,” replete with a New York Dolls’ reference to introduce the entire deal.

The one confusing aspect to all of this is the inclusion of a keyboard on a few tracks. Who in god’s name is playing it? There’s no mention of that over at Music Ruined My Life. The answer doesn’t matter too much, and the instrument does add a bit of a new twist to these familiar tracks. Whoever’s playing it, while not too adept at the instrument, does a befitting job.

But with all of these tracks ostensibly available elsewhere, this live set might not be of interest to anyone apart from some obsessives out there. But again, if you’re a fan of the Exploding Hearts there really is no such thing as overkill. And considering that the Dolls just got referenced, think about how many times both of their full lengths have been played over the years – and there’re only twenty some odd tracks to work with. So while this might be the beginning of the parade to wheel out new Exploding Hearts stuff, it should be welcomed. Seriously.

Out of all the northwest bands that cropped up in or around the ‘00s, the Spits might be one of the only groups left out there. Regardless of who’s still working, though, the Exploding Hearts were and remain one of the more engaging acts from that clutch of groups. Its ability to merge the various punk sub-genre’s might not be the most ingenious concoction, but it works pretty perfectly. And while getting the chance to hear all of this won’t undue the horrendous circumstances that surround the demise of this quartet, just toss this live KBOO set on next time you’re thinking that the copy of Guitar Romantic in your collection is gonna get worn out all too soon.

The Nips: Nervous Wrecks

I was recently tooling around in my friend’s Buick and as he kicked out the jams, “That Woman's Got Me Drinking” came on, except it wasn’t the Stitches. Now, I fancy myself something of a well informed music dude, but as my friend slowly turned towards me and asked if I knew who was singing, I had to say no. It was Shane MacGowan and the Popes (nope, not the Pogues). Regardless of the fact that the Stitches apparently have broader musical tastes then I’d anticipated, MacGowan being covered by that SoCal group isn’t the only contribution to the genre that he’s made.

If you can hunt down Punk Rock Movie, MacGowan’s apparently the guy wearing the Union Jack coat pogoing around some dingy club. Apart from being just on the scene, MacGowan formed a group in ’77, The Nips, which functioned for the next three or four years without releasing a proper full length – just a clutch of singles. Luckily, The Tits Of Soho was compiled and released a few years back and collects pretty much everything (?) that the band recorded. Spread out over these singles, though, are a series of slight stylistic shifts only perceptible to geeks, dweebs and dudes with spiky hair.

The difference between the band’s first single – “King of the Bop” b/w “Nervous Wreck” – and some of that latter fair is noticeable, though, and more over, acceptable. Musically, the a-side comes correct, even if it’s a bit off putting to hear MacGowan sing the title of the track. Even with that, the singer’s attempt at unique crooning on the following track doesn’t work as well in some places. An auspicious beginning for sure and as the The Tits Of Soho soldiers on the influence of mod stuffs and pop becomes more and more clear.

At some point, the band was even able to convince Paul Weller to work with the band on a few tracks. “Happy Song,” produced by the Jam front man, begins with a ska related guitar part prior to kicking into some territory befitting the song’s producer. Lyrically it’s all pretty trite, but the music easily excuses that. The guitar solo seems out of place – and insanely shambolic, more befitting Pere Ubu or someone of that ilk. Forgetting about that, MacGowan seems up to the task of leading the band through whatever it might encounter even during his early twenties.

The first half of this disc is given over to that collection of studio work with the remainder being comprised of the same tracks in a live setting. The recordings are better than one might guess, but the levels are a bit messed up. Even with that, the Nips performing live are able to rev up some of the tracks that didn’t quite have ‘IT’ in the studio. And while the guitar towards the end of the disc lacks the aggression of the band’s punk cohort of the time, it’s a rather small criticism to levy on a group that should have been better received regardless of who was singing.

Pink Fairies: Don't Need Their Coffee Bars

There’re as many ways to figure out where punk came from as there are groups that folks proclaim the immediate antecedent to the genre. There’s obviously no answer to where it came from, but guessing is always fun. And since there were literally hundreds of tangential rock bands in the States and the UK that weren’t punk, but kinda had that thing going on, the game’s all the more fun. Hawkwind gets kicked around every once in a while, which isn’t surprising. But what’s more interesting is the fact that their drummer, a gentleman named Twink, performed not just with the Pretty Things, but also helped found Pink Fairies along with Mick Farren and Steve Peregrine Took (Tyrannosaurus Rex).

No, they weren’t a spiky haired punk group – although, they might have rocked some leather jackets and the like. But they did admittedly kick out the jams. The MC5 could be compared to either the Fairies or Farren’s previous group the Deviants. And while the singer didn’t end up working with Twink’s new ensemble for all too long, the sonic relation between the two is pretty clear. They weren’t clones, but sharing group members goes along way especially at a time when folks were trying to turn hard rock and psych into something more interesting.

On the Fairies first studio disc, the 1971 Never Neverland, the band doesn’t come off as drug fueled and rebellious as some would like to believe. There’re spots of visionary madness, but also patches of Pink Floyd cops – the spacey “Heavenly Man.” What the disc suffers from is the seemingly shambolic musical approach that Twink and company try to work through. No one’s a slouch musically, but that doesn’t mean that every sub-genre of rock needs to get a proper run through. Yeah, guitar solos are nice, but what this band does better than anything is to crank out some heavy bar chords.

After the underwhelming What a Bunch of Sweeties, the Fairies, this time without Twink, go in on Kings of Oblivion. And if just a glancing examination of the album cover is all that you get of it, one might believe the disc to be some over inflated prog endeavor. It’s not. To kick start the whole deal, the band gets into “City Kids,” which would be revisited by Hawkwind a few years on with Twink sitting on the drum throne. But here, on this 1973 album, the Fairies sound as punky as possible for this early date. The vocals might come off as a bit melodic, but the pacing and the cranked up guitar sound is more than enough to have the Fairies mentioned in the same breath as some other proto-punk groups.

This third album is unquestionably the heaviest from the Fairies discography. And even if some of the stuffs here almost come off as hard rock, given the frame and intent of the group, it might be foolish to perceive these tunes as such. Nope, it’s still not a straight punk effort, but it’s pretty damned close.

Wimpy and the Queers

I saw the Queers play live once. It was at some tiny, dingy venue called Peabody’s that’s actually now a big, dingy venue. Things, I suppose don’t change. Anyway, standing outside, smoking a cigarette, my fourteen year old person was privy to mockery that would become a part of my experience in and around ‘the punk scene.’ The locale of this particular venue allowed the sidewalks to be choked with various grown up frat dudes and their skanky companions. Luckily for me, I was able to take a listen as some (pseudo) gentleman and his companion for the evening saw the marquee, assumed that band was comprised of some homosexual miscreants and then figured I was gay as a result of standing in front of the club. It wasn’t the first time I’d get called a fag, but it’s the only time I’d remember.

Regardless of how I understand the Queers, their music or their general import in the punk genre, their name has most likely prompted more conversations than necessary. But it does point to the general world view that these folks carried around with them over the last three decades. Beginning in the early ‘80s in New Hampshire of all places, the Queers cropped up for a few years and disbanded, leaving the group’s first singer, Wimpy, behind. Reconstituted a few years on and led by Joe Queer, the band reprised its adolescent fantasies with a renewed vigor. And by the end of the decade the Queers had compiled enough material to release its first full length – Grow Up – via the doomed Shakin’ Street imprint.

Finding a fan in Ben Weasel, the album would eventually be reissued through the west coast Lookout! Records. It was a fitting home for the band as the aesthetic that the East Bay imprint worked with was something akin to Ramones’ fandom. As time wore on and the Queers released numerous discs that each approximated the previous album, the band eventually got into a spat – over money and royalties apparently – with the Lookout! crew resulting in Asian Man records reissuing some of the north easterners’ music.

Arguably the most important, cobbled together release from the band, A Day Late and a Dollar Short, represents only the earliest incarnation of the Queers. The disc’s made up of thirty some odd tracks – most not passing the three minute mark – that cover everything from boredom to driving through New York and hate in a very general sense. There’s no great musical pay off, but what’s here is one of the better Ramones cops in the history of recorded music.

At the early date that these tracks were recorded the music isn’t as ‘polished’ as it would later become. But the inclusion of a different singer served to invigorate the band in a way completely separate than what Joe Queer would be able to muster on latter releases. This is more scummy than one might think given the poppy references that pepper this and every write up of the band, but that’s why it’s good – if not great.

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