Lemonheads - 'Lick' (Taang!)

The Lemonheads mean way more to me than they should, but I suspect a lot of people of my demographic cohort (white middle class American born 1980) feel the same way. None of this has much to do with Lick, or their other earlier records, but everything to do with the one that comes next (in this project, not Creator). But Lick has stuck around in my collection for awhile because I get a kick out of it, though there's only a few songs to justify keeping it. I think Ben Deily's songs are generally OK though the Lemonheads of course improved when he left and the Juliana Hatfield lineup happened. Some early Deily punkers such as  'Second Chance' are pretty great, and 'Ever' is his gem here; but Lick starts to bring in the jangle on Dando's songs, which are reaching towards the beauty he'd find later, so the distance between the two as songwriters is really made more evident. Deily's are just kind of a mess here – the Italian language 'Cazzo di Ferro' is bad throwaway soft metal, sounding like what happens when pop-punk bands try to get heavy (the post-Descendents band All is often guilty of this); '7 Powers' is driven by his reedy voice and a savage guitar solo, which disguises the fact that it's not so well-writtenng.  'Anyway' approaches replayability, but it's a stretch as well; we have to wait to 'Ever', the closer, for his peak. But Dando here really starts to shine. His gentle drawl, when combined with the amped up energy behind opener 'Mallo Cup', makes instant punk bubblegum magic; that's one of the best Lemonheads songs and the best song on the album, so it's a shame it comes first. This is the one with their cover of Suzanne Vega's 'Luka' on it, which starts with a 'noise' guitar intro and gets pretty crunchy during the choruses; it is not one of my favourite Lemonheads songs, but I guess the one that people remember most from this record. After 'Luka' though, it's hard to get through the next few songs until 'Ever' arrives, but maybe I'm just excited to get through this LP so I can write about the next one that's on deck. The real joy of Lick comes from flipping over the cover and looking at the band photo on the back, which sums up the Lemonheads perfectly. They're young as hell, and cute, and just a little bit of faux-tough there too; they could be a youth crew band or a Christian rock ensemble, and that also sums up the musicianship – they could have gone in a lot of directions, and on this record they started to.

The Karl Hendricks Trio - 'Sings About Misery and Women' (Fiasco/Peas Kor)

I love the title of this album, and Wayno's artwork for once is a bit less reminiscent of 80s Daniel Clowes and more expressive; young Karl's demeanour on the cover + Tim & Tom in the background gives this a melancholy flavour before the stylus is even lowered. The bricks and foliage and background statues would imply an autumnal New England liberal arts college setting, though I'm sure it's actually depicting Pittsburgh which has some monuments of its own, y'know, and some pretty OK foliage. Anyway, it all comes together to make a rather 'emo' record, though of course Karl Hendricks has always been 'emo', even though his sound and style bore little resemblance to the hardcore-based scene of the same name, which was also taking place in 1993. This is the second consecutive Karl Hendricks LP with misapplied labels (what was your problem, early 90s Peas Kor?) so as I forgot, I started with side B, and the crunchy 'Women and Strangers'. This may actually be the sequence that I became more used to and slightly prefer, since it places 'You're A Bigger Jerk Than Me' as track 2, which is a good place for it. This is one of Karl's most enduring songs, and a good transitional song between the earlier, poppier material and the tendency towards heavy guitar rock which later Trio/Rock Band followed. Throughout, there's no shortage of balladry - 'Flowers Avenue' and 'Romantic Stories from the War' are plaintive, searching for an outlet for a heart being overpumped with blood and regret. 'I Didn't Believe in Gravity' is the singer-songwriter strumming an acoustic guitar, the indie rock folk moment, and a throwback to Karl's pre-Trio self-released cassettes. When the distortion pedals are stepped on, it really works, and the indie rock vibe is felt in the juxtaposition between slow, arpeggiated moments and strummed electric guitar chords, always on the verge of breaking out ('I Don't Need Your Shit', 'Do You Like To Watch Me Sob?'). There's something almost minimal and economical about the early Trio - the 4/4 steady beats were a nice antidote to the time-signature obsessed sounds of Don Caballero and their followers, who were coming out of Pittsburgh at the same time. Karl's voice is mixed higher here than on Buick Electra and this confidence carries through in the playing. I get sad listening to this not because of the lyrics (which never wallow so much in the misery as find a comfort in it), but because of his recent passing; there's little more I can say to express what a tragedy it was, and hope that his music continues to find new fans.

Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band - 'Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller)' (Warner Bros.)

The return to form, always slightly disappointing once you've heard bootlegs of the original Bat Chain Puller, but still pretty solid. 'Tropical Hot Dog Night' shows how bouncy Latin rhythms and brassy trumpet accents can coexist with the growling freakazoid Van Vliet from ten years earlier. There's a bit of gasping and wheezing but the vocal range is still there, and I dig the pervy undercurrent here because it's all bit creepier when he's a bit older and the 70's have (mostly) happened. It's a compromise, sure, but it feels genuine to me. When I listen to this I feel pretty good, but not insane; 1978 was a downer time for a lot of people and it's funny to think about this coming out alongside the Ramones, Television, and other edgy youth music. There isn't a whole lot of attitude here, as the focus seems to be more about precision. I like it crispy. 'Apes-Ma' is a genteel reminder of the man's poetic gift and such an awesome coda to this record; flip it over and start again cause 'The Floppy Boot Stomp' feels nearly epic. 'When I See Mommy I Feel Like a Mummy' is a top-tapper that reminds me of the really guttural, viscious rawk from Lick My Decals Off, Baby. 'You Know You're A Man' is supposed to be like that too, but it just reminds me of a more awkward, limp version of something that Devo did much better in their Hardcore days. I usually skip 'Harry Irene', another dud track, just because the trad sieve loses me; the wavering warbling voice as well ... I dunno, it works in other songs but this feels like some more of the Buster Poindexter style - not DVV's strength. Except for when he shouts 'What's the meaning in this?' because I still haven't figured it out. The lineup doesn't feel quite as gelled, perhaps because there's so many different instruments on it. Jeff Tepper is the only Beefheart guitarist who I can really recall - Ed Marimba is limited to just the marimba and percussion though he could slice out guitar riffs pretty fucking nicely too. I guess using real names here was supposed to show some sort of maturation or maybe they did that on the two records I skipped owning too; but the tucked-in shirts?

American Analog Set - 'The Golden Band' (Emperor Jones)

Source: Bought at Paul's, new, when it came out.

You'll find lots of love for the American Analog Set at Dislocated Underbite Spinal Alphabetised Encourager Templates - without apology, without shame, these are records we keep going back to: pop music of the highest class. And this may be their finest statement, a midpoint of their career, shifting from shut-in navel-pickers to the more lyric-oriented later records. Lyrically we're dealing with cities, cultures, and a context long-gone from my life but I still connect with the moody buzzing keyboards and basslines of the 'New Drifters' suite or the subtle but essential handclaps in 'The Wait'. After a million listens these songs still sound like the familiar new. 'The Golden Band' is heavy breathing and household appliances; 'A Good Friend is Always Around' equals fallen leaves crunching underfoot. It ends with 'Will the Real Danny Radnor Please Stand?', which steps along with a maudlin elegance, perhaps the eulogy for my own adolescence. A treasure.

25 Rifles - 'Third World War' (no label)

Source: I'd guess that I got this from Ross on 22 May, 2002.

I don't know anything about 25 Rifles or why this 4-song EP is in my accumulation, but this is ripe territory for one of those 'Messthetics' compilations (if they aren't already on one). Side 1 opens with 'Hey Little Girl' which is not a Syndicate of Sound cover, but instead a wimpy college rock tune with a posturing Elvis Costello ripoff singer. The second song picks things up a bit, attempting to combine a slowed-down Clash vibe with some R.E.M. jangle, but stuck on infinite loop. Side two begins with the title track and the Costelloposter is back with another limp yet bouncy tune, managing to anticipate the Violent Femmes or the dBs yet a bit more British. The final track, definitely a keeper, is a cover of Neil Young's 'Revolution Blues' in party-rock mode, modified a bit with some subpar soloing. The band's name is a lyric in this song. The back cover just contains a big scrawl of "Dead soldiers" with soldiers crossed out and 'bored!" written instead. And at the very bottom, a smaller "Don't forgret to vote!" Yes, we can.