RBF’s Eclectic Excitement Playlist – October 2022

RBF’s Eclectic Excitement Playlist – October 2022

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2022
Images from the Internet

Here is my limited monthly column of some relatively cult music, be it due to initial limited release, or just having fallen out of the mainstream eye. These will be of a multitude of genres, from punk to folk, to just out there.

The songs are listed alphabetically by first letter of the artist or group, and not in a “ratings” order. Art is subjective, so I hope you like these as much as I enjoy them.

Note: There is no advertising on this page, so I will not be making anything off the work of others.

Babes in Toyland
“Bruise Violet”
WMG
Part of Seattle’s Riot Girrrl scene, they were overshadowed (as was everyone else) by Hole, though I thought this group was more interesting. The song is about the Kat Bjelland (vox) and Courtney Love rivalry. I always felt the Riot Girrrl movement was more interesting than the testosterone-fueled concurrent grunge sound. I’m glad I was able to see them live at CBGB.

Get Wet
“Morton Street”
Boardwalk / Columbia Records
Sherri Beachfront has an amazingly powerful voice, and for a brief moment of time, it was recognized on a major scale, with a relative hit single of “Lonely” and a cover of “Where the Boys Are.” The music is pure pop with Zecca’s keyboard soaring. I interviewed them at the time, just as their album was released. There is a lot of good music with a bend toward the theatrical on the album, but this song always felt the strongest, if not mainstream radio friendly. This is the live version from a show at the Ritz where I was also in attendance.

HER and Kings County
“My Backyard”
WMG
Mixing country, rock and a tad of rap, HER hails from Brooklyn, but has since moved to Nashville to be closer to the source. She has a good voice for both country and rock, and has a new album. Not to be confused with current rapper H.E.R.

Lizzie Borden and the Axes
“Out of Touch”
Never Found Guilty Records
I first heard this Boston pop ditty on a local indie music channel (“V66”) in BossTown. They were pretty popular on their own turf, but I find this very infectious melody keep popping up in my head all these years later.

The Pandoras
“Stop Pretending”
Rhino Records
The band is better known for “Hot Generation,” but I like this cold-hearted attack so much more. They were commonly crossing over between garage and rock, until the death of lead singer Paula Peirce. Although they were a California band, I saw them play once at Irving Plaza, in New York.

Patsy Montana and the Prairie Ramblers
“I Want to Be a Cowboy’s Sweetheart”
Melotone Records
It’s funny that this should be here, because at one time this was such a major hit, it is the very first record disc (78) by a woman to ever to sell a million copies, way back in 1935. It’s definitely the yodel that makes the song, but I love the lyrics, as well as Patsy’s voice. Lyrically, a sweet other-side to Doris Day’s “Button’s and Bows.”

The Planet Smashers
“Fabrication”
Stomp Records
I actually know very little about this ska punk band from Montreal, but their intensity is striking, and the social statement of the song also attracts me. Should be right up there with The Specials, rather than the more amusing-toned Madness. The drive in this song is what helps propel the message.

The Slickee Boys
“Ya Gotta Tell Me Why”
Dacoit Records
Man, not only were the Slickee Boys a great band out of the DC area, like the Fleshtones, they were even more so live. Luckily, I saw them more than once at CBGB. They are better known for “Heart On” and their cover of “Glendora,” but the beat and excitement of this song keep me coming back.

The Speedies
“Let Me Take Your Photo”
Golden Disc Records
Like the Jag’s “Back of My Hand,” there was a time when this power pop song was all over the clubs. Not surprising, though, because it has an extremely catchy chorus. Happily, I saw them open for The Tourists (who would change their name to the Eurythmics) at the Bottom Line, in New York.

The Vipers
“Cheated and Lied”
Passport Records / Jem Records
When the garage revival was at its height during the early-to-mid-‘80s, one of the regulars on the scene were this garage pop band, led by Jon Weiss, who later helped organize the CaveStomp! series of shows. I interviewed them when their Outta the Nest LP was released. Their “Nothing’s From Today” is better known, but I like this one even more.

Review: The Incoherents

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2020

Images from the Internet

The Incoherents

Directed by Jared Barel

Loaded Barrel Studios; Starna Productions; Gravitas Ventures

103 minutes, 2019

www.theincoherents.com/

https://itunes.apple.com/us/movie/the-incoherents/id1501037491

Every decade seems to have some nostalgia for twenty years or so earlier, especially when it comes to music. The ‘70s had American Graffiti (1973) and “Happy Days” with a resurgence of early rock and roll, for the ‘80s it was for the British Invasion and ‘60s garage sounds, the ‘90s was looking back at the First Wave punk, the early 21 Century saw a resurgence in hardcore and bands like the Sex Pistols reformed, and now we’re looking back at grunge and Indie rock, with bands like the Pixies, Soundgarden, and even the Dictators coming back for reunion tours. And that’s where this release starts to take off.

The imaginary band in question in this dramedy is the titular The Incoherents, an Indie band that had some friction back in the 1990s, released an album that had some cult-level fans, and then the reality of family and responsibility of employment started to kick in, with he band dissolving into some-normal lives filled with “coulda-been” dreams.

That’s when the nostalgia plays its hand. The ex-bandmates are all in their forties at this point; their rock stardom aspirations, like so many, have fallen to the wayside, such as vocalist and rhythm guitarist Bruce (lefty Jeff Auer, who also wrote the film and co-penned the songs), lead guitarist Jimmy (Alex Emanuel, who is the other half of the songwriting), bassist Keith (Walter Hoffman) and drummer Tyler (Casey Clark). And like the Blues Brothers, they decide to put the band back together again.

Bruce is working as a paralegal drone in a law office (a job Auer actually once performed), Tyler in a wedding band, Keith as a city planner who is vegan (and everything that it stereotypically entails), and Jimmy runs the Lucky 13 bar in Brooklyn (as an FYI, Josephine Blownaparte, lead singer of punk band Chesty Malone and the Slice-‘Em-Ups, who I’ve seen a few times, was a bartender there at one point). Other venues shown include Boston’s The Middle East and the late, great Maxwell’s in Hoboken (during its later “Tavern” days).

I like that they don’t talk down the viewing audience. For example, when Keith reminisces, “Remember the first time we played CBGBs, and I realized I was standing in DeeDee’s spot…” They don’t feel a need to explain who or where, they just go with the flow and assume the audience is astute enough to know. I mean, if you’re into Billy Eilish, Toby Keith, or Drake, I’m going to guess that you’re not going to be watching this film anyway. There are so many name drops, both mainstream and obscure, that there are plenty of a-ha moments guaranteed to make you smile when you make the connection. Make sure you check out the tee-shirts that are worn by the cast throughout, which range from mainstream (like AC/DC) to the obscure. Of course, there are multiple CBGB shirts of various hues.

What is nice is that so many of the people involved in this film are also related to the music business in one form or another, including cameos by the two relatively big acting names: Annette O’Toole won an Oscar as songwriter (for A Mighty Wind), and Amy Carlson, who is recently known from Blue Bloods, has her own music label (Frenchkiss Records) and has been in a grunge band or two. Then there are the occasional musical cameos, like Chris Barron, the vocalist of the Spin Doctors, Richard Barone (The Bongos!), Fiona Silver, and Joe Hurley.

And how are they as a band? Well, it’s kind of grunge pop that was popular in the ‘90s without the hard edge of the Seattle sound, mixing in harmonies with crashing guitars, and no riff that will necessarily stick in your brain with an ear worm beyond the song (a general flaw of rock’n’roll in that time period, in my opinion), but they are okay. The musicianship is fine, as they play their own material, which I respect. The sound is palatable for any general audience that would be watching this (again, not necessarily fans of mainstream pop or some other genres).

A couple of musical aspects that impressed me is how the film also showcases some other bands as well as this one, and that the characters feel real, rather than like cartoons (e.g., Sid and Nancy, Bohemian Rhapsody, Room 37: The Mysterious Death of Johnny Thunders, and especially The Dirt).

While the story follows a bit of a “history of a band” formula – the band (re)forms, woo-hoo exciting moments as things start to go well, and then (old) resentments (re-)arise within the band. But this also plays around with it, giving it more texture and history, with the addition of family and work responsibilities of 40-something-year-olds, and those lives clashing with the backstage antics of sex, drugs/alcohol and the temptation of groupies. Yes, even for those in their 40s. Rather than overwhelming the audience with excess like they did in the telenovela version of the aforementioned The Dirt, this is more realistic for bands at this level of (burgeoning?) fame.

Whether you like this genre of music or gave up on it by the time grunge came around in the early 1990s, the story is still compelling and the sound is not offensive (i.e., not Top 10 sonically flattened and auto-tuned). Even though it hammers home the truth about the mixture of music, business and the overabundance of social media in today’s scene, it is a good story, with pithy moments and above average acting.

Speaking of nostalgia, this review is dedicated to Little Richard, who passed away the day it was written.

DVD Review: “I Need That Record!”

Text and live photos © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen
Film images from the Internet

I Need That Record!: The Death (or Possibly Survival) of the Independent Record Store
Directed, produced and written by Brendan Toller
See of Sound, 2009
77 minutes, USD $14.95
Ineedthatrecord.com
Seeofsound.com
MVDvisual.com

We all know of an indie record store that has closed, such as Jennifer Flynn’s Home of the Hits in Buffalo, NY (nee Play It Again Sam’s) and Friday Night Dave Olka’s Record Mine, in Kenmore, NY. They were places to meet with friends, get a few lessons (be it historical or what was new on the shelves) from fellow collectors and/or lovers of music, or just to spend some time browsing and checking the racks on one’s own. The local stores are suffering and shuttering throughout the land, and this process is the focus of the documentary I Need That Record!, including places in Connecticut, Nashville, Minnesota, Dayton, and Chicago.

Let’s start with form. Using lots of interviews with store owners and workers, musicians, and various fans (mostly male, apparently), director Brendan Toller does quite well in taking the focus off of himself (unlike, say, Michael Moore) and places it squarely on the topic at hand (you only hear his voice as narrator and interviewer). He uses stock footage and animation that tends to be manipulated and animated in quite amusing fashions, as well as original art by Matt Newman; he uses these to presents a ton of facts and numbers, without any of it being preachy or distracting, and more importantly it is never boring. Also flowing throughout is a solid soundtrack, including the DVD title by The Tweeds, a few by the Black Keys (including in-store live footage), and the Kinks’ appropriate “I’m Not Like Everybody Else,” the latter clearly geared toward the mentality of the collector.

I took notes during the entire DVD and ended up with a few pages, which I won’t repeat here much, but just know that it’s mind-blowing to see just how manipulated the whole independent record store genre is by the major companies and big box corporations. As a collector states here, the big box stored fought to close the indie stores, and then were shuttered themselves by changes in technology. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The storyline is broken up into various sections. The first shows that with the indie stores closing, what is left are mall stores such as Wal-mart, who carry only top 50 releases. W-m sells 1 out of every 5 CDs sold (they also have a clutch hold on magazines, but I’m digressing again). This process was started by major label’s putting “bean counters,” as Legs McNeil says herein, in charge of the companies, answering to the stockholder’s need for profit, rather than a central company head, or even Board, who will nurture talent. Artist and Development was the first to go, and the performer now is expected to have a hit right off, rather than a steady climb to the top. That’s what happened at Sire, with bands like the Dead Boys and DMZ, or at Warner Bros. with Willie Alexander, even back in the ‘70s. Not selling fast enough? Good-bye. Enter homogenization.

The second section of the documentary deals with the corporate end, including what the record companies are willing to do to promote (or not); for example, Good Charlotte (an overrated band in the so-called mainstream punk vein, like Blink 182 or Green Day…yes, I’m going there) got 250 spins at a station for a payout of $17,000 by Sony. Clinton did a “Reagan” by passing the Telecommunications Act in 1996 (sometimes good guys do bad things), thereby removing the restrictions on the number of outlets owned by a single company. Before the Act, less than 65 radio stations were owned by major corporations, and today, Clear Channel alone owns 99.9% of the top 250 markets. That’s why you will hear crap like Limbaugh, but Air America went under. Lady Caca – I mean Gaga – produces “music” that is banal and thumping, and yet is played on every station, or even Good Charlotte types, rather music with any kind of balls like, say, DOA or Anti-Flag (never mind Monty Love or McRackins). No, Clear Channel stations play the same songs 73% of the time*. I’ve never listened to Justin Bieber (Beiber?) or Lady Caca, and yet I know their music just from walking though malls, emanating from storefronts, passing cars, newscasts, etc. It’s a drowning glut.

The next section contends with the blow to independent music dealt by the launch of MTV in the 1980s. Mike Watt, once of the Minutemen, comments widely on this topic in this film. While he sounds a bit disorientated in his manner, what he is saying is quite smart and is worth paying attention. The selectivity of MTV had a strong effect on what was released; if it couldn’t be played on MTV, it wasn’t supported, i.e., if the band didn’t make a video or it was not accepted on the station, it was not promoted.

Wal-mart leads off the next part. They undermine the indie stores by undercutting them. Music and videos are viewed as loss leader by the chain, to get people into the stores, so if they lose money on the music, they more than make up for it by selling the music player. As Rob Miller, of the indie Bloodshot Records label says here quite well, they are more interested in moving product than defining culture. In some markets, indie stores buy their CDs from big box stores to sell in their own shops, because they can get a better deal from them than with the actual major record companies.

Marketing is another section, describing (in part), how CD prices have been rising, making sheer profit for the labels (it is incredibly less expensive to make CDs over vinyl, but the cost to purchase is so much more). Also explained here is how the computer and MP3s are having a major impact on the larger labels, who sued companies like mp3.com and Napster into freebie non-existence. Despite that, most historic music is ignored by the bigger labels, as 80% of the market sales are through CDs, and yet more than 50% of recorded music is never put on CD.

Here, the opinion of those interviewed varies. For example, Glenn Branca states he likes the value and selection online and buys most of his music that way, but Thurston Moore, of Sonic Youth, calls online buying lonely and boring in comparison to record stores. Lenny Kaye eloquently states that he likes the ease of downloading, but misses the “moment in time” connection of what he is buying. Leg McNeil, in his own “I gotta be different and difficult” manner, states he buys online because he is not interested in “community.”

It is here the “possible survival” part comes in, with major labels not being able to cope (yet) with indie releases being so viral, so presently the only place to get them is on-line or at an indie store. With modern technology, anyone can record themselves and sell it. For example, Anthony Kapfer of Brooklyn has been promoting releases by his own bands, such as Kung Fu Grip, quite well without the help of a label; you’re likely to find his CDs online or at indie stores, because big box chains are not going to deal with his sales level, but that won’t stop him or like-minded musicians like him.

Between these DIY artists and a resurgence in vinyl, which will not be found in big box stores, there will be a need for the chance of an indie store revival. Meanwhile, I have found many of the “community” of collectors meeting haphazardly over boxes of vinyl or CDs at garage sales and flea markets (implied in this film). Collectors will find a way, and hopefully, so will the indie stores. As more and more chains fold, such as Tower and Virgin, this may open a vacuum of need for a way to find those hard to locate bands.

I have only touched a tip of what is expressed in I Need That Record!, a well made release that should serve as a wake-up call to the way music is distributed, and the tributaries surrounding that output.

The extras are quite interesting, consisting of over two hours of longer interview pieces by people who comment throughout the film, such as DIY do-or-die Ian MacKaye (whose comments about listening to the radio are priceless), Mike Watt, Thurston Moore (who comes across as a sweet guy who you would be likely to meet at a record shop talking over tunes), an annoyingly abrasive Leg McNeil, Lenny Kaye (who I feel said the most heartfelt comments), and an appropriately abrasive chain-smoking Glenn Branca (who helped start the No Wave movement in the late ‘70s).

Fortunately, there are still many great indie stores out there hanging on, such as House of Guitars in Irondiquoit, NY, Rockit Scientist and Bleecker Bob’s in Greenwich Village, Turn it Up! In Northampton, MA, and Vinyl Diner, Vinyl Exchange, and Tramps in Saskatoon.

For me, this documentary made me think of some die-hard record collectors I’ve known in my life, such as (in no particular order) Bernie Kugel, Mad Louie the Vinyl Junkie, Friday Night Dave, the Doctor of Madness, Joe Viglione, Mike McDowell, Kenne Highland, Tom Bingham, Jeff Tamarkin, Greg Prevost, Cary Baker, Gary Pig Gold, Bruce Farley Mowat, Joe Bonomo, Richie Unterberger, Miriam Linna and Billy Miller, and so many others. We’re out there, and we will find each other one way or another.

* In the early ‘80s, I got into an argument with talk show host / record company exec Jonathan “Everyone’s Gone to the Moon” King about what he considered successful radio, which consisted of just this very commonality and replaying of records over and over. I’m sorry to say it looks like the was ahead of his time, and he won.

A Rambling Look at Independent Music

Photos from the Internet

I’ve been writing music reviews now since about 1975, when I was editor of the Scepter, the newspaper of Kingsborough Community College, which even predates my fanzine by two years. To quote Jeff Salen’s line from the Tuff Darts song, “It’s all for the love of rock and roll.”

Before 1975, I was more of a film person than one interested in music. Yeah, I enjoyed listening to it casually, hearing new stuff sporadically, and even seeing some amazing shows (Slade with Aerosmith opening, Roxy Music where I took my first-even in-concert photos on an instamatic, Alice Cooper, Melanie, Dylan, Jennifer Warnes, Mary Travers, Elephant’s Memory, Brownsville Station, and a nascent version of the Fast were some). But music was more peripheral of my interests.

What changed my perspective was June 20, 1975, a date I’ve mentioned on my blog often: it was the night Bernie talked me (dragged me, more accurately) into going to CBGB's for the first time. At some point I’ll tell that story, but for now I’ll stick to something a little more esoteric.

Similar type of backpack

Back in the ‘70s, even before my club-going days started, I wore a backpack, which I would realign the straps and wear over one shoulder. You may ask what is the big deal? Back then, not only did no one else do it, but I had to go to an army/navy store to find one. It was always khaki, and made out of canvas, which is a quite sturdy material…though I had to replace it every three years or so from wear. As I started to buy albums, it would make life easier to carry them around from store to store.

There are so many ways going to clubs like CBGB’s and Max’s Kansas City, and seeing all these unsigned bands who were fighting just to put out their own music, altered my way of life. True, I never ever punked out: the closest I came is when my friend Nancy lent me her leather Ramones-style jacket for about a year around 1980 (through an extremely hot summer, but I still wore it gladly and proudly). Other than the leather, I was already dressing like the Ramones (sans long hair) even before then, with a tee-shirt and jeans. One example of a way I did change is that I basically stopped wearing brand names, other than possibly Lees pants and PF Flyers sneakers. As the Jordaches and shirts with alligator icons starting becoming popular, I associated them with the whole mainstream bland sounds of arena rock, soft rock, and disco. I stopped wearing polyester (not that I had much, but people gave it as gifts on birthdays and the like), which back then was hard to do because it seemed everything was made of the crappy synthetic material. I’ve always liked my pants straight legged and belted around my waist, not flared at the bottom and hip-hugging (which always felt like my pants were falling down). Ironically, the CBGB’s shirt itself would become a brand, thanks in large part to Guns ‘N Roses.

An early Ork Records release

One of the big lessons of the period was how important independent music was. By the early '70s, mainstream media was busy with genres I would never be interested in, such as lame rock (Kansas, Yes, Rush), hair metal (Bon Jovi, Poison), and especially disco. When the bands I was listening to starting putting out their own music, or small labels like Ork and Stiff launched, it was easy to go down to Greenwich Village, especially record stores like Discophile on 8th Street, and just pick them up as they came out. By 1976, and especially 1977, it was much harder to do that, since there were so many coming out each week. Plus, indie records were usually much more expensive at sometimes 1976 $5 each. Luckily, in the cooler stores, independent and local releases were usually in their own bins, so one didn’t need to weed through thousands of mainstream singles to find the ones being looked for.

In 1977, I had been tired of having problems getting my writing about indie music published in college newspapers, that were only interested in what was on the radio, so I decided to start my own fanzine, FFanzeen (whose legacy is the blog you are now reading). As I started publishing, I wrote to indie labels to let them know of my existence. There was no email back then, so it took work to find the labels in the stores, write down their addresses, write each letter one-by-one, and mail them out, never knowing if it was reaching anyone (indie labels came and went quite quickly, much like many fanzines). Slowly but surely, review copies of records, and even some cassettes, started coming my way. And I respected each of them, even if I didn’t like a particular band, because (a) I knew the burden of work and personal cost of them on the bands/labels, and (b) I was aware of their rarity. Even now, many of the records on my shelf have not been re-released as CDs. Some of the labels did find some relative success after a while, like Alternative Tentacles and SST, but there are the smaller ones like Eat Records, which will probably never see a reissue unless they have a devoted label owner, such as Bob Richert with his Gulcher label, willing to pay for re-releases out of his own pocket, or until someone like Greg Shaw emerges to collect them and release it in a “Nuggets” format.

An early SST release

Now that technology has reached a level of where everyone with a computer can record their own music and release it by burning disks, indies are both more important and at the same time damaging. Burning disks are putting an end to many of the ways collectors function, with virtual music (such as mp3s) replacing the physical (CDs, LPs, etc.). This is shown in the demise of Tower Records, and Virgin on the brink of vanishing. Another result is also the disappearance of venues of live music. There is so much music being put out now, that the number of bands that can become popular through exposure is almost only available again through mainstream media outlets, such as the radio. People don’t know what to listen to anymore; since the music has become as disposable as the bands.

College radio is probably the most important outlet for the independent release, and it is being flooded by home grown sounds that they don’t know what to do with it. More music is being released yearly than can be listened to. At a college radio conference I attended (held by the IBS), one of the panels was about how a band can get someone at the station to actually listen to their output. The station managers and DJs were just overwhelmed, and most of it just got shuttered aside; even college radio personnel won’t even listen to virtual recordings anymore, only CDs.

An example of a recent indie release

And yet, through it all, I still applaude indie music. I revel in indie music. While I won’t write reviews about anything other than physical disks, I still encourage bands to produce their own sounds – though I beg of them not to do it by themselves only, and to have a separate person not in the band do the final mixing or engineering, because self-indulgence is the biggest hindrance to recording. I call it the “let’s use every dial on the console” syndrome. With the lack of venues, self-recording is a stellar way to judge where one’s band is at any point in their development.

I’m not sure where independent music is heading, whether it will continue to grow into an mp33,000, or if CDs / DVDs (or other formats) will completely vanish. I hope they won’t disappear. I like the physicality of the plastic of CDs or vinyl of records, much as I enjoy the feel of negatives when I photograph.

Yes, I am aware that it is the collector in me that wants the tangible over the virtual. The soundbyte of an MP3 always felt more disposable, and somehow less “valuable” than the physical disk. For me, the electronic song is more like a placeholder, sort of like the listening station at a music store where one can hear what something sounds like to make the decision to purchase, but not to cherish. It is okay for an iPod jukebox situation, but I want the box. I want to read about what I am listening to in a booklet that comes with the disk, or to admire the art of a record cover, not to read about it only online. I want to hold onto the cardboard album cover or CD case as I listen to it, much as a sport fan will hold a football or basketball while watching a game. Somehow, holding an object makes me feel like part of the process of the music, like the end product is special and meaningful. In my mind, virtual = demo, whereas the CD is the final product, even if they are the same sound.

Perhaps I’m old fashioned that way.