The Thought Criminals: More Reasons Why OZ Rules

Out of all the Brit punk groups springing forth from the years ’76 and ’77 the Desperate Bicyles don’t generally receive their due. It’s a frustrating mess, that whole early discography of the scene. But the political ideology – that sounds significantly more academic than it actually is – backing the Bicycles’ first single is something that should have sparked an international movement. That didn’t happen, but it’s interesting that a band from Australia credit the London based band with lending them a political perspective from which its early songs were based.

The Thought Criminals occupy just about the same international cultural space that the Bicycles do. And while that latter band might be more consistent musically, what the Criminals were able to work up during the first stage of its career is on par with just about any DIY punker act from the era.

Collected on Chrono-Logical are the early would-be hits and the later relative failures of the Thought Criminals. There’s not a huge focus on the Orwellian future – at least in blatant terms. But it serves as bedrock for the majority of the songs here.

Most impressive is the fact that the Criminals were of such a staunch political position that “I Won't Pay” takes Malcolm McLaren to task for being a business man. Yeah, that’s completely apt. At the same time, though, without that man ruining the New York Dolls and organizing the Pistols, punk would look dramatically different than it does today. The song’s still pretty funny, though.

Moving past even that critique, in a relatively recent interview Roger Grierson, the Criminals guitarist, chastises the Clash as being hypocrites (not a tough argument to make) and takes their bass player, Paul Simonon, to task for being “thick as a brick.” While that doesn’t qualify as a gutsy move, it’s amusing, especially in light of the fact that Grierson has focused on the business end of music since the Criminals split up.

Whatever.

Apart from the aforementioned cut, there’re a huge number of pop inflected, speedy punk numbers here capable of entertaining everyone from power-poppers to Buzzcocks’ enthusiasts. “Edge of Time” even winds up sounding like the Desperate Bicycles – or maybe New York’s the Feelies a bit. But all of the musical references dashed over the band’s discography here point out that there were a huge number of group’s preceding the Criminals formation. That’s not good or bad, but a decent example of how to round up influences and spit out something new and engaging.

Von LMO and the Future-Past of Punk

There’s no way to properly figure Von LMO. The band’s a weird duck – Von LMO seems to be the band’s name as well as the dude singing. But in just about every piece of writing one’s able to track down on the band, there’re endless references to Devo. That probably gets a lot of folks’ hope up. And for good reason. Devo rules. It’s curious, though, considering no one usually connects Dow Jones and the Industrials to that Akron band. All involved are tied to electronics. But whatever. Von Lmo doesn’t sound like Devo really.

Yeah, there’s some where funky stuff peeking through the tough guy punk. But Von LMO’s voice comes off as something that Jello may have used as a basis for developing his own delivery in direction opposition to the odd nasally Devo vocals.

Separating Von LMO from most groups that had a technological bent about them around this time is the inclusion of a sax – which way later factored into a few stolen moments with James Chance.

Either way, the band’s first album, Future Language, sports a cheeseball cover that one would expect. It’s funny to think about all these odd ball almost punkers sitting around and pondering the implications of space and men from another planet - then writing songs like this. Wearing space suites was probably a step in the right direction while playing these tunes, but still weird to see on the cover of an album.

Like what you ask? Like…

“This is Pop Rock” is more sensible than anyone’s gonna give it credit for – punk’s still based on simple song structures and inevitably tied to Chuck Berry simplicity. The following “Leave Your Body,” while lyrically obtuse and as ridiculous as one might be able to handle, sounds like it served as the foundation for the Spits. That’s a good thing.

A weird focus on the human body, it’s odd functions as well as the possibility of becoming roboticised is a bit unsettling. But seeing this Von LMO probably was too.

Even if the music stunk – and it doesn’t – the performative aspect to the whole endeavor’s pretty intruiging. Apparently during shows, the destruction of instruments wasn’t a prerequisite, but it certainly wasn’t frowned upon. Of course, there was no shortage of folks by the late seventies willing to destroy anything in arms reach. It’s just that the music might not have been as good as Von LMO and there wasn’t anyone that looked like this while engaged with tangents of the punk scene.

Hated Youth: Florida's Hardcore Scene Clocks In

After punk showed up and spit everyone out into a drug induced haze, the hardcore crews took over. There were obviously that top tier clutch of bands functioning during the first days of the eighties, but pretty soon a huge number of teenaged kids took up the cause. And while, for the most part, those better known bands hailed from densely populated, urban areas a number of smaller scenes began springing up in locations that hadn’t previously been associated with punkers.

Florida, even today, really isn’t the greatest place unless you’re a retired doctor, white trash or a vacationing, fake tanned business trollop. That being said, the relative isolation that such places in the panhandle afforded during the hardcore days offered up a setting for bands to make a run at developing unique styles. That’s not what wound up happening, but it could have. You know.

Either way, Hated Youth haven’t become the most revered performers from early eighties hardcore stuff. But the scant recordings associated with the band do add a bit of tossed off flair to a movement which quickly got over-run with tough guys – even the HY guys, figured that much.

The only release to feature Hated Youth without splitting the bill was its seven inch Hardcore Rules. Its title should hint at the level of musicianship spread out over eleven minutes and as many songs. Glad you did the math – there’s nothing on here getting to two minutes, with a few not even making it to the one minute mark. Of course, the form doesn’t ask for more than that. And really, if you can say all that needs saying in twenty one seconds, there’s no real reason to carry one.

“Army Dad,” that insanely short song, doesn’t create new avenues for the genre and probably only approximates the pacings some Boston bands toyed with, but coming so early in the eighties, the song and the rest of this single really count as the proper foundation on which independent music in Florida rests.

More likely than not, most punkers down there don’t have an ear to Hated Youth. But what’s remarkable, apart from these kids truly doing it for themselves, is how tough they sounded while not being legally able to buy cigarettes. So, even if you’re of the (wrong headed) opinion that hardcore doesn’t rule, it stinks. Hated Youth is more important the pretty much anything you’ll wind up accomplishing. And you’re over eighteen.

Satan Panonski: Eastern Block Rock

Each individual scene has a load of politics and history to deal with. And being a daft American without a wide ranging view of international history doesn’t help suss out why which music occurred where and why. It makes sense that Israel has a pretty nasty hardcore scene – it’s a war zone after all. But a giant blind spot in regarding Easter European history has served to obscure punk from what was at one time Yugoslavia. And if there’s another body Stateside that detail the break up of that nation and its resultant countries, lemme know.

Either way, a weirdo named Satan Panonski, who was apart of what counted as the Yugoslavian punk scene before the war and Croatia afterwards (feel free to call me out on the at one), was one of a scant few persistent with a constant vision of what music should sound like. Granted, he named himself Satan, so there was a screw loose somewhere. But in each of his myriad minute and forty second songs a wealth of entertainment lays.

With the disintegration of stability in the region folks who were at one point sympathetic with the assumed goals punk espoused turned to a strict nationalism as living conditions basically became untenable. It’d be difficult to figure the region mirrored what occurs in the Middle East, but there was no doubt some racial and ethnic issues at work.

And after doing a stint in the military Panonski resumed recording music. Since the works are in such scant supply, it’d be difficult to figure that after seeing war atrocities his music changed. But there’s a pretty blatant G.G. Allin thing at work here. And it’s not the early pop stuff.

The guitar sounds all over Nuklearne Olimpijske Igre arrive just this side of metal while retaining punk’s simplicity. Lord knows what Panonski’s singing about, but be assured it would startle your grandmother.

There are, however, a few brief musical reprieves. “Djeèakova Pjesma” doesn’t get past a really plain two note vamp – no there aren’t chords, just two notes played rhythmically – while Panonski yelps and howls as sedate as possible for the setting.

Given the time and place that this was recorded (early nineties, give or take), it’s remarkable that Nuklearne Olimpijske Igre exists at all. But to a certain extent that’s why punk’s been able to persevere for so long. Of course, it’s all turning into a musical museum and Panonski doesn’t do too much in the way of innovation. It’s just good, dumb (sounding), atonal punk stuffs.

Scotty Can't Draw Those (Reggae) Brakes

It’s a bit curious to me that “Draw Your Brakes” was such a huge it – the song was, after all, included on the soundtrack to The Harder They Come­ – but Scotty (bka David Scott) never really achieved that level of success again. It doesn’t seem, from a brief overview of his recorded career, that he switched up styles and abandoned what made that well known effort so engaging. Of course, then one might figure that repeating a formula doesn’t work any better than trying new things every five minutes.

Either way, Scotty deserved better.

His earlier career as a portion of the singing group the Choosen Few didn’t pan out all that much better. So, when (relative) success arrived in the form of that afformentioned single, it must have been a shocker. The funny thing is, the rest of the album, Unbelievable Sounds, which was built around that one effort is almost as good even if there’s not a chorus or melodic figure that matches Scotty’s best known track.

Working in what amounts to an early deejay style, Scotty gets to roll in over a spate of tracks that don’t exactly rank as the most recognizable hits from past decades, but each should bring to mind at least a few snatches of older songs – “Rosemarie” specifically, even if that song’s kind of a bummer when compared to the rest of Unbelievable Sounds.

Making up for any perceived short coming, “Sesame Street” includes the chorus “I was born to lose her,” which I believe comes from Alton Ellis’ “Blackman's Pride” amongst other places. Regardless of where that track initial come from, it’s melody suites Scotty almost as well as “Draw Your Brakes.”

Specifically placing “Monkey Drop” seems extraordinarily difficult, but considering Scotty’s early association with Derrick Harriot in addition to the track’s sparse arrangement and its seeming ability to make skinheads dance, it’s a safe bet to place it with that impresario’s catalog.

But even associations with some of the island’s best known music biz folks didn’t wind up doing too much for Scotty or his various groups. And Unbelievable Sounds ranks as the only long player under his name. It’s a total bummer seeing as there’s a pretty consistent quality spread out over the disc’s duration. Granted, it’s not on par with a U Roy effort – or Dillinger. Or whoever. So while second rate soul singers in the States had a go at a proper career, Scotty didn’t. And that’s kinda bunk.

Thee Mighty Caesars: Hail Early Caesars!

It’s either utterly ridiculous or a monumental sign post detailing the creativity of humanity that Billy Childish is associated with so many different recordings. Beginning towards the early eighties, Childish and whatever group of bums he could find would crank out some extraordinarily engaging pop induced garage tunes, stick around for a while and then dissolve into the mess of independently released Brit music from the period.

Of course, remaining completely detached from pervasive tastes over there in the UK is pretty impressive when considering the expansive backlog of records Childish has had a hand in. But it’s also kind of nutty that one guy has seen fit to record in roughly the same mode for just about thirty years and folks still eat it up – I’m one of them.

Anyway, after the Milkshakes fell apart, it didn’t take Childish too long to soldered together the group which would constitute Thee Mighty Caesars – and no, I have no idea what all the ‘Thees’ are a bout. Ask Thee Oh Sees, maybe.

During the first two years of the band’s existence it issued some ridiculous number of singles and no less then three albums – or four depending on what dates you dig up from the interwebs and not the dust jackets.

Starting with a self titled disc in 1985, Childish and company presented a then unique take on garage abandon while incorporating a healthful dose of punk’s DIY though process. And coming from an art background, Childish set about adorning each of his albums with unique images and occasionally woodcuts that he produced himself.

Quickly following with Beware The Ides Of March, Thee Mighty Caesars didn’t so much expand or even better define it’s musical approach to recording a nonsensical amount of garage tracks, but the inclusion of covers like “You Can’t Judge a Book By the Cover,” “Rumble” and “Road Runner” all point to a sturdy historical perspective on the genre. That’s not good or bad, it’s just a seems to be a straight line moving through time.

For it’s third album in just over a year, 1986’s Wise Blood, included a cover of Alternative TV’s “Action Time Vision,” which may have to a certain extent repositioned the band and focused it’s punk influence a bit. Of course, bashing out simple songs isn’t the lone provenance of garage or punk. It’s both. And that’s probably all Thee Mighty Caesars needed to point out. They did and kept going for just about another decade.

Tandoori Knights: Garage as Seen through the Eyes of Brown Folks from Canada

Miriam Linna and Billy Miller have become something of garage and RnB curators. The pair’s Norton Records is responsible to re-issuing the catalogs of folks as far ranging as Link Wray and Sun Ra. There might be serpentine reasonings as to why or how those two folks are related musically, but even if there’s not, each ranks as good music. And that’s why Norton’s involved.

But in addition to digging up old treasures, the New York based imprint issues new groups, who for the most part have an eye to the past, it’s recordings and its heroes. So, in putting work out by Arish Ahmad Khan, better known to garage enthusiasts as King Khan, and his various pseudonyms, Norton’s in effect cementing more music’s historical import. At some point in the next few decades, it wouldn’t be too much of a shock if a compilation cropped up with a number of disparate players redoing Khan’s various compositions. There’re surely enough to go around.

Either way, this latest project called Tandoori Knights plays on Khan’s background, he’s joined by Bloodshot Bill whose own album as the Ding Dongs is being sent off into the world by Norton as well.

With any work from these fellows, though, there’s bound to be a range of auld tyme rock stuffs. Boiling this all down to garage is reductive, but there’s really no other way to understand the mélange of sounds that counts as “Roam the Land” but then works its way into stuff like “Big Belly Giant.” That first track from Tandoori Knights sports a pronounced Eastern flavor as referenced in the band’s name. Latter, though, there’s as much raunchy RnB as anything else with some supplemental war whoops serving as backing vocals.

The ability for Khan and Bill to integrate these disparate sounds isn’t a shock any longer. And hopefully anyone reading this was able to catch the Shrines during the few trips around the country it made, spreading facile grooves flavored with trash and unnecessary nudity.

It’s this sort of admiration for all sounds, though, that enables Khan to work continuously. Moving from straight garage stuff alongside BBQ then off to some more folkish stuffs, that aforementioned funk and now this spawns innumerable fans – some might take a liking to a few acts, or maybe all. But in the current climate of group’s touring non-stop, it’s refreshing to see a player working to craft something new just about every time he swings around. Boss sounds all around.

Lora's Essential Logic

Just to get it out of the way, X Ray Spex’ “Oh Bondage, Up Yours” is one of the best first wave of Brit singles to be issued. That song’s so engaging, dudes that don’t even like punk too much enjoy listening. Of course, the fact that it was worked up by a handful of teenage girls doesn’t hurt. But that doesn’t detract from how engaging the song is on a purely musical level.

Either way, as with many of those early punk groups, line ups were pretty volatile and there didn’t seem to be any real end game in sticking around in one group for to long – stasis and all. You know. Either way, when Lora Logic and Poly Styrene called it quits with that aforementioned group, it wasn’t long before Essential Logic sprung up.

What’s weird is that there isn’t too great a difference between this latter group and the X Rays. Granted, funk and dub get ratcheted up a bit, but that seemed par for the course. It mirrors, to a certain extent the changes John Lydon would go through when moving from the Sex Pistols to Public Image Limited.

Regardless of their peers, Essential Logic, during its first run, at least, was only able to work up a seven inch and a full length, with one song overlapping and being issued on each release. As uneven as Wake Up and its four tracks are, the title track deserved to be included on both discs.

The versions differ by about twenty seconds. So, there’s no real necessity to track both versions down. What’s interesting, though, is that the introductory passage to the song comes off like a Pere Ubu cut as does the persistent and slinky guitar line that runs through the remainder of the song. It’s bizarre to attempt to pick the song apart, though. There’re at least four or five distinct sections each drawing from some disparate portion of weirdo music history. Better of worse, the song comes off as a proper distillation of Essential Logic’s musical bent. Logic’s sax is as knotty as ever with Poly Styrene’s vocals landing somewhere between new wave dance queen and graduate of punk high school.

There’re some other tracks on Beat Rhythm News worth taking a look at. But each can be reduced to “Wake Up” and its assembled parts. That’s not a criticism. It’s just a song that set forth all Essential Logic needed and wanted to be.

Blinders - "Spend the Night With You" (Video)

These folks come out of the same Louisville, Ky scene that gave us the Endtables. This work right here's just as good in a more good-time kinda way. It's pretty easy to tell that whoever these folks are/were - there aren't even any images accompanying the video - they were havin' fun.

Simple Minds - "Pablo Picass" (Video)

Apart from the fact that Pablo ranks as one of the last recognizable faces in art, there's not a great reason for so many punk/garage related acts writing songs about him. Of course, this early Simple Minds' track refutes what the Modern Lovers figured. Either way, both rank pretty high in the realm of unneeded art commentary by musicians.

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