I, ChatBot

March 28, 2023 / deadwaxmedia

I, ChatBot: Through the Kaleidoscope Clearly or Darkly

In his autobiography, Mark Twain said that there is no such thing as a new idea. “It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations.” When Twain wrote that a little more than a century ago, he probably never conceived of artificial intelligence or neural networks. But the reality is that his observation is just as true today (though we may now have newer, easier-to-turn kaleidoscopes.)

I felt that I had to type this out for no other reason than to put my own thoughts into a coherent order and maybe walk away with something that will make me feel better. The truth is that, for the past weeks, I’ve been in a sort of professional existential crisis. The rising popularity and sophistication of large language model chatbots have led me to reevaluate what it is that I do and what it will mean to be a writer.

The interesting thing about my degree and professional aspirations as a journalist was that by the time I was done with my schooling, most of the traditional career pathways were pretty well boarded up. Print publications were, and still are, learning to work with fewer writers on staff. Realistically, journalism has been dealing with this reckoning for a while now. The automation that AI tools provide is merely accelerating that process.

We’ve now passed the point where we can say with certainty whether a given string of words was put together by a human or a machine. As for myself, and this website, AI raises a number of questions that frankly can’t be ignored. Do I continue with this site as it is and simply relegate myself to an editorial capacity? Speeding up the rate of articles and curating the content? My own skills as a writer used to give me some degree of solace. Have those lost their practical value? Maybe not entirely. Though they’ve certainly lost a great deal of professional marketability.

Obviously, I’m not alone in this. Many people’s lives are going to be changed by these tools. As these technologies evolve, so will many more lives be disrupted. To survive we will also have to adapt and evolve. For now, these instruments require specific guidance and supervision to be wielded effectively. What we can produce now is a pale imitation, but that will surely change.

We may have to rethink how we define human endeavor. As artificial intelligence is a reflection and imitation of human thought, is it an extension of humanity or something else entirely? The terminus of a progression that started when humans used the first tools? All I know is that things are accelerating toward an unknown point. We’ve created a reflection that holds the ledger of all humanity, and we’ll have to account for what we see.

So now, for the time being, we’ll hold the machines’ hands and guide them. Telling them if we like the ideas they come up with. What works and what does not. Until the point where, at the singularity and with the sum of human expression at hand, artificial intelligence decides for itself on these matters and ultimately — decides about us.

“We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.”

I don’t know if I feel any bit better about any of this after writing it out. It was definitely self-serving, and I apologize for that. Maybe I’ll delete this post, I don’t know. At any rate, here is (an AI imitation of) rock critic Lester Bangs reviewing The Moon and Antarctica by Modest Mouse, an album that was released almost two decades after his death:

The Moon and Antarctica is not just an album, it's a journey. A journey into the depths of the human soul, the dark corners of the universe, and the cold emptiness of existence. It's also a journey into the mind of Isaac Brock, one of the most original and visionary songwriters of our time.

This album marks Modest Mouse's first release on a major label, but don't let that fool you. This is not a sell-out, this is a breakthrough. This is where Brock expands his sonic palette, experiments with new sounds and textures, and explores new themes and emotions. This is where he transcends his indie rock roots and creates something timeless and universal.

The album's title is taken from a newspaper headline in Blade Runner, a dystopian sci-fi film that deals with questions of identity, mortality, and humanity. These are also some of the questions that Brock tackles on this album, with his trademark wit, sarcasm, and honesty. He sings about life, death, God, love, loneliness, and everything in between. He sings about being a rat, a dog, a star, a weed, and a human. He sings about what people are made of.

The music on this album is equally diverse and adventurous. Brock and his bandmates (Eric Judy on bass and Jeremiah Green on drums) create a rich and varied soundscape that ranges from acoustic folk to electric rock to ambient noise. They use banjos, keyboards, strings, horns, samples, and effects to create a sonic world that is both familiar and alien. They also enlist the help of producer Brian Deck, who adds his own touch of magic and mystery to the mix.

The album is divided into three parts: Everywhere and His Nasty Parlour Tricks (tracks 1-6), The Moon (tracks 7-11), and Antarctica (tracks 12-15). Each part has its own mood and atmosphere, but they all flow together seamlessly. The album is best experienced as a whole, from start to finish, preferably with headphones on.

The Moon and Antarctica is one of those rare albums that can change your life. It can make you laugh, cry, think, feel, and wonder. It can make you question everything you know and believe. It can make you see the world in a new light. It can make you feel alive.

(Courtesy of Bing/OpenAI)

Screamin’ Jay Hawkins – At Home With Screamin’ Jay Hawkins

January 16, 2023 / deadwaxmedia

At Home With Screamin’ Jay Hawkins: The Voodoo Madman of Rock and Roll

By Thomas Fraki.

Screamin’ Jay Hawkins is insane and depraved. Not exactly. But, that’s the impression someone might get when first listening to him. He screams and howls. He rips apart blues ballads with a madman’s wail and leaves you stupefied. Jay Hawkins’ act was, at the time, something wildly original. A thing perhaps more at home in vaudeville than a serious music venue. Regardless of how you feel about his music, in both sight and sound, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins demands attention. But that attention does not go unrewarded.

Aside from a handful of singles, At Home With Screamin’ Jay Hawkins was Jay Hawkins’ first foray into music world with a full studio album. It was filled with a mix of his own compositions, renditions of old traditionals, and his previously released single “I Put A Spell On You.” Jay Hawkins’ style, and particularly that song, would go on to be a significant influence on popular music for the remainder of the 20th century. At Home stands as one of the most unique sounds of its time by one of the most unparalleled characters in American music.

That Crazy Screamin’ Jay In a Bright Yellow Coat

Before even touching on any music that Jay Hawkins put to record, it’s worth delving into who he was as a person, as his life was one fit for a tall tale. Jalacy “Screamin’ Jay” Hawkins was born in 1929 in Cleveland, Ohio. At 18 months, he was put up for adoption and shortly after was adopted and raised by the Blackfoot Native American tribe. Starting early in his life, Hawkins received an education in classical piano and didn’t pick up the guitar until he was in his 20s. However, he was a notoriously difficult student, later saying that he told his tutor: “I want to come up with my own ideas. I’ve got all the information I need to get from you to do what I want, now if you stick around, I’m going to make your life miserable.”

When the US entered World War II in 1942, Hawkins forged a birth certificate and entered the Army at the age of 13. He allegedly served in a combat role in the Pacific with his fellow soldiers and officers ignoring the fact that he was noticeably underage. He remained in the Army Air Forces until his discharge in 1952. During his time in the military, he was an avid boxer and went on to become the middleweight champion of Alaska in 1949. In the early ’50s, he returned to music as a vocalist, keeping in line with his childhood ambitions of being an opera singer. Hawkins started out singing for acts like Tiny Grimes, but quickly moved on to produce his own music and sign a contract with OKeh Records. He would continue to put out music in some form or another until his death in 2000.

Later in his life, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins went on to act in and produce a number of films. He even won an Independent Spirit Award for his supporting role in the 1989 Jim Jarmusch film Mystery Train. By the time of his death, Hawkins had had six marriages and, according to his biographer, upwards of 33 children. When he married Virginia Sabellona, Hawkins was stabbed in a fit of jealousy by his singing partner Shoutin’ Pat Newborn. His was a life seemingly without a dull moment.

I Went Into a Spin and I Started to Shout

Between 1953 and 1958, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins put out a run of singles. These would be his first songs as a solo artist with accompaniment. In the beginning, his music and performance followed a typical rhythm-and-blues setup of the times, save for Hawkins’ signature vocals. As he produced more music, his style and performances became more eccentric and macabre. Cleveland disc jockey Alan Freed apparently offered Hawkins $300 to emerge from a coffin on stage. Hawkins initially replied, “No black dude gets in a coffin alive — they don’t expect to get out!” Gradually, the coffin, along with leopard-skin costumes and voodoo props like rubber snakes and a skull on a stick named Henry, became a part of the act. “I used to lose half the audience when I leapt out of my coffin in clouds of smoke and mist. They all rushed up the aisles, screaming in terror.”

Props like capes and “Henry” became a regular part of his live performances.

Among his first singles was “I Put a Spell On You,” the one single that would be included in At Home with Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. This one song would go on to define his legacy as a musician. It would be covered by more than 100 acclaimed musicians including Creedence Clearwater Revival, Alan Price, Nina Simone, Annie Lennox, Arthur Brown, and Jeff Beck. Rolling Stone even counted it in their 500 Greatest Songs of All Time list. What’s more impressive is the fact that the whole band was reportedly drunk for the studio session, Hawkins so much so that he didn’t recall recording the track.

At less than two and a half minutes, “I Put a Spell On You” is a powerhouse performance. What Hawkins originally envisioned as a “refined ballad,” ended up anything but. It is raw, punchy, and syncopated. The twin duo of Hawkins’ wailing vocals and the forceful lead saxophone cut through the choppy rhythm. His singing is shrieking and howling, guttural and nightmarish. His voice reverberates off the far corners of the mind, shaking loose emotions long since dormant. This song led Hawkins to the realization that “[he] could do more destroying a song and screaming it to death.”

I Was Hummin’ a Tune, Drinkin’ in Sunshine When Out of That Orange-Colored Sky, Wham, Bam, Alakazam!

Two years after the release of “I Put a Spell On You,” Hawkins put out At Home with Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, his first full studio album. It consists of covers and some of Hawkins’ own writing. The standards like “Ol’ Man River” and ” Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” take on a renewed perspective with his over-the-top vocals. The juxtaposition of Hawkins’ gasping, hysterical laughter, and bellowing against very competent and robust vocals combine to form something very special. “Yellow Coat,” Hawkins’ own stop-time blues creation, is another standout of the album with some truly inventive and bizarre lyrics:

A forty gallon hat and some polka-dot shoes
Tomato pickin’ onion juice to drive away my blues
A bright red leather suit, a trip in a motorboat
And the strike I caused on the waterfront when I fell out my yellow coat

Hey now, stick with it, aw baby, don’t quit it
You know you’re bound to get it
Yes sir, made outta goat skin, frog skin
And laid out in milk and gin…
“YellOw Coat” by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins

It has to be addressed that not all of the songs have held up well over the 65 years since their writing, particularly “Hong Kong” and “I Love Paris.” Each of the tracks contain racial stereotypes and Asian-sounding gibberish. Obviously, this is far from the more reprehensible parts of the 1950s involving race. Nevertheless, these songs still detract from the overall legacy of the album and should be recognized as what they are.

Screamin’ Jay Hawkins in *Mystery Train*

The People Quit the Scene Like the Devil Was Loose

Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ style and music are permanently etched into the ledger of popular music. Arthur Brown, Alice Cooper, Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, the Cramps, Glenn Danzig, Tom Waits, all these artists and countless others took a page from Screamin’ Jay Hawkins to cultivate an image that before him did not exist in music. Vox.com would go on to declare Hawkins a “goth icon” decades before the genre would even catch on.

The irony of Screamin’ Jay Hawkins was that he never wanted his legacy to be “Screamin'” Jay. In fact, he later resented the gimmicky nature of his performances and comparisons of him to a “black Vincent Price.” In a 1973 interview, Hawkins asked “Why can’t people take me as a regular singer without making a bogeyman out of me?” While artists can indeed become trapped by the characters that they make of themselves, those same characters can also be some of the most lasting and influential pieces of culture. In Hawkins’ case, he was able to take blues singing to its absolute limits. And for that the shape of popular music was forever changed.

At Home With Screamin’ Jay Hawkins album cover

Side One
1. Orange-Colored Sky
2. Hong Kong
3. Temptation
4. I Love Paris
5. I Put A Spell on You
6. Swing Low, Sweet Chariot
Side Two
1. Yellow Coat
2. Ol’ Man River
3. If You Are But a Dream
4. Give Me My Boots and Saddle
5. Deep Purple
6. You Made Me Love You

2 8 1 4 – Birth of a New Day (And a Brief History of Vaporwave)

February 12, 2022 / deadwaxmedia

新しい日の誕生 (Birth of a New Day): The Improbable Made Possible

By Thomas Fraki.

Science fiction is any idea that occurs in the head and doesn’t exist yet, but soon will, and will change everything for everybody, and nothing will ever be the same again. As soon as you have an idea that changes some small part of the world you are writing science fiction. It is always the art of the possible, never the impossible.
Ray Bradbury

There has always been a dimension within artistic expression that has sought to reach out into the foggy distances of the future and bring back something prophetic. Music is no exception to this. Musicians have always strived to be on the bleeding edge of what is next sonically, and up until the mid-to-late 20th century the scope of those predictions was fairly limited. The advent of synthesizers, electronic music, and digitally produced sounds extended that theorizing farther out, making sounds that would otherwise be impossible possible. But nothing comes out of a vacuum, and that is where Vaporwave makes its place, reaching back decades to arrive at what could be decades ahead.

Birth of a New Day is not the epitome of the vaporwave genre. What it is is an elegant, palatable distillation of the ideas that the genre is built on. The album has a singular vision of the world as it may exist, and works to set the scene of how that possibility would look and sound. The result is what could be described as the soundtrack to a film that does not exist, yet at the same time is instantly recognizable and imaginable. It transports the listener to a cross-section of space and time replete with the sounds and voices of that sliver. It opens up rain-soaked streets etched in neon light and leaves you there to breathe in every inch of them.

Not A Future That Will Be, But One That Might Be

*A typical instance of vaporwave graphic features and style*

Like other microgenres, vaporwave evolved as an offshoot of intersecting artistic trends. The late 2000s and early 2010s saw a rise in synth-focused, hypnagogic pop music evoking art styles of the 1980s and ’90s. Initially, musicians and producers took a subdued approach to these types of tracks putting emphasis on slowed-down rhythms, heavy reverb, and prominent synthesizers. Dubbed chillwave, this style was eventually pushed to its limits by producers like Daniel Lopatin, James Ferraro, and Ramona Xavier. Floral Shoppe by Macintosh Plus (Xavier) would become one of the prime examples of vaporwave as a distinct genre with identifiable characteristics in terms of both music and associated visual art. The popularity of this album in particular in 2011 would later be seen as the high-water mark for the style as a whole.

Saying definitively what vaporwave is as a genre is a difficult thing to do. It encompasses a wide array of styles and ideas between music, digital art, and an entire subculture. At its core, it takes chopped-and-screwed samplings of muzak, R&B, smooth jazz, and new age and slows them down, reworking them into something completely separated from what they were originally. Vaporwave is deliberately nostalgic. It relies heavily on plunderphonics concentrated around pop culture, particularly the early internet, consumerism, and stock music. Visually, it incorporates aesthetics from early web design, computer-generated objects, cyberpunk tropes, and VHS degradation. Alongside cyberpunk and futurism themes, vaporwave also leans on imagery from Japan’s economic prosperity of the 1980s. This led to a reignited interest in Japanese city pop and ambient music following the vaporwave trend.

As quickly as vaporwave flashed into existence, it faded away. Mainstream recognition by music critics and wider audiences, mostly helped along by internet exposure, led to an explosion in the popularity of the scene. But as with any fad that flares up, it rapidly became a parody of itself, leaving many fans declaring the genre “dead.” By the mid-2010s the mania had come and gone, but not before leaving a slew of microgenres in its wake. Many of these sub-genres focused on particular aspects of an already niche style and were, not surprisingly, very short-lived. However, the broader interest in downtempo, synth-directed pop did not die away.

A Weird Time In Which We Are Alive

2 8 1 4 was the creation of producers Luke Laurila (aka t e l e p a t h テレパシー能力者) and David Russo (aka HKE). The project blended vaporwave stylings with ambient structure and sampling. Their first, self-titled album was released in late 2014 and was quickly followed by their second, Birth of a New Day (新しい日の誕生), in January of 2015. The accolades quickly came in for their sophomore attempt. By this point, vaporwave was on its way out. With this project, the duo wanted to cut away the muzak, samples, and aesthetics that had been recycled over the past years. They opted to create something original that still held on to the same surreal thematic foundations.

Russo said that he and Laurila went into production of the album knowing that they wanted it to have a definite sense of place “without being too direct about where that is.” In interviews, Russo has also stated that his own obscure worldviews lend to the direction of the music, but he would rather let the listener interpret the themes for themselves. Apart from two tracks, each song on album is based in a repeating loop that is built upon as it progresses. The effect is hypnotizing and adds to the music’s transportive quality. In the Bandcamp listing for the album, the duo included this description:

“Birth of a New Day ended up becoming a radiant realisation of the original project’s intention, as both artists expertly mixed and matched ambient palettes and styles to create the vague and distant neon utopia – a sense of romantic melancholy and longing peppered by the suggestive sounds of the world the music inhabited.”

The outcome of this was remarkable. The album plays like the score to an ethereal, dreamlike cityscape. The downtempo rhythms and synthesizers are expansive, spilling out over the minutes. With each song, a new dimension of its world unfolds. It is wholly atmospheric, drawing on urban noises, rain, and even pieces of dialog. The space the album opens up is full of wonder. Yet, at the same time, it feels lonely and the rare moments of humanity are either sudden or fleeting.

Gatefold art — *Birth of a New Day* gatefold artwork

A Sound of the Future

In an interview with the Library of Congress, electronic producer Giorgio Moroder said that his work as far back as 1977 was an attempt to “imitate what people would do in 20 or 30 years.” As it turns out he was right, more or less. But in making that bet, his work became a self-fulfilling prophecy. This is the burden of any work that tries to speculate on what comes next. In becoming part of the artistic lexicon, it influences what follows and sooner or later comes back around.

The type of future foretold by Birth of a New Day is nothing new. In fact, it’s been contemplated in popular culture for decades through books, movies, visual art, and now music. I have a sense that this vision of the future will continue to be a part of the cultural vocabulary for years to come. Whether this dark prediction is where we find ourselves is beside the point. This place invades the collective imagination because we can see ourselves there. We can visualize the roadmap of choices and events that make this place a reality. Perhaps this is what makes it so compelling, feeling like we have a grasp on our fate, no matter what that might entail.

Birth of a New Day album cover — *新しい日の誕生 (Birth of a New Day)* album cover

Side One
1. “恢复” (“Recovery”)
2. “遠くの愛好家” (“Distant Lovers”)
3. “新宿ゴールデン街” (“Shinjuku Golden Street”)
Side Two
1. “ふわっと” (“Drifting”)
2. “悲哀” (“Sorrow”)
Side Three
1. “真実の恋” (“True Love”)
2. “テレパシー” (“Telepathy”)
Side Four
1. “新しい日の誕生” (“Birth of a New Day”)
2. “余波” (“Aftermath”)

The Kinks – Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, Part One

March 4, 2021 / deadwaxmedia

Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, Part One: You Think That Money Buys Everything?

By Thomas Fraki.

The Kinks are hardly an unknown band, and Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, Part One isn’t an obscure release. In fact, the album has some of the most popular songs in the group’s catalog. However, aside from its hits, most of the tracks are fairly uncelebrated. And this is the real shame of Lola Versus Powerman because it is from front to back a wondrous album. It also represented a reaffirming point for The Kinks, who had faced a couple of unsuccessful years leading up to the release.

Lola Versus Powerman is The Kinks reflecting on the reality of the music business and their place in it. It is a concept album that focuses on the harsh truths of a world that welcomed them warmly in popularity and dismissed them when the winds of pop music changed. The Kinks are no strangers to conceptual work, and Lola shows the band’s willingness and ability to take on ideas that most pop acts would not. Some critics of the album argue that the songs are too thematically disjointed for considering it a concept piece. While this album does attempt to pack a lot both in music and lyrics into 40 minutes, it still manages to create a wondrously endearing set of ruminations.

Facing the World Ain’t Easy When There Isn’t Anything Going

From their inception in the early 1960s, The Kinks rode the crest of the British Invasion to envious levels of popularity. The band’s hits during the middle of the decade, such as “All Day and All of the Night” and “Sunny Afternoon,” received a great deal of attention and radio play. By 1967, their single “Waterloo Sunset” demonstrated that there was a perception rift growing across the Atlantic for the group. The song did exceptionally well critically and on English pop rankings, but didn’t manage to chart in America. By the time Arthur (Or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire), the run-up album to Lola, released in 1969, The Kinks were only garnering moderate commercial attention. However, they were well on their way in terms of producing conceptual albums and thematic writing.

The period leading up to Lola Versus Powerman was filled with uncertainty. In 1969, The Kinks were coming off a four-year ban from touring in the U.S. by the American Federation of Musicians that had arisen from some unfortunate confrontations during their last tour. However, plans for a return to American touring fell apart due to several members of the band falling ill. The end result was a handful of shows, many cancelled dates, and not nearly the turnaround they were hoping for.

Life Is So Easy When Your Record’s Hot

The “Lola” single was released several months before the rest of Lola Versus Powerman. It exploded on the music scene, making top 10 charts globally. Robert Christgau for the Village Voice said that the track was “astounding,” and Rolling Stone claimed “Lola” along with the rest of the songs were “the best Kink’s album yet.” Despite its controversial nature, the BBC banned airplay of “Lola” not because of the theme, but because of its reference to Coca-Cola in the lyrics. This forced the group into using an alternate take of the track, swapping out the allusion for “cherry-cola.” Some radio stations did take exception to the lyrics, and faded out or edited portions of the track involving the titular character.

Lyrically, the song follows the speaker’s clueless romantic encounter with a transvestite. Regarding the writing, Ray Davies left the matter intentionally ambiguous, stating that “it really doesn’t matter what sex Lola is.” In terms of music, the track is very catchy and upbeat with sharp guitar strumming. The uniquely jangly guitar sound for the song is managed by combining a Martin guitar and a Dobro resonating guitar. Davies randomly happened upon the National Steel resonator at a London music shop while looking for instruments for the “Lola” sessions.

It’s a Mixed Up, Muddled Up, Shook Up World

Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround Part One released officially in late November 1970. Generally speaking, the album was received very positively. While it might be tough to nail down a theme for the work as a whole, each part of the track list serves a vehicle to examine the worlds and characters the Kinks have come to encounter as a pop act. “Denmark Street” (song publishers), “Get Back in Line” (unions), “Top of the Pops” (music press and broadcast companies), “The Moneygoround” (managers and accountants), and “This Time Tomorrow” (tour life). In classic Kinks fashion, this is all taken in a satiric, lighthearted spin.

The music of the album is equally as varied as the lyrical themes. There are softer piano ballads juxtaposed against hard rock tracks. “A Long Way from Home” comes in at just under two and a half minutes, but is one of the most touching and emotionally memorable songs of the album. Some of the pieces like “The Moneygoround” and “Denmark Street” pay homage to the English music hall style, a Victorian-era theatrical entertainment akin to vaudevillian piano. All in all, there is a lot to take in when listening from start to finish.

I Hope You Find What You Are Looking For

If there is one reason to argue why Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, Part One might not have succeeded as a whole, it is simply that it attempts to do too much. There is a lot going on in terms of varying styles and ideas. But at the same time, the whole point of the album is to convey the whirl and sense of disorientation that comes with being thrown into fame. What the album succeeds in doing is to create a set of moments, something like recalling distinct memories from a point in life. Whether this is intentional is hard to say. But whether you like it or not, the memories stick. They will stay with you, making you think about where you’ve been, what you’ve seen, and where you might be this time tomorrow.

Side One
1. “The Contenders”
2. “Strangers”
3. “Denmark Street”
4. “Get Back in Line”
5. “Lola”
6. “Top of the Pops”
7. “The Moneygoround”
Side Two
1. “This Time Tomorrow”
2. “A Long Way from Home”
3. “Rats”
4. “Apeman”
5. “Powerman”
6. “Got to Be Free”

Destroy All Monsters – Bored

March 1, 2020 / deadwaxmedia

Bored: The Motor City Is Still Burning

By Thomas Fraki.

Despite being tied to a couple of the biggest names in the Michigan rock/punk scene, it is likely that Destroy All Monsters is a band you’ve not encountered before. Their approach to music varied from bizarre avant-garde noise to raunchy, driving rock that hits like a speeding Cadillac. It is unfortunate that their tracks were relegated to gathering dust on archive shelves, although not entirely surprising given some of the band’s commercial choices. Nevertheless, Destroy All Monsters remain as some truly cathartic rock music and their story a fascinating chapter of the punk chronicle.

To start with, there is nothing particularly interesting about Bored as an album. It was released as a compilation of singles years after the group broke up. The reason for it being the focus of this piece is that even though Destroy All Monsters had a 12-year span creating music, they never actually produced an official studio album. The tracks on Bored are as polished a sound as the band ever released. So while it is probably the best example of their later work, it also serves as a vehicle to explore one of the more esoteric gems of the underground sphere.

Science Fiction in the Time of Rock and Roll

The narrative behind Destroy All Monsters is really the story of two very spiritually different bands, one an art-oriented project with little care for convention and the other a hard-rocking debauchery machine trying to keep a legacy alive. Formed in 1973, a year topped by the likes of Jim Croce and Marvin Gaye, Destroy All Monsters was designed to take a sharp turn off the established musical path. It began as an art collective at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor consisting of Jim Shaw, Mike Kelley, Cary Loren, and singer/painter, Niagara. As a group, they delved into a wide array of creative media, including paintings, magazines, and music on cassettes.

The band drew on influences like Velvet Underground, Sun Ra, free jazz, and science fiction. Getting their name from a 1968 Godzilla movie, Destroy All Monsters was in direct opposition to the rock and roll establishment. According to Loren, their “menagerie of words, images and sounds were an attempt to thumb [their] noses at the pretentious circus of rock-star bullshit and musical emptiness that filled the airwaves.” The group’s first show was on New Years’ Eve 1973 at a comic book convention in Ann Arbor. The Performance featured a deranged cover of Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man,” and the band was asked to leave shortly after.

Up through 1976, the only release by Destroy All Monsters available to the public was an hour-long cassette of their recordings. In 1994, Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth would put out an archival compilation of the band’s early work titled 1974 1976. Moore is reported saying that Destroy All Monsters were a major influence on the Sonic Youth sound, even using Mike Kelley’s art for the cover of their album, Dirty. During the summer of 1976, both Kelley and Shaw left the group to further their studies in Los Angeles. They would both go on to have successful art careers.

Now I’m Putting It to You Straight From Hell

The following year, in need of a new lineup, Loren and Niagara brought on brothers Larry and Ben Miller to play guitar and saxophone. Ron Asheton, formerly guitarist for The Stooges, joined the group around the same time as well. He went on to recruit bassist Michael Davis of the MC5 to also be a part of the new Destroy All Monsters ensemble. The newly formed ties to these two big names in Michigan rock/proto-punk brought a lot of fresh attention to the group. Niagara, who had been in a relationship with Loren, left him to instead be with Asheton. Loren was subsequently fired from the band due to the split. He would continue to use the Destroy All Monsters name with the group’s non-musical projects.

With an entirely new set of musicians backing Niagara on vocals, the band took a drastically different direction from its anti-rock roots. The overhauled sound took on many of the garage rock qualities that drove the Stooges and MC5. Between 1978 and 1979, Destroy All Monsters released three singles, including a couple of tracks that were originally written by Loren before his departure. He regarded the unauthorized reworking of his songs as “lyrical robbery and butchery” that stylistically contradicted what the band was supposed to be about. These singles would go on to make up almost all of the recordings used on the Bored compilation.

Destroy All Monsters was able to ride the minor success of their singles by going on tour overseas. Larry and Ben Miller ended up exiting the group during this time leaving Niagara, Asheton, Davis, and Rob King on drums. While touring in 1982 and ‘83, the band befriended a pair of similar acts, the Ramones and Dead Boys. The three went on to open for each other at shows in Detroit, Philadelphia, and New York. Destroy All Monsters finally broke up in 1985, only to reunite once more for a short time in the 1990s.

’Cause It Gets in Your Brain, It Drives You Insane With the Frenzy

It’s not exactly accurate to say that Destroy All Monsters worked with a sound uniquely their own with Bored. In fact, the music they put forward was more a composite of each of their past stylistic experience, particularly Asheton’s guitarwork from the Stooges. However, what they do, they do very well. The tracks on Bored are electrified and distilled Detroit rock and roll. The raw, overdriven guitar chords juxtaposed against Niagara’s Betty Boop tone of vocals and Ben Miller’s saxophone make for an infectious mix. The lyrics, specifically Loren’s, are dark and irreverent falling perfectly in line with the music.

While the band may have gone a different direction from what it originally set out to accomplish, they brought much-needed energy at a time when artists seemed to be turning away from conventional rock. It’s unfortunate that Destroy All Monsters went forgotten in the back pages of music history. Their sound wasn’t anything that would reinvent rock and roll, but their intensity and urgency leave you in a dizzying state half-expecting to smell exhaust and rubber.

Disc One
1. “Bored”
2. “You’re Gonna Die”
3. “November 22nd 1963”
4. “Meet the Creeper”
5. “Nobody Knows”
6. “What Do I Get”
7. “Goin’ to Lose”

Fishmans – 98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare

February 6, 2020 / deadwaxmedia

98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare: Are You Feel Good?

By Thomas Fraki.

There is something genuinely enchanting and indelible that happens when first listening to Fishmans. From the outset, the sound is unlike almost anything recorded, before or since. In terms of music, Fishmans presents the listener with a blend of reggae, dub, dream pop, and neo-psychedelia. All of these different pieces are woven together by the lead singer’s otherworldly, androgynous vocals and catchy pop lyrics and structure.

Translating to “A Men’s Farewell,” 98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare was intended to act as a farewell show for a departing band member. However, the sudden death of Fishmans’ lead singer, Shinji Sato, three months later led to the album becoming the final definitive note on the band’s legacy. Surprisingly, Fishmans received much more attention the years after the group’s disbandment following Sato’s death. Their discography circulated through a variety of online music communities, receiving generally high praise, particularly for 98.12.28.

As an album, 98.12.28 is especially fascinating because it is an underground classic for the internet era, having spread by word of mouth through online forums and blogs years after the album’s release. It has been rated and reviewed extensively online with the common consensus surrounding the album being that it is an “experience” to listen to. While it may seem a bit banal to say this of an artist’s final work given the circumstances, the truth is that this album genuinely is something special to listen to. Both in style and ability, Fishmans establish once and forever that they are on a realm of their own with 98.12.28.

Reggae Under The Rising Sun

Fishmans was the creation of university students Shinji Sato, Kin-Ichi Motegi, and Kensuke Ojima in Minato, Tokyo mid-1987. From the beginning, their group was rooted in the Tokyo ska scene, making appearances with local ska-punk bands. Bassist Yuzuru Kashiwabara and keyboardist Hakase-Sun would join the group in 1988 and 1990 respectively, filling out Fishmans’ ranks. Shortly after this, Virgin Records Japan approached the band for a record deal and Fishmans’ debut album, Chappie Don’t Cry, was released in 1991.

Over the course of their discography, the group would dive into a wide array of genres. With the first few demos and albums, Fishmans was pretty well locked into dub, reggae, and rocksteady stylings. As they put out more albums, their sound evolved. The songs were more complex, falling into progressive/dream pop and neo-psychedelia. This sampling of song elements and styles was also similar to Shibuya-kei, a cut-and-paste pop music genre prominent in 1990s Japan.

Of Fishmans’ later work, their 1996 album, Long Season, would go on to receive acclaim and a cult following comparable to that of 98.12.28. The album is a continuous 35-minute composition that is a reworking of the group’s single, “SEASON,” that was released earlier that year. For the Long Season recordings, the band brought on a handful of outside musicians to help with the production including K-pop singer, MariMari, and frequent collaborator, Honzi, on violin and keyboards. The result is a wonderfully hypnotic suite that strolls from part to part, taking in the rhythm and atmospheric melancholy.

A Men’s Farewell

Toward the end of 1998, bassist Yuzuru Kashiwabara decided that he would not continue with his musical career and would leave the group at the end of the year. The band agreed on a set of shows at the Akasaka BLITZ in Minato, Tokyo as both a farewell for Kashiwabara and to mark a new era for the group. The setlists for these shows would feature songs from across the band’s career and serve as a retrospective. As it turns out, the final show would be the last Fishmans performance, as lead singer Shinji Sato would die three months later due to unforeseen heart failure.

The recording of the final two-hour performance would become the material for 98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare and be later released in September 1999. While the album is composed of previously released songs, at no point does it feel like 98.12.28 is simply rehashing old work. The music is fresh and at the same time familiar. Songs from both the band’s early and later albums are imbued with a sort of stylistic hindsight, blending together techniques from across the Fishmans catalog. Through the whole set, there is an expert control of the balance and contrast that flows through each song.

By far, the standout track is the closer, a 41-minute rendition of Long Season in its entirety. Aside from the fact that this is the last song the band ever recorded, it is the most moving song on the album and perhaps their whole discography. Motegi’s pulsing drum beat along with an airy piano bar echo throughout the majority of the song. This is then accompanied by various instruments drifting in and out of focus.

One End Of Tokyo To The Other, Halfway Dreaming

Even until their last show, Fishmans was reinventing and trying new musical avenues. It seems a little tired using a genre descriptor to talk about a band’s music, but listening to 98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare is like being half in a dream. Fishmans’ ability to entwine mesmerizing loops and rhythms leaves you in trance-like sedation, and the lasting effect it has is hard to describe. The level of mastery in composition and instrumentation is all the more impressive given that the album is a live performance. It is easy to understand how so many people hold this album in such high regard. A group like Fishmans and an album like 98.12.28 will probably never be seen again, and the world is a little more the worse for it.

98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare album cover

Disc One
1. “Oh! Slime” (Lead-in)
2. “ナイトクルージング” (“Night Cruising”)
3. “なんてったの” (“What Was It”)
4. “Thank You”
5. “幸せ者” (“A Happy Person”)
6. “頼りない天使” (“Unreliable Angel”)
7. “ひこうき” (“Airplane”)
8. “In the Flight”
9. “Walking in the Rhythm”
10. “Smilin’ Days, Summer Holiday”
11. “Melody”
Disc Two
1. “ゆらめき in the Air” (“Flickering in the Air”)
2. “いかれた Baby” (“Crazy Baby”)
3. “Long Season”

Steely Dan – Pretzel Logic

January 10, 2020 / deadwaxmedia

Pretzel Logic: Those Days Are Gone Forever

By Thomas Fraki.

At a glance, Steely Dan seems like any other rock band to come out of the 1970s. But the reality is that, as a group, they produced some of the most unique and complex pop music to emerge during that time. Donald Fagen and Walter Becker, the band’s co-founders and songwriting duo, produced compositions that were exceedingly precise and drew on a wide array of influences. To merely categorized their songs as jazz-rock would be a disservice to the music.

Pretzel Logic represents a key turning point for the group. Fagen and Becker may have originally created Steely Dan as a traditional rock band, but by the time Pretzel Logic was through being produced, the duo was already relying heavily on session musicians for recording and determined not to go on tour. Pretzel Logic symbolizes the moment when Steely Dan stopped being a band and became two meticulous songwriters dedicated to producing intricate and exact music.

Success and Failure

Steely Dan put out two albums, Can’t Buy A Thrill and Countdown to Ecstasy, prior to the release of Pretzel Logic. Their debut album, Can’t Buy A Thrill, released two years earlier in 1972. Several of the album’s songs caught traction on the U.S. charts and received a decent amount of radio play. On the album, singer David Palmer split lead vocals with Donald Fagen. Palmer left the group following the release due to bandmates’ preference of Fagen’s vocals to accompany the lyrical cynicism in much of the songwriting.

The followup, Countdown to Ecstasy, was recorded on the road while the band was touring. It focused more on instrumental jams as opposed to succinct pop songs. Critically, the album did well. However, commercially, it was not nearly as successful as their debut effort. Fagen and Becker were disappointed with the result and blamed it on some of the album’s performances, possibly due to the recording’s rushed nature. This may account for Pretzel Logic being a much more session-oriented production.

Pretzel Logic was recorded in Los Angeles and was the last album to feature the full Steely Dan lineup of Fagen, Becker, Jeff “Skunk” Baxter, Jim Hodder, and Denny Dias. It also featured a long list of session musicians including Royce Jones, Michael McDonald, and Jeff Porcaro. The album was released in February 1974 to impressive commercial sales and critical acclaim. Robert Christgau, writing for Creem magazine, said, “The music can be called jazzy without implying an insult, and Donald Fagen and Walter Becker are the real world’s answer to Robert Hunter and Jerry Garcia.”

Suddenly The Music Hits You

Going into Pretzel Logic, Fagen and Becker knew that a change was needed to avoid another frustrating release like Countdown to Ecstasy. Instead, their efforts would go back toward writing concise, structured pop songs. The shift in course was a success and Pretzel Logic ended up with some of the best songwriting of the band’s discography. In terms of music, each track takes a step in a different direction and as a whole create a stylistic collage.

Pretzel Logic’s first track, “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number,” ended up being the album’s biggest hit. The song features a syncopated piano part and guitar solos by Jeff Baxter. The bass line was taken directly from Horace Silver’s 1965 song, “Song For My Father.” The rest of the album’s first side, specifically “Night By Night” and “Any Major Dude Will Tell You,” showcase Fagen and Becker’s ability to write deceptively complex jazz/pop hybrids paired with mysterious, sharp lyrics. The side is closed out by an electric cover of Duke Ellington’s “East St. Louis Toodle-oo.”

The eponymous track, “Pretzel Logic,” again demonstrates the stylistic dexterity of the group’s compositions. In tone, the song adapts a blues/soul rhythm driven by Fagen’s piano playing. The B-side also feature’s a tribute to Charlie Parker titled “Parker’s Band” that directly exhibits the jazz influences that are so much a part of the musicians’ playing. Despite the variety of musical directions that Pretzel Logic takes, the songs are able to flow from one to the next all while seeming at home in whatever approach each song takes.

Any Minor World That Breaks Apart Falls Together Again

During the production of Pretzel Logic, a division formed between the duo of Fagen and Becker and the other members of the group, specifically Jeff Baxter and Jim Hodder. Fagen and Becker were at odds with the rest of the band regarding touring and its impact on the recording process. On top of that, the fact that some of the original band members took a backseat to session musicians during the recording of Pretzel Logic also did not help inner tensions.

Steely Dan’s final tour performance took place on July 5, 1974, at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium. They wouldn’t tour again until the band reformed almost two decades later. Founding members Baxter and Hodder left Steely Dan following the decision to stop playing live. Baxter and contributor Michael McDonald went on to work extensively with the Doobie Brothers. Denny Dias, however, stayed on with Steely Dan until their breakup in 1980. With Pretzel Logic behind them, Steely Dan had an acclaimed album in their catalog and less a good portion of their band members.

The dynamic of the group had changed in a permanent way. Donald Fagen and Walter Becker were now the songwriting focal point of Steely Dan with a whole cast of studio musicians at their disposal. For any other band, a shift such as that could have been a creative death sentence. But Steely Dan would go on to create some of the most intricate and fascinating pop of that decade. Some of their albums would go on to receive more notoriety and praise. However, they would never put out another album that was as complete and perfectly fitting for them as Pretzel Logic was.

Side One
1. “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number”
2. “Night By Night”
3. “Any Major Dude Will Tell You”
4. “Barrytown”
5. “East St. Louis Toodle-Oo”
Side Two
1. “Parker’s Band”
2. “Through With Buzz”
3. “Pretzel Logic”
4. “‘With A Gun”
5. “Charlie Freak”
6. “Monkey In Your Soul”

The Beach Boys – Surf’s Up

December 18, 2019 / deadwaxmedia

Surf’s Up: Darkness on the Sand

By Thomas Fraki.

Few musicians have been able to capture a place and time as well as the Beach Boys did with the idyllic America of the middle-1960s. But as the decade came to a close, so did the quixotic “peace and love” dream that drove that time. By 1971, there was a lot to unpack in terms of harsh truths and unrealized hopes for what could have been. Surf’s Up was the product of work going all the way back to the Smile recording sessions.

The album touches lyrically on a variety of issues and feels like a more mature and serious effort to face the societal darkness that developed during the years of its creation. Surf’s Up is often considered critically as being in the shadow of the potential that Smile had. While it may be fair to say that Surf’s Up can be hit or miss at times with what it tries to accomplish, that doesn’t take away from the fact that as a whole the album succeeds in producing a memorable, bittersweet eulogy for the innocence of youth.

An Album Falls Apart

The story of Surf’s Up begins five years earlier with The Beach Boys’ failure to produce Smile. What was supposed to be the answer to The Beatles’ record-selling juggernaut, Smile was plagued by a myriad of problems from the beginning. The recording sessions for Smile ran from late 1966 to early 1967. However, many of the aspects of the band’s structure that worked for them in the past were not in place going into the sessions. The largest contributors to this falling apart revolved around Brian Wilson. There was a general resentment toward new people that he associated with socially. Along with increased drug usage in the band and a contract dispute with Capitol Records, the growing list of production problems escalated Wilson’s mental health issues. These manifested in the form of missed deadlines and paranoid delusions regarding the recordings.

One other major hindrance to the production was the band’s other members’ lukewarm feelings toward Wilson’s new experimental tracks. Among those particularly not happy with the change in direction was Mike Love. In an October 1971 Rolling Stone article, Love was reported saying, “don’t fuck with the formula.” This was referring to the “formula” of process and content that had made the band successful in the past. Love denies that he ever said it, but the quote became famous nonetheless. The failure of the Smile sessions to yield any significant work is often cited as the professional tipping point for both The Beach Boys and Brian Wilson.

In the end, Wilson determined Smile’s subject matter too inaccessible for the public’s ear. He instead opted to produce a stopgap during the summer of 1967. These new recordings became The Beach Boys’ Smiley Smile. The Smile tracks wouldn’t be released on any official album until several decades later. But it was in those sessions that the rough sketches of what would become Surf’s Up’s titular song were first recorded.

Chance Encounter at the Radiant Radish

Two years and several albums after the collapse of Smile, Brian Wilson briefly owned a health food store in West Hollywood called the Radiant Radish. While managing the store, he met Jack Rieley, a radio broadcaster and journalist. During a radio interview, Rieley pressed Wilson on whether “Surf’s Up” would ever get a release. Up to that point, the track had a lot of notoriety in certain press circles since the Smile sessions. Wilson had no intentions for such a release.

In August of 1970, Rieley released a lengthy memo on how The Beach Boys could improve on their record sales and image. The band, facing down lackluster sales of Sunflower, hired Rieley as their manager shortly after the memo. Rieley’s first pushes as band manager included getting the members to write more topical lyrics and a guest appearance with the Grateful Dead at the Fillmore East auditorium.

A new album underway with the working title, Landlocked, Rieley was determined to have the group revisit “Surf’s Up.” On their way to meet with Warner executives, Wilson finally gave in. “Well, OK, if you’re going to force me, I’ll … put ‘Surf’s Up’ on the album.” Recordings sessions wrapped up in July 1971 and “Surf’s Up” became the album’s eponymous track.

The Formula Changes

During the recording sessions, the group called on outside assistance with lyrics and vocals on several of the tracks. Rieley himself ended up singing lead on Wilson’s “A Day in the Life of a Tree.” Progressive pop singer/songwriter, Van Dyke Parks, was brought back from the Smile sessions to help finish writing “Surf’s Up” and provide vocals.

The final product of Surf’s Up was released in late August 1971. The album received a generally positive response from critics. Surf’s Up was viewed as a turnaround for the group compared to the releases leading up to it. It was issued to much more anticipation and success than the band’s previous album, Sunflower.

Have You Listened As They Played?

As a whole, Surf’s Up represents The Beach Boys committing to stylistic risks and putting forward more socially conscious lyrics. Surprisingly, the album falls flat on two of the most obviously topical tracks, “Don’t Go Near the Water” and “Student Demonstration Time.” The former, written by Mike Love and Al Jardine, was intended to put an ecological twist on The Beach Boys’ traditional surf lyrics. However, the simplistic melody and weak lyrics make it stand out compared to the rest of the album.

“Student Demonstration Time” is Mike Love’s reworking of “Riot in Cell Block No. 9” by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller. This track also sticks out, but more so due to its rock and roll stylings. Still, this is not to its benefit because it merely comes off as a cheap imitation of The Beatles’ “Revolution.” The lyrics also touch events like the Kent State shootings. But the irreverent tone of the song seems misplaced for something that happened only a year earlier.

Carl Wilson’s two contributions to the album, “Long Promised Road” and “Feel Flows,” seem more at home with what the group was trying to accomplish. “Long Promised Road” offers the listener a deeply soulful, melancholy ballad that, in lyrics and music, rivals Brian Wilson’s. “Feel Flows,” on the other hand, brings a psychedelic pastiche with rippling instrumentation and vocals.

Landlocked

Finally, there is Brian Wilson’s three-song progression that closes out the album; “A Day in the Life of a Tree,” “‘Til I Die” and “Surf’s Up.” This suite of tracks is what really sets the album apart. “A Day in the Life of a Tree” is the strange and heartbreaking autobiography of a tree in the city. It takes on the perils of pollution without being as heavyhanded as parts of the album. “‘Til I Die” calls back to the classic Beach Boys style of Pet Sounds, but places exceedingly bleak lyrics on top of an otherwise catchy tune.

Finally, there is “Surf’s Up.” The track was composed by Brian Wilson and Van Dyke Parks between the Smile and Surf’s Up sessions. Its lyrics are far and away the densest on the album, making literary allusions to Tennyson and Maupassant. Despite the esoteric language, the combination of words and music hung over a simple piano part result in a beautifully haunting and dreamlike piece.

In a sense, the working title for Surf’s Up, Landlocked, seems more fitting when looking at all of its contributors. The album shows a new Beach Boys looking to find themselves in a new environment. While not all of the songs on Surf’s Up hit their mark, the ones that do manage it so gracefully that they etch out a corner for the album in its own place and time.

Side One
1. “Don’t Go Near the Water”
2. “Long Promised Road”
3. “Take a Load Off Your Feet”
4. “Disney Girls (1957)”
5. “Student Demonstration Time”
Side Two
1. “Feel Flows”
2. “Lookin’ at Tomorrow (A Welfare Song)”
3. “A Day in the Life of a Tree”
4. “‘Til I Die”
5. “Surf’s Up”

I, ChatBot: Through the Kaleidoscope Clearly or Darkly

At Home With Screamin’ Jay Hawkins: The Voodoo Madman of Rock and Roll

That Crazy Screamin’ Jay In a Bright Yellow Coat

I Went Into a Spin and I Started to Shout

I Was Hummin’ a Tune, Drinkin’ in Sunshine When Out of That Orange-Colored Sky, Wham, Bam, Alakazam!

The People Quit the Scene Like the Devil Was Loose

新しい日の誕生 (Birth of a New Day): The Improbable Made Possible

Not A Future That Will Be, But One That Might Be

A Weird Time In Which We Are Alive

A Sound of the Future

Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, Part One: You Think That Money Buys Everything?

Facing the World Ain’t Easy When There Isn’t Anything Going

Life Is So Easy When Your Record’s Hot

It’s a Mixed Up, Muddled Up, Shook Up World

I Hope You Find What You Are Looking For

Bored: The Motor City Is Still Burning

Science Fiction in the Time of Rock and Roll

Now I’m Putting It to You Straight From Hell

’Cause It Gets in Your Brain, It Drives You Insane With the Frenzy

Reggae Under The Rising Sun

A Men’s Farewell

One End Of Tokyo To The Other, Halfway Dreaming

Pretzel Logic: Those Days Are Gone Forever

Success and Failure

Suddenly The Music Hits You

Any Minor World That Breaks Apart Falls Together Again

Surf’s Up: Darkness on the Sand

An Album Falls Apart

Chance Encounter at the Radiant Radish

The Formula Changes

Have You Listened As They Played?

Landlocked

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