Celebrating Colin Newman, born on this day in 1954. —Ed.
While the punk genre has its share of great albums, and the same can surely be said for the refinements, expansions, and disruptions in post-punk’s playground, the list of those having excelled at both is short indeed. If any outfit makes the cut, it’s Wire. Having delivered the UK class of ’77 a cornerstone LP, their next two full-lengths helped to define the sound of post-punk; they remain amongst the finest records the styles ever produced. Out now through the band’s label Pinkflag are special edition CD books of all three, 80 pages each and sized like 45s, featuring text by Jon Savage and Graham Duff plus additional tracks. Here’s our look at 1978’s Chairs Missing.
The enduring stream of adulation awarded to Wire’s debut Pink Flag can mask the fact that the esteem wasn’t instantaneous. As the printed observations in these CD books helps to clarify, the band was strikingly distinctive as part of the whole ’77 punk shebang, as they garnered a pocket of fervent advocates, including then Sounds writers Jon Savage and Jane Suck, but overall, Wire existed as just one outfit amongst many, and this lack of a microscope of expectation surely allowed for creativity to flourish without the hinderance of unnecessary pressures.
If somewhat ambivalent to the punk tag at the time and in retrospect, it’s pretty apparent now that Wire benefited from their emergence in connection to the sheer tumult of the time. Just as importantly, they weren’t anointed the saviors of its essence, the crucial destabilizers of convention, or the inevitable deliverers of what comes next.
Simply put, making rock music is hard. Making rock music that will produce an immediate audience reaction (and critical response) is harder. And making rock music under outsized expectations has been the end, literal and figurative, of many a band, resulting either in breakups or a nosedive in quality. At the very least, the avalanche of attention will irrevocably change the music.
NEW RELEASE PICS: Satoko Fujii, Piano Music (Libra) This CD is a life-affirming gift from one of modern music’s greatest pianists. It offers two long tracks, the first, “Shiroku,” lasting 19 minutes, the second, “Fuwarito,” reaching 27, that wouldn’t exist except for the Covid-19 pandemic. They capture Fujii alone, and not in the long-established solo mode, but instead creating sound collages built from recordings of prepared piano, Fujii stitching them together seamlessly using a computer at home during quarantine. Sound collage is a new discipline for Fujii, but prepared piano is not (interestingly, one of her methods is placing a guitar Ebow on the strings), so that this excursion into unfamiliar territory is grounded in expertise. I mention this in part because the drones in “Shiroku” are truly first rate and additionally striking, as the sustained resonances were assembled from pieces lasting only one or two minutes. In his enjoyable liner notes for the disc, Shiro Matsuo mentions that not all of Fujii’s fans will be pleased with Piano Music’s contents, but I sure am. The disc is an astounding accomplishment. A
Norman W. Long, BLACK BROWN GRAY GREEN (Hausu Mountain) Long is a Chicago-based guy who’s toured as part of Angel Bat Dawid and tha Brothahood and collaborated with Damon Locks and members of Tortoise (amongst others), but he’s mostly known as a sound artist with an emphasis on field recordings (often manipulated field recordings, which are the best kind). This release (available on CD and cassette) opens with the nearly 23-minute “SOUTHEAST – LIVE 2019,” a recording of a performance held at the Experimental Sound Studio on May 17 of the year in the piece’s title. Listened to loud on headphones, the work is immersive and holds stretches that border on the overwhelming. If altered to varying degrees by Long’s hand, much of the progression documents recognizable sources (crickets chirping and birdsong, for two examples), but there’s still plenty of mystery in the unwinding. It’s followed by four worthwhile pieces recorded in Long’s home studio that utilize sounds captured near his residence in Chicago’s south side. Overall, a brilliant and admirable release. A-
Sonny Vincent, Snake Pit Therapy (Svart) For a long time, Sonny Vincent was mostly noted for singing and playing guitar in the first-wave NYC punk band Testors. But as documented by Diamond Distance & Liquid Fury- Sonny Vincent: Primitive 1969-76, which came out last year via HoZac, Vincent was haunting recording studios much earlier than that (in the protopunk outfits Distance, Fury, and Liquid Diamonds). Even better, he’s remains active and continues to pack a wallop with this set of 15 songs, its title shared with Vincent’s recent book of recollections, poetry and fiction. That he’s still dishing out worthy stuff isn’t exactly a surprise, as his 2014 album Spiteful (featuring Rat Scabies, Glen Matlock, and Steve Mackay) was quite the solid undertaking. Vincent reliably radiates a Noo Yawk street-rockin’ swagger, but importantly, he doesn’t go overboard with the attitude, instead focusing his energies on writing songs of high quality. Snake Pit Therapy is no dress-up retro show, rocking hard and catchy enough to please fans of mid-period Hüsker Dü (Vincent has played with Greg Norton). Thoroughly vital. A-
REISSUE/ARCHIVAL PICK: Sheila Jordan, Comes Love: Lost Session 1960 (Capri) The 11 tracks on this CD predate Jordan’s classic Portrait of Sheila album on Blue Note by two years, although her recording debut was singing four songs on an obscure LP credited to bassist Peter Ind in 1960. It’s unclear which occurred first, the Ind session or this date, as the specifics of Comes Love are a little hazy; we don’t even know who the accompanying musicians are. They might be John Knapp on piano, Ziggy Wellman on drums, and either Steve Swallow (who played on Portrait of Sheila) or Gene Perlman on bass (as they were Jordan’s band during her engagements at the Greenwich Village club the Page 3 around this time), but there’s really no way to be sure. What is abundantly clear is that Comes Love documents Jordan in strong voice, with nary a subpar or even a tentative selection in the bunch. As I’ve always found jazz singing to be something of a tough sell (yes there are plenty of exceptions), this is no small feat. Is it as strong as Portrait of Sheila? No, but it does find her hovering in the proximity of greatness. A-
One gauge of the true greats is that the music manages to get better, or at least maintains a high standard of quality, as the discs take their place in the racks. So it is with the Small Faces. With this said the Decca period offers distinct and enduring appeal; more so than The Who, the Small Faces circa-’65-’66 are the true ambassadors of Mod. Utterly Brit in orientation, it wasn’t until the fourth LP that the group entered the US market.
NEW RELEASE PICKS: New York United, Volume Two (577) This set follows-up a lovely self-titled LP from 2019, on which an exquisite fusion of jazz and electronics was unveiled as conjured by the quartet of Daniel Carter (saxophones, flute, trumpet, clarinet), Tobias Wilner (synthesizers, percussion, vocals, piano, guitar), Djibril Toure (bass), and Federico Ughi (drums). As on the first record, the basis is group improvisation, although it’s more frequently groove-rooted than purely abstract (Toure is noted for playing bass with Wu-Tang Clan), which is further enhanced in post-production by Wilner, his input honing a sound that’s likely to appeal to lovers of ambient electronics and strains of beat-driven techno (and when Carter blows trumpet, even Hassell’s Fourth World music, but just a little bit). But fans of avant-jazz will find much to enjoy as well. When the first album came out, the group moniker/ album title connected like a reflection upon the bond of togetherness. Given all that’s happened since, it now registers like a statement on survival. Available on vinyl (limited grey and black) and digipak CD. A-
Jessica Ackerley and Daniel Carter, Friendship: Lucid Shared Dreams and Time Travel (577) This digipak CD serves as my introduction to guitarist Ackerley. She plays acoustic with remarkable skill and communicative prowess in duo with Carter, who brings his reliable stash of horns (sax, flute, trumpet, clarinet) to the recording; throughout its eight dialogues, he improvises at a typically high level. While these interactions were documented at Scholes Street Studio in Brooklyn, the musical relationship (indeed, the friendship) of Ackerley and Carter was solidified by playing outdoors in a park last summer. Even with this knowledge, the familiarity and the comfort level are at times astonishing here. I’ll add that the atmosphere that’s established by the pair is casual and quite approachable rather than full-tilt bananas, which is worth mentioning given Carter’s rep for wild skronk (though it’s not the only arrow in his quiver) and Ackerley’s background in experimental noise (likewise, amongst other pursuits), as she also plays electric. I’m eager to hear more of her work. Daniel Carter continues to amaze. A
REISSUE/ARCHIVAL PICKS: O.V. Wright, A Nickel and a Nail and Ace of Spades (Real Gone) Originally released in 1971 or ’72 (sources differ), the cover of this album is definitely a conversation piece. Looking at it, you might think the label’s center of operations was a storage shed, but no, Back Beat was a subsidiary of Duke Records, an important enterprise in the history of gospel (through Don Robey’s Peacock imprint), R&B (on Duke proper), and soul via Back Beat, featuring such notables as Carl Carlton (“Everlasting Love”), Roy Head (“Treat Her Right”), and the prolific Wright, who had five albums released on Back Beat, of which this was number four. Cut at Royal Recording Studios in Memphis with production by Willie Mitchell and featuring the Hi Records rhythm section and the Memphis Horns, the music is uncut Southern soul, a sound that contrasted with the increasingly polished direction taken by so many early ’70s soul singers and production houses. The band here is unimpeachable. Wright’s gospel drenched vocalizing never falters. Al Green fans shouldn’t sleep on this one. A
Rick Deitrick, Coyote Canyon (Tompkins Square) This is the fourth reissue/ archival album from guitarist Deitrick, who is (thus far) the most prolific of the players to have been introduced to the wider public via Tompkins Square’s Imaginational Anthem Volume 8: The Private Press, an album now nearly five years old. Folks who know the first few volumes of that instrumental guitar series might be thinking that Deitrick’s an American Primitive guy, but that’s not the case. However, I don’t want to cultivate the impression that he’s undertaking some radical departure. Really, the main difference is that Deitrick plays in standard tuning. This is a significant distinction to be sure, but much of his work (here and elsewhere) strives for beauty regions that’re comparable to assorted nooks of the American Primitive impulse. Coyote Canyon features seven tracks recorded between 1972-’75, with a nearly ten-minute piece from 1999, “Three Sisters,” serving as the tidy record’s finale. The span of years isn’t really discernible, and Deitrick’s playing exudes calm without becoming overly tranquil. A-
With Sam and James and Wilson and Al and Marvin all making such singular contributions to the style, there will never be an undisputed King of Soul. But upon reflection, Otis Redding can perhaps be accurately described as the form’s Total Package, for the fabric of his music contains so many substantial fibers; a Southern “country” grit combining with the newfound sophistication of R&B, the powerhouse qualities of a consummate front-man coexisting with a distinctive desire to interact with his backing band, and the ability to knock ‘em stone cold dead on stage thriving alongside an uncommon level of success in the studio setting.
NEW RELEASE PICKS: Steven Bernstein’s Millennial Territory Orchestra, Tinctures In Times (Community Music, Vol. 1) (The Royal Potato Family) This is the first of four albums, all issued on vinyl, that will complete trumpeter-composer-arranger Bernstein’s Community Music series, with Vol. 4, Popular Culture, scheduled for release on September 2 of next year (Vol. 2, Good Time Music, paring the orchestra with vocalist Catherine Russell, comes out in January, while Vol. 3, Manifesto of Henry-isms, where Bernstein’s Hot 9 is joined by keyboardists John Medeski and Arturo O’Farrill, releases on May 1). Each volume has its own theme, with this set marking the first time Bernstein’s Orchestra has played his own compositions (having previously focused on his arrangements of other people’s material). While tagged as an orchestra, the credited players on Tinctures in Time total up to a nonet that’s steeped in tradition but with boldness of execution and edge that should satisfy avant-garde heads, who likely already know Bernstein, anyway. He’s played with everybody, and his tunes cut strong mustard. A
Buck Gooter, Head in a Bird Cage (Ramp Local) I’ve mentioned in a prior review that a live show, specifically a hometown opening slot warming up a touring act, served as my proper introduction to this Harrisonburg, VA-based u-ground industrial duo. After that show, I became a certified fan of Terry Turtle and Billy Brett, and the esteem hasn’t wavered through numerous releases, though this one marks a sad occasion, as Terry died on November 20, 2019. Hospitalized in August of that year with unbearable shoulder pain brought on by a broken neck that was caused by a malignant tumor that had eaten away his vertebrae, Terry was visited often by Billy, who recorded him while there. At the same time, he was working on Head in a Bird Cage, partly due to Terry’s insistence on knowing how the record was progressing. Only one song, “Sun Is Beaming,” was written after Terry’s hospitalization, but he’s sampled in some way on all of the 14 tracks, with his presence felt throughout. Fans of ONO and Wolf Eyes should take note. Rest easy, Terry Turtle. You’ll definitely be missed. A-
REISSUE/ARCHIVAL PICKS: Marianne Faithfull, The Montreux Years (BMG) This live in Montreux series kicked off earlier this year with sets devoted to Nina Simone and Etta James, their contents assembled from numerous performances spanning decades to provide a thorough overview. This spotlight on the consistently undervalued Faithfull is a welcome shift of gears. While the timeframe is tighter here, spanning 1995-2009, the contents still feel comprehensive, as the selections are drawn from five different shows, staring out with a version of Van’s “Madame George” that’s followed by a guitar heavy extended version of “Broken English” that’s an absolute treat. Not everything here thrills me. I enjoyed Faithfull’s spoken intro to “Song For Nico” more than the song itself, for instance, but right after “Broken English” is the wonderful “Times Square, and then we’re back to Broken English the album with “Guilt.” Other highlights include “Sister Morphine” and versions of Duke Ellington’s “Solitude” (a nod to Billie Holliday and Leonard Cohen’s “Tower of Song.” Faithfull’s engagement puts this set over the top. A-
Muddy Waters, The Montreux Years (BMG) I’ve no way to know for sure, but I suspect I’ve listened to Muddy Waters more than any other blues artist. With that said, I’ll confess to dipping into the man’s post-1960s material only on occasion, with this installment in the Montreux Years series the deepest dive I’ve taken into his ’70s stuff in quite a while. The songs derive from four performances dating from ’72-’77, and possibly because he was playing for more refined and knowledgeable audiences (at least hypothetically), the approach isn’t as aggressively raw as it is on the studio album Hard Again, which is just fine by me, as the tunes here extend pretty naturally from the sound of Muddy’s stronger ’60s albums, rather than trying to impress the rock crowd; at least that’s the impression I’m always left with whenever I return to the Johnny Winter-produced Blue Sky albums (of which Hard Again was the first). Naturally, a bunch of his most well-known songs are here, but often with distinctive execution. “Mannish Boy” is a prime example. But a handful of deep cuts nicely weaved into the program. A-
Had Alice Coltrane somehow not recorded Universal Consciousness she’d still stand as one of the defining talents from jazz’s most exploratory era. And even if the woman born Alice McLeod on August 27th, 1937 in that hub of American artistry Detroit, Michigan had never managed to cut an album under her married name, her creative achievements would endure as quite notable.
NEW RELEASE PICKS: James McMurtry, The Horses and the Hounds (New West) There isn’t a lot of elbow room in the scene McMurtry inhabits, specifically the country-folk-Americana-roots rock singer-songwriter zone, but frankly very few do it better, with his stature in a crowded field only amplified by a six-year break between releases. How’s he do it? Well, he and his band play bright but rugged, and more importantly, his tunes are consistently strong. That McMurtry, the son of prolific (and recently passed) novelist Larry McMurtry, doesn’t do autobiography (as quoted in a recent Rolling Stone article), certainly helps, though even more crucially, his songs avoid the staleness of creative-writing class cliché. And it makes a big difference that he’s open to taking chances, with none bigger than “Ft. Walton Wake-Up Call,” a sort of talking storyteller ditty where McMurtry flirts with sounding like C.W. McCall but ends up pulling it off, mainly through astute observations; likewise, “Operation Never Mind.” At this stage, I dig the anthemic up-tempo rocker “What’s the Matter” best, but the record doesn’t falter. A-
Thalia Zedek Band, Perfect Vision (Thrill Jockey) Entering her fifth decade making music (having debuted on wax as part of Dangerous Birds in the early ’80s), guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter Zedek’s latest exhibits no signs of creative fatigue. To the contrary, Perfect Vision underscores her adaptability, as it was recorded remotely due to (you guessed it) the pandemic. Operating in this manner allowed for a wide array of guest contributors. There’s Karan Zarkisian on pedal steel, Brian Carpenter on trumpet, and cellist (and Zedek’s labelmate) Alison Chesley aka Helen Money. And of course, there are familiar elements, including her regular collaborator, violist David Michael Curry, plus her bandmate in the outfit E, drummer Gavin McCarthy, but most recognizable is the tough and assured expressiveness of the singing and the distinctive way the songs unwind. Fully capable of writing catchy tunes, Zedek’s focus encompasses the layering of textures, the juxtaposition of timbres and the tension that builds through methodical repetition. In short, it’s another sweet record from Thalia Zedek. A-
REISSUE/ARCHIVAL PICKS: Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Destiny Street (Complete), Destiny Street Remixed, & Destiny Street Demos (Omnivore) The first of these titles is a 2CD set that includes the contents of the second and third, both vinyl sets. In addition, the 2CD opens with a remastered version of the original Destiny Street, the second album by Hell and the Voidoids, a record that’s mix Hell has hated since the album’s release in 1981. It’s followed on the first CD by Destiny Street Repaired, which featured guitarists Bill Frisell, Marc Ribot, and Voidoid Ivan Julian overdubbing guitar in place of original Destiny Street guitarists Robert Quine (who passed in 2004) and Naux (Juan Marciel) (whose death occurred in 2009), with Hell singing the tracks anew. Destiny Street Repaired was made possible by the then recent discovery of the tape holding the original album’s rhythm tracks, while in 2019, three of the four Destiny Street masters, long thought lost, were discovered, allowing Hell (with the aid of Nick Zinner of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs) to finally remix the record to his satisfaction.
