Monthly Archives: February 2016

“My first record was a copy of Blondie’s Parallel Lines, given to me by a high school boyfriend. The cover was water-damaged and the record was horribly scratched, but I thought it was the greatest gift imaginable.”

“My mom still had her record player in the basement, and though she was very confused as to why I wanted it set up in my room—I had a very snazzy silver and purple CD player at the time—she pulled it out of storage for me. She had some records too, and I listened to each one, quickly categorizing the ones I wanted to keep in my own collection …America – yes; Dire Straits – yes; Little River Band – No! Some of my favorite records came from my mom’s collection—each with my mom’s initials neatly written in pencil somewhere on the sleeve.

One of the my favorite keepsakes is a record that my mom used to teach her aerobics class in the ’80s. She went through the liner notes—already complete with illustrated diagrams of exercises—and wrote out ideas and instructions for a routine for every song. It’s adorable.”
—Courtney Ewan

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Emotional Response is run out of Flagstaff, AZ by the married team of Jen Turrell and Stewart Anderson. Over the last few years they’ve amassed a considerable amount of quality product, much of it on 7-inch vinyl and often with bonus tracks on the accompanying downloads, the vast majority landing betwixt the stylistic poles of punk and indie pop. The mailbox of this correspondent was recently brightened with a batch of Emotional Response platters featuring Ginnels, Cougar Vox, The Aislers Set, Primitive Calculators, Shark Toys, and more, and rather than focus on just one slab it felt appropriate to inspect and report on the entirety; the rundown is below.

Here it is six years into the second decade of the millennium and record labels are as necessary as ever in wading through the constant flow of new sounds and weeding out the prime movers from the also-rans. Of course, not all enterprises are equally successful at developing a distinct voice based upon enduring value and a resistance to faddishness, so it makes total sense to spotlight and salute those of commendable taste.

On occasion promising imprints can begin to register as increasingly finessed by committee, and in turn their discographies get burdened by varying levels of the humdrum. However, to this point the roster of Emotional Response happily connects as the byproduct of a pair of musician-fans. Although he’s participated in a long list of bands/projects, Stewart Anderson is probably best known for Boyracer, where he played beside his wife and label co-operator Jen Turrell.

It’s been a decidedly Brit-centric ride, unsurprising as Anderson originally hails from the UK, forming Boyracer in the Yorkshire town of Wetherby in 1990; together with that group’s “Pete Shelley EP,” the Sleaford Mods’ “A Little Ditty” b/w “I’m Shit at It” 7-inch goes a long way in establishing Emotional Response’s vibrations of punkish England.

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When it comes to LA punk, nobody played it with such urgency and fuck-you desperation as X. Everybody on the LA punk scene may have been a nihilist, but only X could open a vein and let you see how it felt to bleed, and show you how Hollywood was, in one famous guy’s immortal words, “a tour through a sewer in a glass-bottomed boat.”

Exene Cervenka’s great punk poetry and wild cat yowl, which meshed in a wonderfully off-kilter way with John Doe’s deep pipes, Billy Zoom’s hyperactive rockabilly guitar, and D.J. Bonebrake’s pounding rhythms all contributed to make X the first LA punk band to make a reputation for itself on both coasts. They were smarter, and seemingly more personal, than their LA compatriots. Black Flag dealt in satire, as did Fear, but X gave you the impression that they weren’t joking around, and were really on the down and outs: “We’re desperate,” they sang, “Get used to it.” Only Darby Crash, who burned himself down like a mad farmer might his own cornfield, could even come close.

They were pissed and not just at society; “The Phone’s Off the Hook, but You’re Not” is strictly personal, as is “The World’s a Mess, It’s in My Kiss.” And thanks to the production and contributions on organ of ex-Doors keyboardist Ray Manzarek, they even had a wider palate than their cohorts on the scene, at least on their debut 1980 LP, the great Los Angeles—a title that let everybody else know X was putting dibs on the city of motels, money, murder, and madness, to quote the Lizard King who once ruled the Hollywood scene.

Los Angeles is frequently an ugly album, coupling as it does unremittingly catchy melodies with lyrics that unflinchingly explore the dark underbelly of the City of Damned Angels. With the exception of their wonderfully speeded-up take on The Doors’ “Soul Kitchen,” on which Cervenka and Doe sing in demented synch, and “The Unheard Music,” a screed about the radio punk blacklist (“Some smooth chords on the car radio/No hard chords on the radio”), Los Angeles is a non-stop sleazefest.

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“As far back as middle school, I would wander around with the same 3 CDs changing places in my Discman—full disclosure, 2 of the 3 were Creed… I was 12. It’s not my fault.”

“Even throughout high school and college with the rise of the iPod, internet radio stations, and streaming, I still pretty much stuck to albums. While my friends had 1-2 songs from a band on their iPod, I had whole albums. My brother would make fun of me when we had parties, because it took me forever to make a playlist. I was too busy deciding which song I had to cut from my favorite record.

It’s always been like this. I love the flow of a great album. I love when the end of track 3 fades into track 4, or there’s an extra pause at the end of a track 6 to give you a chance to breathe. Those good songs become great because you’re hearing them in context. The fiery anthem of “Born To Run” means so much more after the despair of “Backstreets.” “Beat It” is so much more badass when it comes after “Thriller.” A great album transcends beyond the best single. It lifts all of the tracks up into a more enlightened experience.

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Those wishing to soak up vibrant Latin roots in a contemporary context have a prime opportunity right in their midst, for the second LP from Brooklyn’s Los Hacheros is complete and on the cusp of release. A five-piece band deeply informed by tradition yet infused with verve only possible by routinely ruling bandstands in the here and now, Los Hacheros transfer this knowledge and experience into the grooves of Bambulaye with uncommon success. It’s a record of astounding assurance and power out February 26 on the Chulo label as distributed by the discerning ears in charge at Daptone.

Bambulaye is simultaneously a trove of Latin musical history and a vessel of sweat-inducing grooves; beyond slapping the record onto a turntable, perhaps the easiest way to relate Los Hacheros’ duality of insight and energy is to report on gigs spanning from the Museum of Modern Art and the Lincoln Center to performances at quincañeras (birthday parties for Latin American girls turning fifteen years old) and Bronx strip clubs.

The assortment of venues says much about Los Hacheros’ sheer utility, while the breadth of their approach underscores their music’s importance without making any fuss over legitimacy; son montuno, guaracha, and salsa, all described in Bambulaye’s promo notes as “folkloric” styles, get combined with Bomba, a highly intense rhythm harkening back to the mountains of Puerto Rico.

Unsurprisingly there is mention of the great Cuban musician and bandleader Arsenio Rodriguez, Latin jazz behemoth Ray Barretto, and the long-serving record label Fania as Los Hacheros present a truly organic hybrid of classic and modern. No chasing after trends is in evidence, however; instead, the program is built to last and even more than its predecessor Pilon exudes musicality that’s respectful yet unhampered by orthodoxy and on occasion is borderline awe-inspiring.

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“Growing up we moved a lot but the one thing that was consistent was the music and art that was so deeply woven in the fabric of our household.”

“The very first records I remember having a large impact on my consciousness where mostly classic R&B, funk, and soul artists. Stuff like Aretha Franklin, Marvin Gaye, the Jacksons, Nina Simone, Percy Sledge, Earth Wind and Fire, Sly Stone, Chic, and many many more. And then there was the Malian desert blues which affected me so deeply.

As a toddler I remember being a huge fan of Little Richard and Bootsy Collins too and whenever I heard mainstream children’s music whether at school or at play date at a friend’s house I somehow couldn’t resist the urge to introduce these kids to my idols. Singing and dancing to tunes like “Tutti Frutti” or “I’d Rather Be with You.”

When I was about 6 I went to see Bootsy for the first time together with my mom and a few of her friends. That show absolutely changed my life and my innate love for Bootsy just grew even deeper. We were front row and with wide eyes I was sitting on the shoulders of one of my mother’s friends. Then came the moment when Bootsy picked me up off of those shoulders and invited me to join him onstage to dance with the entire band. (Supposedly one of my first full sentences I ever pronounced was “bust a move” and I’m sure these three words came in handy during this experience).

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Third Man Records’ Why the Mountains Are Black: Primeval Greek Village Music: 1907-1960 offers 28 cuts on either compact disc or superbly designed double vinyl with a triple gatefold sporting a typically fine R. Crumb cover illustration. And if that were all, the modern listener would easily be engulfed in the enigmatic, but thanks to the indefatigable research and perspective of Grammy-winner, writer, and all-around record man Christopher King, the contents come into focus with an air of mystery remaining; rarely does the oft-ineffable sonic creativity of a bygone world get elucidated with such keen, welcoming intellect. For folks cultivating adventurous pre-rock shelves this release is absolutely mandatory.

Though this set will surely appeal to similar clientele, it’s important to recognize Why the Mountains Are Black as distinct from the “old-time” canon of the USA; obviously Greek folk music, or demotika as it’s called, derives from unique cultural circumstances, and unlike those of Africa and other European regions, its traditions and methods haven’t tangibly impacted modern music.

And yet, to quote King’s notes: “Most scholars of antiquity can confidently assert that no ancient Western culture valued music more highly than the ancient Greeks. Practically every social event, no matter how small or large, was accompanied by live music, both vocal and instrumental.” Today music may give the impression of being widespread (perhaps too much so), but seldom does it produce catharsis, i.e. the Greek terminology for emotional release by an audience in direct response to a work of art.

Music may seem to be everywhere today, but it’s often experienced individually and with increasing frequency in easily digestible chunks serving more as a distraction than in a cathartic role. It’s a tendency extending to art in general; to elaborate, it’s become quite common to hear or read advance apologies when some shared item is in danger of being assessed as “long.”

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