Lemonheads - 'It's A Shame About Ray' (Atlantic)

I alluded to in the Lick post about how I think this record holds a special place in the hearts of many people from my age and background. I base this assertion on an ongoing, continual discovery of peers who share a my unbridled love for this record. Which is understandable - it's not only the only consistent Lemonheads album, but it's absolutely the peak of Dando's songwriting power, where a perfect storm (no doubt driven somewhat by his descent into heavy drug addiction) converged and he turned out a bubblegum-punk masterpiece. But it's also a product of its time; that time for me came when I was 13 years old, and my days were spent dreaming of a greater life ahead –– one that would be entirely achieved through music. The alternative/grunge explosion happened and Ray was no doubt a part of it, even though the sounds within are just pure pop, borrowing deftly from other genres (country-rock in 'Hannah & Gabi', folk-blues on 'My Drug Buddy', and a nod to light opera with the cover of 'Frank Mills'). The marketing arm of Atlantic records was clear to position Dando as an alterna-hunk heartthrob and sure, he was fine at that. But I never cared about pin-up mags or pop stardom; to me, Ray was a roadmap to exploring my adolescence through the culture of then-underground white guitar music. The air of mystery surrounding this record evoked more questions than answers (who were these characters: Ray, Fiona, Allison, etc. –– and that mysterious car photograph on the back?) so it felt like a complete world, one that I wanted to dive into. I'd like to say that twenty-five+ years of hindsight have shown this wonder to be superficial, but I still feel something every time I spin this. Expanding my knowledge of music has only brought me around to appreciate this more; maybe he just struck lightning in a bottle here, but I think there's a sophistication to these songs, at least some of them, that can be found after they sink in a bit. It's a nostalgia trip, sure, but the way I've shared this nostalgia with peers who grew up in different places and different environments says something about the connecting power of music through subculture, something that has likely been eroded by the Spotify generation. I don't even know if I have specific memories of this record, or more general ones; of being 14, taking the bus to the University campus and walking around the buildings, sneaking into the computer labs, looking at magazines and records in the various independent shops. Looking at the fashion I aspired to ape – Doc Martens boots, carefully-curated t-shirts, the choices that declared 'indie' rather than hippie or metal or punk, while conveniently overlooking that this record was on Atlantic. Dreaming of finding love, or rather companionship, and wondering if there was someone out there like the woman on the cover, with a minimal approach towards style, a take on femininity that rejected make-up and hairspray, and an intellectual sophistication that could be conveyed through the symbols revealed - backpack, shoes, haircut. I didn't model myself after Evan Dando, not in the slightest, as I think even then I found his cute-dumb smile annoying; I loved It's a Shame About Ray despite Dando, and still do. Even back then I had the pre-'Mrs. Robinson' version of the CD, and now I have the LP which also omits that unlikely hit, and that's the only way I know this record. Was I 'starting to happen' at this time? Absolutely, and I wonder now when I stopped. 

Roy Harper - 'Folkjokeopus' (World Pacific)

I wish I had the UK edition of this because the cover is nicer - this has a circusy typeface that jars against the moody, moustache-heavy photo on the cover here. Actually, Harper looks like Howard Moon from The Mighty Boosh on this sleeve, though the sounds herein are far from the scat-jazz stylings the fictitious Mr. Moon would endorse. This is Harper's third album and I'm sad not to own the second as Come Out Fighting Genghis Smith is a fantastic album where the Harper sound begins to come together and emerge as a distinct vision, rather than a 'product of the times'. But Folkjokeopus ain't bad at all, probably one of my overall favourites, and Shel Talmy's production is really evident - generally a good thing, except that  some of the rockers start to sound the same. The unnamed rhythm section has a real boogie-woogie bass player and several songs' reliance on minor key strummed acoustic chords before a major resolution leads to a samey feeling throughout. One would be forgiven for confusing snippets of 'Seargent Sunshine', 'Zaney Janey' and 'She's the One', although they are pretty different compositions. The first two are fun and pleasant pop songs, one the perfect album opener and the second perhaps Harper's counterpoint to Nick Drake's 'Hazy Jane' - I like to think they are about the same woman and reflect the dispositions of the songwriters and how they interpreted her. 'She's The One' is the all-time most-played Harper cut in this house. My vinyl is worn a bit thin here, but it sounds great, and I just want to keep listening to it over and over. A paen of jealous appreciation to a friend unhappy with his marriage, it seethes with fantasy, passion and life, even with cryptic lyrics I've struggled with for a decade ('She's the one who buys the comics, drops the kids and knows the con', but maybe I'm trying to read in too much). It's major hook ('Ah how can any man talk like you / with a wonderful wife like yours?') is impossible to not sing along to, bursting with such exuberance. The momentum keeps this going and it doesn't even begin to wear out its welcome despite it's seven minute length - but if we want to talk about duration, well this is the album with 'McGoohan's Blues', the 17 minute epic loosely inspired by The Prisoner. As length Harper compositions go, this is one of the strongest, built mostly around a stark, tinny strum and his voice. This is borderline conspiracy theory soliloquising, with the Prisoner imagery slowly fading into a full-fledged psychedelic mess (rainbows, toadstools, silver water, etc.). Because of this, it's not that easy to grip onto, but clearly lashing out at social conventions, religion, conformity, and government - what else ya got? It's not as much as protest anthem as a Theory of Everything, and it helps that the song is pretty great too, with the nearly shrieked chorus anchoring the long slow journey til when the band finally kicks in. But the full band part of 'McGoohan's Blues' isn't some payoff, just a plateau, and not what I tend to remember. As a whole, Talmy holds Folkjokeopus together well, and there's very little throwaway beyond 'Exercising Some Control', about a dog (which does sound the most like the music-hall influenced Kinks of anything here). Eastern raga influences rears its head on 'In the Time of Water', though it's too brief to really notice; 'Ballad of Songwriter' casts the songwriter as the bringer of light, and may be the predecessor to the 'Dayman' song from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia; it's also where, on this listen, I started to hear a similarity to another eccentric English Roy from the same era, Mr. Wood, who shares the slight hint of the carnivalesque with Harper. 'Composer of Life' is another nearly forgotten cut, a twee, falsetto sketch that is actually fucking beautiful and one of the other underrated gems on this record. I gave this three full listens just now, which may seem a bit silly since I have 8 more Harper LPs to plow through, but I keep wanting to go back to 'She's The One'. Maybe because of the presence of 'McGoohan's', this would be my pick for the Roy Harper album to get, if you are only seeking one, since it feels pretty evenly dispersed over all of his different approaches. The one thing this lacks is some of the stunning fingerpicking from Sophsticated Beggar, but Stomcock lies ahead....

Frank Sumatra and the Mob - 'Te Deum' (Small Wonder)

I forgot I had this! One of the side effects of releasing a record with no spine (a 12" single, in fact) is that I rarely remember to listen to it, as it gets skipped upon all casual eye-browses of the shelf. This is a delight, a one-off 12" by 'Frank Sumatra' which is an alias of John Pearce, aka Alig Fodder from the great Family Fodder who we reviewed just earlier up the alphabetical ladder. 'The Story so Far' is the more European pop side of Fodder's work, an arpeggiated, falsetto-sung bit of demented romance. Fodder's affect is in full force and he has some pipes on him! Backing vocals form an unknown female vocalist imply that 'The Mob' is just Family Fodder in a different configuration. By the end it stumbles into a messy cave, and collapses on itself, though not without some lovely twinkling bells. Track 2 is a goofy send-up of Joe Meek's 'Telstar', sounding like it's being performed on a synthesizer over the telephone while choppy guitar and woodblock accompany it. Perhaps the torch of interesting production techniques burns on. On the flip we get the one true 'hit' from this record (though I doubt anyone ever actually heard it).  'Tedium' could be right off a Family Fodder record - a destroyed pop song with bouncy bassline and beautiful riff-hook, with some extramusical forays into squelchy guitars and synthesizer madness. It never falls apart, nor does it even threaten to - it's a slice of pop magic and the way things oughta be. Pure experimentalism is reserved for 'The Blues', which is all studio fuckery and suggestion, sounding like that TUOB 7" a decade+ prior, and you don't get to compare things to TUOB very often.