Death of Samantha: Definitely Cleveland

There’s a pretty strong chance that if you’re not from NEO (that’s North Eastern Ohio for you foreigners) that you’ve not been privy to the career of John Petkovic. It might seem unfair to begin a write up relating to Death of Samantha by reducing that combo down to one man’s dream, but that’s how it is. Anyway, Petkovic first came to my attention as a piddly teen while reading Clevo’s local rag, the Plain Dealer. He’s been writing on rock and general drunkenness for a time (I recall an essay length screed on drunkenness at dive bars while commenting on the juke boxes each sported). But while still in my formative years, Cobra Verde cropped up and was comprised of a variety of Death of Samantha refugees. But this all actually begins during the ‘80s.

After the Dead Boys left town, the Pagans kinda started to suck and thrashy punk and hardcore started to litter the Clevo scene, there were only a handful of rock dudes that attempted to keep it true. The folks that made up the initial line up of Death of Samantha (the aforementioned Petkovic, David James, Steve Eierdam and eventually Doug Gillard) comprised a hefty percentage of that number. But in the wake of all that rock which descended upon unsuspecting audiences during the ‘70s, Death of Samantha didn’t have a proper scene to work its way into. Of course, the fact that Petkovic made use of a Morrison-come-Lux Interior vocal style probably didn’t ingratiate the band to a slew of folks. Remember, it was new wave time. And anything that seemed even remotely tangential to straight punk was deemed obscene trash. Thanks Tipper.

The band released a few singles – the liner notes of one being penned by Byron Coley – to relatively little fanfare. And upon reaching some deal with Homestead, Death of Samantha released Strungout on Jargon. That’s an obvious smack reference. And no, I have no idea why there’re so many opiates in and around Clevo, that’s just how it is. Visit the ‘revitalized’ Flats and you might get it.

The nine song, thirty minute album wasn’t short on personality with Petkovic snarling his way through each song as he recites obtuse lines about addiction, problematic relationships and sugar. But in a surprisingly sharp succession of tunes, the entirety of Strungout on Jargon possesses only one lull. And for what amounts to a post-punk effort from ’84, that’s astounding.

The lead off track, “Coca Cola & Licorice,” is an aural homage to the Ubus, although vocally Petkovic sounds closest to Interior here. But the heavy ass bass line and screeching clarinet that the song sports could probably get any track over. It’s an odd offering for a number of reasons, but seeing as the band comes off as a relatively serious group, the tongue and cheek intro is a welcomed dismissal of that perception. Elsewhere, on another food inspired track – “Ham & Eggs 99c” – Death of Samantha critiques the general culture. It all amounts to a quick stab at the band’s surroundings. But I guess just a few years on, Petkovic would pull a pay check to write these ideas out in prose. It’s good to hear it all with a back beat, though.

The Dickies Can't Get Serious

The Los Angeles punk scene is generally though of as where the underground element of the genre got it’s real start. While the New York bands may have been around earlier, a great many of them ended up signing to major labels relatively early on. That’s not to say that the Ramones shouldn’t have signed to Sire Records, but what if they hadn’t? Punk might be a whole bunch different. Regardless of that, the crop of SoCal punkers weren’t necessarily snatched up in the same way their east coast brethren were. In part, that was simply because the scene, for whatever reason began and remained more of an underground phenomenon, being focused at the Masque and an assortment of other shabby venues.

The first group on the west coast snagged by a major label, though, was the Dickies. Considering the folks that surrounded them, it’s a bit surprising. The band’s influence is no where near that of its cohort. Quick – name all the bands you’ve seen cover Black Flag. Now, how many have covered songs from the Dickies? That’s obviously not a way by which to judge the validity of any group. But what probably explains this confusing situation is the fact that where Ginn and company focused on some heavy handed and somewhat personal issues in a lyrical sense, the Dickies were kinda the bar band of the SoCal scene. I mean “Banana Splits” being included on your debut album might not take the politicized punkers imagination by storm. But moves like that immediately were able to ingratiate the Dickies to a more general and broad fan base.

It got to the point where the band was even tapped to record the theme for Killer Klowns from Outer Space, which if you haven’t seen it was probably the most terrifying thing I’d every watched at the age of 8. But regardless of the Hollywood connections to the career of the Dickies, the band would release it’s first disc - The Incredible Shrinking Dickies - in 1979. Coupled with that playful title was a clutch of songs which, while maintaining the breakneck speed of other SoCal bands, was able to work in enough goofy playfulness as to make the entire thing a pretty broadly appealing thing.

Again, the songs chosen for inclusion here are as much the cause for the Dickies relatively warm reception as anything else. “Eve of Destruction,” a weird folk/protest song, was given the once over and arguably trumped the Barry McGuire (from the New Christy Minstrels) version recorded just a decade and change prior to the version represented on The Incredible Shrinking Dickies.

Overwhelmingly, the Ramonesy feel that is pretty consistent throughout is one of the reasons that the band was able to be relatively successful in the States and even perhaps part of why the group was able to score a top five single in the UK charts. Of course, the Brits had punkers toping various charts prior, but these were Americans. And they are the Dickies, nothing else.

Chrome and the Industrial Dilemma

It’s not surprising that Chrome has had been cited as an influential act in a variety of disparate genres. Recording for a few decades will have that affect if you’re not a buncha hacks. And these guys were not. Forming in the Bay Area during the mid ‘70s, Chrome initially didn’t include a gentleman named Helios Creed, who would ostensibly become the face of the group in addition to directing the sound that the band would cop over time. And on its ’77 debut, sans Creed, Chrome was still able to rouse a metallic punk racket, even if latter efforts would be hailed as benchmarks for years to come.

If not for the weirdoes in Devo, Chrome might be even more of a startling thing to behold. Whereas the Akron combo was able to insert a bit of jest into its robotic punk gestures, Chrome was all serious circuit boards. The band’s second and third albums, Alien Soundtracks and Half Machine Lip Moves, are comprised of aggressive shards of guitar and keyboard, but are maintained within the frame of punk – most likely as a result of band members not really knowing how else to present the circus that was Chrome. But while these two discs are – and rightly so – perceived as ‘70s classics, it wouldn’t be all too long before they would branch out into new territory - even if each of Chrome’s previous releases had hinted at what the ensembles fourth album would be.

Each of those first three efforts can be seen as the lead up to Red Exposure. In an ever deepening musical relationship, Creed and founding member Damon Edge wrangle John Cyborg deeper into creepy, electro rock territory. No one is an unwitting participant, but this disc would mark the drastic departure from earlier work. Gone are most signs of punky pacings or even too much low pitched snarlings that defined those early releases. “Eyes on Mars” should be considered the exception here. It’s quickened pace and substantially more nasty vocal line is only undercut by that razor thin slice of synth that accompanies it all. Towards the close of the effort, the band even comes off a bit like Hawkwind gliding to the song’s conclusion on a whir of electronics. It works rather well considering the change in approach that the band was in the middle of figuring. Elsewhere, though, there was a perpetual grind of keyboards and a mid paced drum beat to make buoyant the constant warblings of Creed.

The differences between what was going during Red Exposure and other works from Chrome might not alienate fans of the group’s earliest work, but it could. Regardless of that or even the general perception of the band by punkers at large, Chrome seemed new – and much of what they were doing was. Yea, Eno had been kicking around for what must have seemed an eternity by 1980, but he wasn’t terrifying. Chrome was. And this record – if not earlier ones – made it seem as if this Bay Area group was willing to swoop down out of the black of night and abduct your kids. I don’t think they ever did, but Red Exposure would’ve been an appropriate soundtrack.

VKTMS: Inheritance from Earlier Ensembles

The ‘70s Bay Area punk scene has been kinda drowned out in the constant fervor that props up both the New York and Los Angeles scenes. Not to discredit either of the latter named cohort of bands, but as much experimentation was going on within the punk genre (that means with out inserting funk or some other such influence) in and around Nor Cal as anywhere else. Flipper still trips people out – having Krist Novoselic on board probably doesn’t hurt – and Chrome has maintained a weirdo following since the release of those first two albums. But even when contrasted with Rhys Chatham or some other tangential east coast scene-person, the Bay Area bands still maintain enough individuality to distinguish them from peers in other cities.

The Avengers will probably always be one of the best known chick fronted punk groups from the Bay, but VKTMS were able to create a sizable and relatively diverse catalog despite not receiving the acclaim that some other acts were getting tagged with. The band began to coalesce around drummer Louis Gwerder prior to locating Nyna Crawford through an add on a bulletin board. Crawford, the newly mined singer, was ostensibly just a Long Beach native seeking asylum in the north. But after switching up the rest of the band a few times, the resulting line-up included players with a wide enough breadth of musical interest as to inject VKTMS’ punk with an eerie ‘80s rock sound that must have seemed prescient at the time.

Releasing a few singles and only a single full length long player, VKTMS had its work collected by Broken Rekkids  in the form of a self titled anthology back in ’97, either coming as a result of or prompting the brief reformation of the group. The reconstituted band toured around for a bit before again calling it a day. But precluding this occurrence from again happening was the passing of Crawford a few years ago. Rightfully so, the remaining band members have sworn off further performances in order to maintain a proper legacy for the ensemble.

While seeing the band live probably can’t be supplanted by listening to a compilation, that’s the lot that fans are left with. But spread over twenty four tracks of that Broken Rekkids disc is enough of an exploration of the band’s sound to sate any veteran fan or new coming listener.

VKTMS are and should be considered a punk group – obviously. But the incorporation of Crawford’s harmonica on a few tracks – “Goin’ Downtown” specifically – kinda breaks open what punk was to this combo. Even beyond that, the instrumental that is “Mo” ends up coming off as a lost track from the Wipers with it’s surly bar chords and dated guitar sound. The inventiveness of VKTMS can’t be overstated – and while that doesn’t mean that they were ‘experimental’ in any real sense of the term, the group was pretty adept at playing with the already codified form of punk that it inherited from earlier ensembles.

Jay Reatard: A Bit of a Downer

Jay Reatard has been recording music for over a decade now. And while that sounds strange to us, it’s probably as bizarre to Mr. Reatard himself. But over that ten plus years of output, he’s been able to insert himself into the way in which I perceive my life. It’s odd to think that some of his music has stuck in my head for so long as to have defined situations that I’ve gotten through. From driving through some burnt out part of Cleveland in a friends pick up truck to walking down the street in Seattle, despondent due to too many things that couldn’t be summed up in a sentence or so, Reatards’ music has a viable average-guy quality to it all. Of course, the fact that most of it’s about losing his shit probably has at least something to do with all of this.

But since the release of Blood Visions a few years back, his ascent to a sort of indie fame has been startling – if not for him, then for listeners and fans who remember the Reatards in all of their effed up glory. I was able to interview him not too long after his first solo disc was released – prior to fervor that’s grown up around him. And despite the innumerable stories that float around about how much of a difficult dude he is, Reatard seemed like a normal guy on the phone. And it’s through that guise that I view him. He’s not a (pseudo) rock star, he’s a music geek and an Adverts fan.

Since that last full length, Reatard embarked on a sizable singles parade with Matador – even working out a split with Sonic Youth – and most recently releasing a disc with Thee Oh Sees. But spread out over these countless offerings a slew of stylistic derivatives cropped up. It’s not necessarily to his detriment – the palette that he works from has been drastically expanded – but all of this has left the prospect of taking a listen to his new disc, Watch Me Fall, as  a cold one. My initial fears aside, it ended up being better than what I expected – and certainly better than the split with Sonic Youth. But that doesn’t mean that a few places on this newly minted Matador disc aren’t problematic.

Gone from Blood Visions are the overt Adverts’ cops and instead Reatard decides to move into more of a pop territory occupied by the likes of his New Zealand heroes. He’d probably decry that as reductive, but the differences between anything on that first full length and “I’m Watching You” or “Wounded” is pretty apparent. That’s not meant to detract from the inherent value of the work here – there are still a number of stunners like “Faking It” and “Before I Was Caught.” And while some fan(atics) might not fully appreciate to popness of Watch Me Fall, after a few listens everyone’ll be sure to understand. Regardless of that, though, this still seems like a good therapy session for Mr. Reatard. And he needs it – or so I’ve heard.

The Razors in the City of Death

I genuinely don’t know anything about Belgium. I guess I enjoy some of the country’s beer and the Kids are easily one of the best punk bands outta Europe. But beyond that, there’s not a whole lot of info floating around in my head about the country. Presumably due to its relative proximity to England some of the punkers on the continent copped a pretty respectable sound. Of course, that’s again a reference to the Kids specifically. But if every band that came outta Belgium had some sort of relation to that group it’d be pretty impressive. That’s probably too much to ask, but the Razors possessed a sloppy punk acumen that might have been more abrasive and less melodic than the bouncy Kids. The fact remains, though, that what the Razors did release was pretty much golden.

The left leaning country probably had at least a bit of influence over the political ideals of the bands that came outta Belgium. And while punkers always need something to rebel against, some of the espoused views of the Razors could be thought of as sympathetic to its country of origin. “For the Next Generation” might be perceived as some idealistic polemic – and it is – but there’s a sort of unity related in its lyrics that could count as patriotism. All of which brings up the fact that the quartet – occasionally augmented by a sax player – covered a Cock Sparrer track at the end of its only full length. “We Love You” isn’t a skinhead anthem, but Cock Sparrer is generally considered an Oi! band even if aurally, at times, they seem like a hard rock or power pop group. But the inclusion of such a cover speaks volumes about where the Razors were coming from.

In reading anything about the band – and there’s not too much – the Ramones and the Sex Pistols are ceaselessly mentioned. More likely than not, there wasn’t a punk group on the planet during the ‘70s that didn’t listen to those two groups, but to check just those two groups off as influences here is nonsense. While the pseudo-skins of Cock Sparrer were already mentioned, there too seems to be a modicum of Major Accident tossed in as well. The most notable thing about that band – apart from the fact that they were one of earlier combos to completely embrace the imagery of A Clockwork Orange – were their jangly guitars. The same approach isn’t utilized for all of the Razors’ sole full length, but it crops up occasionally amongst all the thrashing.

Even if this self titled album is generally acknowledged as a continental punk classic, apparently some of the earlier singles from the Razors match up pretty well against it all. As rare as this album is, good luck tracking down those other releases. And considering the fact that I had no idea who these folks were without the assistance of the internets, I’d imagine that finding physical copies of any of this is pretty unlikely. Happy hunting.

The Homosexuals Get Gay with Punk

In the catalog of lost punkers, the Homosexuals rank up there with the greatest reverence paid to a group that never really didn’t too much to get beyond the realm of England. Of course, a huge number of short lived bands could say something similar. But considering the Homos existed for roughly five years during a period of time when punk seemed almost like a commercially viable music, it’s only the band’s disregard for success that the group remains little more than a name to the majority of punk enthusiasts. But England was a heady place and that was a rough time – from all reports at least. The eventual dissolution of the group, though, only served to bury the Homos underneath a pile of spiky haired nonsense that would end up wrecking the genre for a good long time.

In approaching the Homos recorded work, though, there are only two realistic avenues to tread upon – unless you have hundreds of spare dollars and enough time to hunt down those low run original releases. And considering one of the group’s releases subsequent to its demise is an 81 song box set, which by its pricing precludes it from most people’s collection, we’ll instead use The Homosexuals’ CD as a basis for the following dissection – well it wasn’t originally a cd, but ya know, we gotta work with what we’re given sometimes.

Anyway, the group is usually explained as an ensemble that attempted to disengage from the punk scene through the use of its name – before becoming the Homosexuals, they were simply christened the Rejects. Of course that may have caused some confusion considering the popularity of the Cockney Rejects, but the newly named band ended up losing its drummer as a result of the startling switch. In this calculated ‘departure’ from the punk scene the Homosexuals really seemed to still sound similar to some of the more thoughtful acts as opposed to the Exploited or whoever else was knocking about.

Wire and Gang of Four are generally the touchstones that get checked when attempting to draw up some crew of weirdos for the Homos to fit into. But Wire moved into much more ambient territory and while the Homos were capable of gettin’ funky, the really didn’t sound too much like the Gang of Four. Instead, Alternative Television seems to be the most sonically related to these folks. Both attempted to incorporate dubby bass lines while maintaining a razor thin sounding guitar and quick pace. Those same bass lines may have cropped up in the aforementioned groups but not in tandem with these other inclinations.

But to simplify a group that was able to cover so much ground only does them a disservice. The Homosexuals were as intelligent a group as their name was troublesome. Considering the group’s active disassociation with fame and or good fortune, it’s nothing short of miraculous that the music has made it through to this digital age. And while the Homos don’t really serve as an antecedent to any current movement, hearing them give it ago should inspire at least a few folks out there.

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