Nash The Slash Has Passed Away

Saddened to learn that Jeff Plewman, better known to the music world as Nash The Slash, passed away at the age of 66.  Truly one of the most original musicians - and one of the more bizarre characters - in the entire underground scene.

In his honor, I am reposting the New Wave For The New Week entry I wrote about Nash The Slash back in December of 2011.

R.I.P. Nash.

(originally posted 12/5/11:)

Canadian-born Jeff Plewman has been making fascinating music since 1975, although you have likely never heard of him.  An incredibly talented individual, Jeff seems capable of playing any instrument you hand him. He is best known, however, for his work with electric violin and mandolin, often processed further through assorted synthesizers and, as he refers to them, "devices."  He has toured with Gary Numan and Iggy Pop, among others, and he is still going strong in 2011, having just released a fine retrospective compilation of his career's work. But if you go to your favorite record store (or, as I guess we must say in 21st century, "music source") and ask for Jeff Plewman's latest release, you'll get little more than funny looks. Jeff doesn't record or perform under his given name.  Jeff records and performs with his head and face wrapped mummy-like in bandages, wearing tuxedo and top hat, and goes only by the name Nash The Slash.

It wasn't always thus.  Nash started out as a normal, unbandaged musician as part of a Canadian mid-70's progressive band called FM (think long hair and long, long songs).  After FM released their first album, Nash struck out on his own, beginning with 1978's Bedside Companion. At the time this four-song instrumental EP was released, as the cover art reveals, the top hat and jacket were already in place, but the bandages didn't appear until the following year.  During a 1979 tour, with the crisis at Three Mile Island having just occured, Nash wanted to make a statement about the dangers of a nuclear meltdown. He appeared onstage one night wrapped in bandages dipped in phosphorescent paint as a warning that "this may happen to you!" The bandages quickly became a trademark, and he has not appeared in public unwrapped ever since.

1979 also saw Nash's first full-length LP, Dreams And Nightmares. Following the debut EP stylistically but beginning to add vocals to the mix, Nash slashed out a sound not far removed from German electronic noodlers like Kraftwerk or Tangerine Dream. In 1997 both the EP and this first LP were combined onto one CD as Blind Windows.  Setting his sights on the pop music world next, Nash released a cover of Jan & Dean's "Dead Man's Curve" in 1980 to positive acclaim.  The follow-up album, Children Of The Night, included that single as well as a few other covers ("19th Nervous Breakdown," "Smoke On The Water") as well as the usual experimental instrumental pieces.  Covering well-known songs made Nash more accessible, but also threatened to paint him into a corner as a gimmick act - and the hidden-identity/bizarre cover songs gimmick was already taken by The Residents (with whom Nash was briefly associated).

Nash answered his critics with his most wonderful album, 1982's And You Thought You Were Normal, which split the difference with one side of fairly standard New Wave pop and one side of instrumental noodling, and no cover versions to be found in either basket.  Nash scored a club hit with the album's single, "Dance After Curfew;" other notable cuts include "Pretty Folks," "Vincent's Crows," and the utterly majestic "Citizen" ("I've got nothing to hide/I just can't decide/Am I just a citizen?").  Then, in the ultimate thumb-your-nose-at-your-detractors move, he followed that two years later with an album full of nothing but cover songs! American Bandages found Nash slashing up the theme from American Bandstand, "Born To Be Wild," "Psychotic Reaction," and "Hey Joe" among others, while also taking another stab at "Dead Man's Curve."  The song from which the titular pun was taken, Grand Funk Railroad's "(We're An) American Band," gets a slight rewrite given that Nash always performs completely solo; hence he sings, "I'm an American Band."  Brilliant.

Having made his point, Nash pulled a most unexpected move and returned to his old bandmates, rejoining FM, although he retained the now-standard Nash The Slash uniform.  While spending the next few years playing with FM, Nash also dabbled in film scores and other production work.  But it wasn't until 1991 that we got the next solo Nash The Slash album, his soundtrack to Highway 61. 1999's Thrash demonstrated handily that Nash had not missed a step in his instrumental work; 2008's In-A-Gadda-Da-Nash equally proved he still knew his way around a goofy cover version or two.  In between those two albums, Nash issued a stunning score he created for the silent horror classic Nosferatu. Is there anything this guy can't do?

Despite all his work and critical acclaim - both from the music press and his fellow musicians - Nash The Slash remains relatively obscure. This year's The Reckless Use Of Electricity, a handy compendium of Nash's finer moments, is a welcome introduction for those new to this fascinating musician's oddly mesmerizing world of sound.  Get it.

For this week's NW4NW, here is some early-80s vintage Nash The Slash. First, the clip for his breakthrough cover of "Dead Man's Curve," then his club hit, "Dance After Curfew."  Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #165

The classic era of New Wave, circa 1978 - 1981, left behind several eccentric curios - bizarre one-shot bands that rode the wave briefly and wiped out hard, never to be heard from again, or eclectic experimenters who thrived on trying something beyond the traditional radio-friendly three and half minute pop song.  One band fit both descriptions during the New Wave heyday, and then managed to extend their lifespan longer than anyone thought probable by completely redefining themselves, at least finding dance club success if not chart fame and radio airplay.

When they began in 1978, the band Fàshiön (originally fully named Fàshiön Music on their first few singles) sounded like no one who had come before them - or after, for that matter.  They created a trippy, out-of-phase, almost dreamlike drone from shards of Reggae, Psychedelia, and Punk.  With frontman Luke Sky's bizarre vocal swoops tugging the melodies along, their early records at times sounded akin to Brian Eno-era Roxy Music played at the wrong speed on warped vinyl, but they remain fascinating artifacts of the era. "Steady Eddie Steady" and "Citinite" are the best examples of these early oddities, which caught the ear of Miles Copeland who quickly snapped them up for his fledgling I.R.S. Records label.

It was for I.R.S. that Fàshiön recorded their debut EP, containing my pick as their finest vinyl moment, the raucous "Sodium Pentathol Negative," which was also chosen as the band's representative cut on the essential I.R.S.'s Greatest Hits Vols. II & III compilation.  That it wasn't included on their first proper LP, 1979's Product Perfect, only goes to show how much solid material the band was pumping out. Indeed, only "Citinite" made the cut from the first several singles.  It's a truly wonderful album, highlighted by the sprawling, somewhat unsettling "Bike Boys."  Well worth seeking out.

Shortly thereafter, Sky left the band, and Fàshiön might very well have disappeared into the mists of time. Remaining band members John Mulligan (bass and synths), Dik Davis (drums), and Al James (guitar) had other ideas, however.  They brought in a new vocalist, and in 1982 suddenly bobbed back up to the surface with a new album, Fabrique (reissued many years later on CD as The Height of Fashion).  Old fans had little to celebrate, sadly, as this record bears little to no resemblance to anything done under the Fàshiön name before.  This was slick, polished New Romantic/pseudo-soul pop music, an obvious attempt to latch onto the "sound of the moment." While they scored some club hits ("You Only Left Your Picture," "Streetplayer"), they didn't find the commercial success they had hoped for.  A further reshuffling and another change in vocalists occurred, and they tried one more time. 1984's Twilight Of Idols took unapologetic aim at the dance floors, and while it is certainly danceable, it's unfortunately also generic and forgettable. 

For this week's NW4NW entry, we go back to Fàshiön's early material and remember good band they were at the start, even if they turned out to be a chameleonic curio by the end. Two audio-only clips are presented: first up, their excellent debut, "Steady Eddie Steady," and then the fantastic "Sodium Pentathol Negative." Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #163

Most sensible people agree the Washington DC scene was an incredible one, packed with talented musicians playing outstanding music in any of several excellent bands, with styles spread across the spectrum of musical genres.  Of course, as in any scene, a few names loom considerably larger in importance and legacy in DC's history: The Teen Idles, Minor Threat, Bad Brains, and Razz to name a few.  But they were all beaten to the punch by DC's original DIY combo, The Slickee Boys.

Starting out in 1976 and briefly fronted by a female singer, The Slickee Boys crossed straightforward bar-band rock with the emerging sounds of the New Wave, creating an edgy psychedelic-blues-garage sound with more than a little bit of attitude.  In their first year, they released the completely independently produced Hot And Cool EP, one of the earliest American DIY releases of the era.  An independently produced and distributed debut album, Separated Vegetables, appeared a year later, mixing covers of forgotten '60s garage nuggets and current DC scene favorites with an original or two, the album was pressed up in an issue of 100 copies.  Good luck finding an original!

Original singer Martha Hull was soon replaced by Mark Noone, and the best-known lineup of Slickee Boys was in place: Kim Kane and Marshall Keith on guitar, Noone on vocals, and Dan Palenski on drums.  Two more EPs were recorded (Mersey, Mersey Me and Third), which were then combined with the original Hot And Cool and released as Here To Stay in 1982.

All of this set the stage for their must-have masterpiece, Cybernetic Dreams of Pi.  Released in 1983, the album scorches from the incredible opening cut, "Escalator 66," on through a series of fresh originals ("When I Go To The Beach," "Nagasaki Neuter," "Life Of The Party") and covers both obscure (Hamilton Streetcar's "Invisible People") and almost expected (Status Quo's oft-covered "Pictures Of Matchstick Men").  A stunning album.

Having found their musical footing, they issued Uh Oh...No Breaks! in early 1985 - a collection padded with early Slickee Boys material re-recorded by a more confident band.  Only a step or two below Cybernetic Dreams, even retreads like "Jailbait Janet" and "Gotta Tell Me Why" sound sparkly and new.

Two more albums would hit the shelves before The Slickee Boys' run was over: Fashionably Late in 1988 seemed to focus more heavily on the band's affinity for bluesy rock; 1989's Live At Last is an accurately titled collection.  In the years since, The Slickee Boys have stayed semi-active by playing at least one reunion weekend a year.

For this week's NW4NW entry, enjoy a pair of clips from The Slickee Boys' classic Cybernetic Dreams Of Pi album: "When I Go To The Beach" and "Gotta Tell Me Why."  Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #162

North London's Neo-Neon-Rockabilly guys, The Polecats, started out thumping a stand-up bass and slinging their geetars as a trio (Tim Polecat, Boz Boorer, and Phil Bloomberg) joined by a succession of drummers, playing under the name The Cult Heroes around 1977 or so.  With Punk Rock being the cultural kick in the UK at the time, they soon discovered difficulty getting booked on Rockabilly shows:  their name sounded more like one of those upstart punk bands.  Early drummer Chris Hawkes suggested the name change before departing, and by the time Mercury Records scooped them up in 1980, they were forever more The Polecats.

Combining straightforward Rockabilly with a healthy dose of '70s Glam (Bolan's "Jeepster" and Bowie's "John I'm Only Dancing" were among their choices for cover songs and would provide them two minor hits in their home country), and wrapping the whole package up in early 1980s New Wave style, The Polecats became a popular live band.  Their 1981 debut album, Polecats Are Go!, was met with positive response back home.  With The Stray Cats starting to find radio success here in the States and spearheading a minor Rockabilly revival  (see The Rockats, Robert Gordon, etc.), it's no surprise that The Polecats' record proved to be a decent seller here as an import-only LP.  It should have been a natural for Mercury's American arm to jump on the fad and issue Polecats Are Go! domestically.

In typical American big-label fashion, they screwed up.  They waited a year and a half, and finally issued a seven-song EP, containing a few tracks from the LP and a few single sides. Make A Circuit With Me did, however, include its mighty title track, a killer rave-up that saw minor airplay on MTV, and remains The Polecats' calling-card single to this day.

The inexplicable lack of support from their record label left the band at a crossroads; the gap was filled with the release of Cult Heroes, a collection of early recordings, some of which were vintage cuts from when they used that name.  But most of these were also simply early versions of songs that had appeared on Polecats Are Go! in a more polished form.  A short live record, Live And Rockin', also appeared and offered some new material, but the time to strike had passed.

The Polecats soldiered on, however, maintaining a presence on the underground Rockabilly circuit and, in 1999, signed with a Japanese label to release an all-new collection, Polecats Won't Die! By now they had dropped much of the Glam edges and New Wave affectations and focused more a traditional, driving Rockabilly sound, a decision that served them well.

In the years since, a handful of "Best Of" compilations have surfaced, all offering different permutations of, essentially, the contents of Polecats Are Go! along with assorted live tracks and studio throwaways.  Any of them are fine, but your best bet is to find the CD reissue of the first album.

This week's NW4NW entry offers two clips from The Polecats.  First, of course, their classic, "Make A Circuit With Me," followed by a clip of their take on Bowie's "John I'm Only Dancing."  Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #161

From the release of their debut single, "Ignore The Machine," in 1982 through their present-day incarnation, few bands have staked out such singular musical territory as Alien Sex Fiend.  The fact is that, then as now, there is simply no other band that sounds like them.

Alien Sex Fiend is often lumped in with the Goth scene, especially since they cut their teeth playing at The Batcave in London, often cited as the home of Goth.  And sure, with their whiteface makeup and stringy Aqua-Net hairdos, they looked the part.  But to call them a Goth band doesn't quite convey what Alien Sex Fiend is all about.  Those expecting the somber chill of Bauhaus, the retro-glam of Specimen, or the lace-and-cobweb melodies of Siouxsie & The Banshees will find only slight shards of such sounds among Alien Sex Fiend's sonic attack.  Instead, the listener is met with rumbling pseudo-mechanical undercurrents, electronic bleeps and blorps firing from all directions, highly processed sheets of guitar noise, and the seeming lunatic rantings of frontman Nik Fiend.  Standard verse/chorus song structures are often only hinted at, and once you think you've finally latched onto an actual melody you are thrown off by a sudden sharp turn - or by the complete lack of one where it would be expected.

Their early albums as a quartet (Nik Fiend joined by his wife, billed only as Mrs. Fiend, guitarist Yaxi Highrizer and drummer Johnny Ha-Ha) are all excellent, if daunting, sonic explorations of the insane universe the band created for themselves.  Who's Been Sleeping In My Brain?, Maximum Security, and It - The Album each have rather distinct personalities, but each contains some must-hear moments.  Their high-water mark, however, is 1984's Acid Bath, wherein you'll find some of their best material: "In God We Trust (In Cars You Rust)," "Hee-Haw (Here Come The Bone People)," and "Attack!!!!!#2" lead a set that more than one reviewer has likened to a soundtrack for a horrific nightmare.

Highrizer and Ha-Ha left in the late 1980s, reducing Alien Sex Fiend to a husband and wife duo; this also freed Nik and Mrs. Fiend (real names: Nik and Chrissie Wade) to experiment more with electronic music and studio trickery.  They continued to issue albums at a regular pace (Another Planet, Curse, and Open Head Surgery, among others) as well some killer singles like "Buggin' Me" and "Now I'm Feeling Zombified."  They briefly re-expanded to a four piece unit with two new members, but for the past few years have reverted to the Fiend duo.  Not nearly as active or prolific as they once were, Alien Sex Fiend nonetheless continues to issue reports from the furthest outposts of musical sanity.

For this week's NW4NW entry, here are a pair of Alien Sex Fiend videos: their debut single, "Ignore The Machine," and the later-era "Buggin' Me." Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #160

Brian James' spot in punk history was assured after he joined up with Rat Scabies, Captain Sensible and Dave Vanian to form The Damned and wrote/co-wrote their classic debut album, Damned Damned Damned.  After being such an integral part of one of the most important bands of the Punk/New Wave Era, James found himself fronting one of the Era's most sadly unknown footnotes.

After the second Damned album, Music For Pleasure, James struck out on his own.  He assembled a band that included Andy Colqhoun on bass, Tony Moor on keyboards, and ex-Hawkwind drummer Allen Powell. Collectively known as Tanz Der Youth, the quartet issued one positively brilliant single, "I'm Sorry I'm Sorry"/"Delay," in 1978.  Both sides of the single crackle with energy and excitement, maintaining the intensity of James' songs with The Damned while clearing moving forward from that sound.  In interviews, James declared Tanz Der Youth's sound to be "transmagical" and "the sound of the '80s," a mix of punk rock and psychedelia and old-fashioned garage rock.

Somehow, Tanz Der Youth landed a gig opening for Black Sabbath, but after only a few dates of being pelted with assorted garbage from the lunkheads who didn't want to hear anything but Sabbath, Tanz Der Youth quit the tour and, shortly thereafter, quit as a band.  They left behind only that one awesome single as their entire officially released output, although a bit of searching will turn up recordings of a Peel Sessions broadcast they did in September of 1978 which included both songs that appear on the single as well as two others, "Mistaken" and "Why I Die."  The MySpace page set up for Tanz Der Youth offers up a few unreleased gems as well, in the hopes that enough interest might be generated to put everything out in official form.

James drifted through the next couple of years releasing a pair of solo singles, "Why? Why? Why?" and "Ain't That A Shame," in 1979, and forming Brian James & The Brains as a touring act, before landing a spot in Stiv Bators' punk rock supergroup The Lords Of The New Church.  These days, he heads up The Brian James Gang, and has issued at least one album with that band.

For this week's entry, however, we present both tracks from an undeservedly forgotten band.  Here are audio-only clips from Tanz Der Youth for "I'm Sorry I'm Sorry" and "Delay." Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #159

"The hipness and success of London punk-explosion photocopy fanzine Sniffin' Glue was almost entirely due to the irreverent, pugnacious sincerity of its founder/sparkplug Mark P(erry). That Perry should form a band seemed a natural progression; that it was any good at all a surprise; that it maintained a stance utterly disdainful of compromise a small miracle. Unfortunately, this musical Diogenes had neither adequate vision nor foresight to avoid the pitfalls of Striving for Artistic Expression."  - TrouserPress.com (source)

In that single paragraph TrouserPress.com does a damn good job of explaining the lifespan of the band that Mark Perry formed, Alternative TV.  Perry and Alex Fergusson co-founded the band in 1976; their first recording was the reggae-punk goof "Love Lies Limp," issued as a flexi-single (remember those, kids?) with the final issue of Sniffin' Glue.  Perry's Cockney ramblings about his *ahem* shortcomings and failures are more spoken than sung, purposefully rude, and juvenile, but backed by a lazy, loping groove, the single works and is actually damn good.

Two proper singles followed in the remainder of 1977.  "How Much Longer" mocked the conformity of the various social cliques in late-70s England, punks included; the utterly brilliant "Life" may just be the finest expression of the futility of it all ever written: "Life's about as wonderful as a cold."  By the time the full-length LP The Image Has Cracked was ready for release, Fergusson had left and Perry had become disillusioned with punk's self-imposed musical limitations.  The album, then, was a bit adrift.  The more straightforward tracks are quite good: "Action Time Vision" is one of the all-time great forgotten punk singles.  But opening the album with the interminable "Alternatives" meant a lot of people never got to the good stuff before yanking the record off the turntable.  (Punk kids in 1977 weren't about to sit through ten minutes of whooping and screeching.)

If you didn't know better, you'd think the second ATV album, Vibing Up The Senile Man, was either a poorly executed joke or the ramblings of an asylum escapee. Song structure is all but forgotten in many places, with seemingly random plinking of instruments and Perry screaming poetry at ya in its place.  There are moments where it all seems to almost coalesce into something worthwhile, but most of the album is simply a difficult listen that never rewards the effort.  Avoid this one.

Alex Fergusson returned in 1981 for a brand new Alternative TV LP, which sounds nothing like either of the first two albums.  Strange Kicks is neither punk nor experimental, but rather surprisingly upbeat new wave pop.  Taken on its own merits it's a good album, so long as you don't find Perry's strong-as-ever accent particularly unpleasant.  "There Goes My Date With Doug" (with guest vocalist Dee Dee Thorn) could have been a hit for Kirsty MacColl or Tracey Ullman; "Fun City" is a fun romp; "Communicate" is solid early synthpop.  Just don't go into the album expecting "Action Time Vision," or you'll be very disappointed.

Cherry Red's 1999 compilation Action Time Vision does a surprisingly good job collecting the best from ATV's catalog as well as some assorted Mark Perry side projects, despite containing none of the material from Strange Kicks.  Nonetheless, it's a good primer to the odd musical world of a former fanzine editor turned musician.

Not a lot of video of Alternative TV is out there, so this week we feature two audio-only clips.  First up, the excellent "Life," and then, of course, "Action Time Vision."  Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #158

The Sound was one of those shoulda-been-bigger-then-they-were bands. Coming from the same part of the musical spectrum as Echo & The Bunnymen, The Comsat Angels, Magazine and Joy Division, The Sound sounded a little bit like each of those bands. Their melodies were hook-laden; their lyrics were literate. Why they never reached the same sized audience as their contemporaries remains a mystery.

Adrian Borland formed The Sound around 1980. He and his bandmates (Graham Bailey, Mike Dudley, and Bi Marshall) were all refugees from an earlier group, The Outsiders. The Sound's early albums, Jeopardy (1980) and From The Lion's Mouth (1981), received little notice despite solid songs. In hindsight, they stand as lost classics. The lack of success at the time, though, rankled The Sound's record label, who demanded a more "commercial" album. Borland believed the reason for poor sales was the label's lack of support and promotion, not the band's material, and responded with 1982's All Fall Down, a decidedly uncommercial affair that satisfied the band's three-album contract if not the label's wishes.

By 1984, The Sound had found a new home on the independent Statik label and rebooted their career with an excellent six-song EP, Shock Of Daylight.  It was this record that contained the incredible "Golden Soldiers," an insistent, irresistible steamroller of a song that seemed like it might finally be the break The Sound needed.  The band's luck faltered again, however, when Statik collapsed in bankruptcy shortly after the release of the follow-up album, Heads And Hearts.  Again adrift with no label and no promotion behind them, The Sound faded quickly back into obscurity.  Borland himself had begun fighting a steadily worsening depression.

The Sound tried once more, in 1987, with the independently released Thunder Up.  When that album, too, failed to capture much attention, The Sound split apart.  While his bandmates wandered out of the music business in the ensuing years, Borland continued to record.  Over the next ten years he released several solo recordings.  Sadly, his depression worsened over time.  Unable to find happiness, Adrian Borland took his own life in 1999.

The Sound's tale is a sad one to be sure.  But for a bit of luck here or there along the way, their name might be right alongside their better-known contemporaries in New Wave history.  This week's NW4NW remembers The Sound through two clips: first up, a televised performance of "Sense Of Purpose," an early track from the excellent From The Lion's Mouth album; then, an audio-only of their crowning achievement, "Golden Soldiers."  Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #157

It's hard to know exactly how to describe Couch Flambeau to someone who has never heard them before.  They were young, loud, and snotty, but they weren't exactly a punk band; they were very funny, but much more than just a novelty act; they had the chops to play in unusual time signatures and with jarringly shifting tempos, even moving into jazz-like improv jamming at times, yet the band was almost like a hobby they indulged in their off time from their day jobs.  A list of of the band's gigs dating back to 1983 on their website lists no shows outside of their hometown Milwaukee area, yet every "big name" band that came through Milwaukee had them as their opening band.

Back in 1980, Jay Tiller and Neil Socol formed the band that would become Couch Flambeau, quickly releasing a local cassette, Curiosity Rocks, under the name Couch Potatoes.  By 1983 they had adopted their new name and released their debut album, Mammal Insect Marriage.  While the rest of the world looked at Milwaukee as the home of Violent Femmes, the Femmes themselves and others in the know were raving about Couch Flambeau.

They hit their stride with 1985's The Day The Music Died. Containing slices of snarky fun like "The Zoo Is Cool," "Curtains For You," and "Satan's School For Girls," it's a record that takes a few listens before it really sinks into your brain.  Once it's there, though, you'll never forget it.  The following year they issued a hysterical, perhaps autobiographical, single, "We're Not So Smart."  On the flip side was a wonderfully irreverent cover of Mountain's "Mississippi Queen."  That was followed in 1987 by the five-song Models ep, whose title track may be Couch Flambeau's best known song outside of Milwaukee - which is not to imply it was anything more than an obscure cult favorite.  By the time Ghostride appeared in 1989, though, Couch Flambeau was reduced to only the original duo of Tiller and Socol, and it seemed that their run was over.

Almost a decade later, though, Tiller and Socol were back with a self-titled CD that picked up right where they left off. For those who had missed out the first time around, 2004's I Did A Power Slide In The Taco Stand anthology does a nice job of spanning their career.  It's a perfect primer to the joys of Couch Flambeau.

Here is a rare clip of Couch Flambeau in an early local TV appearance performing "The Zoo Is Cool," followed by an audio-only of their anthemic "We'll Go Through The Windshield Together." Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #156

Out of Indiana in the late 1970s came the glint-edged metal machine music of MX-80 Sound.  Treading the darker waters of the same art-school music pool as Devo and Pere Ubu, with obvious nods to early-'70s Krautrock bands like Neu! and Can, and clearly brethren to the like-minded Chrome, MX-80 Sound was loud, sinister, and unsettling; simultaneously they were literate and compelling.  The line from MX-80 to bands like Sonic Youth or Nine Inch Nails is a fairly direct one, or at least very easy to trace.

They debuted in 1976 with a 7-inch EP, Big Hits - Hard Pop From The Hoosiers, which was a solid enough effort to catch the attention of Island Records.  With Island they recorded their debut album, Hard Attack, the following year.  Baffled over how to promote MX-80's sonic attack, Island never issued the LP in the US, and soon dropped the band.  Both the album and the EP have been reissued as a single CD.

A move to San Francisco reinvigorated the band, who were picked up by Ralph Records, home of musical bizarros like The Residents and Snakefinger. Given free reign, MX-80 Sound came up with the absolutely incredible Out Of The Tunnel in 1980.  Giving off one of the loudest, lowest sustained vinyl volume assaults since Blue Cheer recorded Vincebus Eruptum, Out Of The Tunnel rumbles out of the gate with a pair of stunners, "It's Not My Fault" and "Follow That Car," and somehow manages to maintain the frenetic energy and unceasing wash of sound from there.  The single "Someday You'll Be King" is a definite high point; "Frankie I'm Sorry" or "Gary And Priscilla" could just as easily have been plucked as the single. An incredible record start to finish.

A year later they nearly matched it with Crowd Control.  The wall of sound is still in full force, and the volume is still turned up to 11, but this time around vocalist Richard Stim is buried deeper into the mix.  Stim's lyrics were never easy to decipher, but here they are even more hopelessly lost in the white noise.  Still, with standouts like "Why Are We Here?," Crowd Control is a winner.  It's obvious that Mission Of Burma and Fugazi, among others, were paying attention.

The two Ralph LPs were also combined for a single CD, retitled Out Of Control.  You must own it. 

The MX-80 story gets fuzzy at this point.  While the band never really split, they seemed to drop off the radar screen, not returning until 1987's Existential Lover, which attempts to pick up where they left off.  I've Seen Enough, released in 1995, duplicates a lot of the same material.  Das Love Boat followed in 1990, collecting a CD's worth of the band's instrumental tracks dating back throughout their history (their cover of the theme to John Carpenter's Halloween is not to be missed!)

Again the band went into seclusion, emerging 10 years later with We're An American Band, titled after their nightmarishly creepy cover of the Grand Funk Railroad party anthem.  A bizarre legal entanglement involving the album and at-the-time recently enacted laws about advertising product as being made in America seemed to have finally disillusioned the Hoosier noise machine, although, again, they have never officially disbanded.

For this week's clips, we go back to the two wonderful Ralph LPs: Out Of The Tunnel's "Someday You'll Be King" and Crowd Control's "Why Are We Here?"  Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #155

The Bongos were, originally, a trio from Hoboken, NJ, who found their signature sound in a mix of '60s coffee shop folkiness and late-'70s jangly power pop with angular, mildly off-center arrangements.

Richard Barone, Rob Norris, and Frank Giannini debuted with a fantastic 1980 single, "Telephoto Lens" b/w "Glow In The Dark," on the independent Fetish Records label.  With that signature sound already fully formed, both songs are instantly memorable and insidiously catchy.  They would follow that a year later with another killer single, "The Bulrushes" b/w "Automatic Doors."  Here the A-side was clearly the star; "Doors" tries a bit too hard to be consciously offbeat.  But how can you complain about three solid sides out of a band's first four?

These singles, as well as a few other early indie releases, were compiled into a handy full-length LP, Drums Along The Hudson, in 1982.  Within a year, The Bongos signed with RCA.

Around the same time, the band expanded to a quartet with the addition of guitarist James Mastro.  The foursome made a bit of a splash with their first major-label release, the five-song Numbers With Wings EP (1983).  The title track was issued as a video clip that received a decent push in MTV's playlist; "Tiger Nights," "Barbarella," and "Sweet Blue Cage" continued the band's string of pop gems.  Noticeably better production polished those gems to positively gleaming, highlighting The Bongos' shimmering harmonies without removing their occasional eccentricities - a rarity when a major-label production team gets their mitts on such a band.  This is a must-have record, no question.

The followed with their first (and, as it would turn out, only) all-new full-length album, 1985's Beat Hotel. Lead by yet another winning single, "Brave New World (True Love Is Ordinary)," the record has many wonderful moments, but also made it clear that The Bongos powers were strained when it came to filling out an album's worth of material. This is not to say it's a bad record; however, it does get a bit samey-sounding about halfway through side 2.

Barone and Mastro issued a side-project album along the way, and Barone released a series of solo records in the late '80s.  The Bongos' material is all available on CD and well worth picking up.  For this week's NW4NW entry, here are a pair of The Bongos' best: "The Bulrushes" and "Numbers With Wings."  Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #154

Holland's Gruppo Sportivo has been making music since 1976, but in three and a half decades and over the course of numerous albums released in several variations across the globe, they have achieved little more than cult status.  Their following, however, is a rabid one, and keeps the band active even today: they are currently touring throughout The Netherlands, where they have seen their greatest commercial success over the years.

Gruppo Sportivo writes and sings mainly in English because, as founder and frontman Hans Vandenburg once explained, "no one else outside Holland speaks Dutch and we want our songs to be heard and listened to everywhere."  In their initial incarnation, their sound fit very much into the punky New Wave mold of bands like The Rezillos or The B-52's, despite having a strong '70s Europop flavor.  The occasional awkward phrasing as they tried to translate from Dutch to English gave their music an offbeat feel; their witty lyrics and tendency towards satire won them many fans on the underground scene.

Their first two albums, 10 Mistakes and Back To 1978, were distilled into a single LP, Mistakes, for the American market in 1979.  Distributed with a bonus 7" EP (More Mistakes), it was a great introduction to the band then and remains the place to jump in to this day.  The package contains many of their best moments, including "Beep Beep Love," "I Shot My Manager," the wonderfully scathing "Disco Really Made It" ("It's empty and I hate it...") and the nearly perfect "Girls Never Know."  You will seldom find the LP and EP together in used record bins these days, but each turns up separately now and again and are well worth picking up.  (Many years later an import-only CD again combined the first two records and the 6-song American EP into Back To 19 Mistakes, adding a then-current cover of Wall Of Voodoo's ""Mexican Radio" to the proceedings.)

1980's Copy Copy suffered a bit from having stronger ideas than songs ("The Unusual Soup Recipe Blues" has to rank among the greatest song titles ever!),  but the catchy hooks were back a year later for Pop! Goes The Brain.  Still, the band seemed to be running out of gas.  Design Moderne followed in 1982, issued in a shopping bag over the album's cover - original copies with the bag go for big money on eBay, but that's more for the artwork than the music.  1984's SombreroTimes effectively brought Gruppo Sportivo's first era to a somewhat disappointing end.

Like many other bands, Gruppo Sportivo came back together a few years later, and have continued to record and release material in their home country, but for this week's NW4NW entry, I celebrate the wonderful early New Wave days of the band with two of their best.  First up, enjoy the video for "Disco Really Made It."  Then, an audio-only clip of "Girls Never Know." Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #153

When it comes to Los Angeles-based punk bands, there are certain names that spring immediately to most people's minds: Black Flag. The Circle Jerks. X. The Germs. One often overlooked name that belongs on that same short list of important LA bands is The Plugz.

Along with fellow Chicano punks The Zeros, The Plugz played rough, loud, driving music that was abrasive enough to please the punk kids, but was given a decidedly noticeable flavor of traditional Mexican folk music.  Over the course of two outstanding if underrated albums and a handful of memorable singles - not to mention inclusion on the soundtrack of one of the greatest movies of the era - The Plugz found a unique and memorable voice among the throng of often samey-sounding LA bands cropping up in the late-70s/early-80s.

The original line of lead vocalist Tito Larriva on guitar, Barry McBride on bass and Carlos Quintana on drums came together around 1977-78, debuting with a 3-song 7-inch that included "Move," "Mindless Contentment," and "Let Go."  This was followed a year later by an outstanding single (one of my favorites of the era, actually), "Achin'."  These two records introduced the band's basic sound: basic, straightforward garage-y punk.  It was the flip side of the "Achin'" single, however, where they really let loose with a hyper-speed cover of Richie Valens' "La Bamba."

An album soon followed.  1979's Electrify Me gathered re-recordings of "Let Go" and "La Bamba" together with a strong selection of new material that ran the gamut from the reggae-fied folk of the title track to the thunka-thunka punk of "A Gain - A Loss" to the Clash-like "Satisfied Die."  There simply isn't a clunker in the mix.  Excellent.

Barry McBride left the band around this time, and was eventually replaced by Tony Marsico.  In 1981 The Plugz issued their second album, Better Luck.  While the music here harks back to the earlier material ("El Clavo y la Cruz" could have fit easily on the first record; "Achin'" gets re-recorded for this LP), The Plugz did not remain stagnant in their sophomore effort.  This album explores some of the folkier sides of their music which were only hinted at on Electrify Me, and tracks like "Touch For Cash" and the stunning "Blue Sofa" show a band that has matured and moved out of the garage.

The Plugz disappeared for awhile after that, resurfacing in 1984 when they donated three tracks ("El Clavo y la Cruz," "Reel Ten," and an excellent cover, "Hombre Secreto (Secret Agent Man)") to the soundtrack to the movie Repo Man.  Rather than a triumphant comeback, however, this turned out to be The Plugz' swan song: the trio would morph into The Cruzados, a more straight-ahead and, unfortunately, bland rock and roll outfit.

Both Plugz albums were reissued on CD by the Enigma label around 1990, but those discs have fallen out of print, and unfortunately both they and the original vinyl albums command high dollars if and when you can find them.  Still, if you're patient you can sometimes find them turning up in an eBay auction or a used record shop at more budget-friendly prices.  Trust me, both are well worth the effort.

Listen to the original single recording of "Achin'" and their outstanding cover of "La Bamba" below to enjoy one of the truly underrated bands to come out of the LA scene. Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #152

There are those who will argue exactly where the whole Mutant Disco/No Wave scene happening in late-70s New York fits on the Punk Rock-New Wave spectrum.  That it was a fascinating, creative scene is obvious from the cast of characters populating it: if you don't know the names Lydia Lunch, Arto Lindsay, Jim Sclavunos, Robert Quine, Judy Nylon, etc., get thee to Googling!  No less than Brian Eno found it a scene well worth documenting, which he did on the absolutely necessary 1978 compilation No New York. Some dismiss the music as artless noise; others see in it the seeds of influence for bands ranging from Sonic Youth to Nine Inch Nails.  No Wave had a sense of humor (or at least a sense of irony), but it was gritty, harsh, and confrontational.

Among the most confrontational of that scene were The Contortions.  Led by saxophonist James Chance, The Contortions squawked out a groove that sounded like James Brown jamming with Captain Beefheart.  Blaring and atonal one moment, funky and smooth the next, The Contortions were infamous for not only challenging their live audiences sonically but physically as well.  Chance was not above getting into shoving matches and out-and-out fistfights with the audience.

After making their vinyl debut on No New York, The Contortions issued their lone album, Buy, in 1979.  Anchored by the fantastic "Contort Yourself," Buy is a difficult but rewarding listen.  Internal tensions caused the band to blow apart around the same time the album appeared, and those tensions are audible here.

Shortly thereafter, Chance rechristened himself, assembled a new batch of musicians, and as James White & The Blacks issued the outstanding Off White LP.  While still exploring the atonal fringes of sound, this record was considerably more accessible than Buy.  A silky take on Irving Berlin's "(Tropical) Heat Wave" provides a safe and familiar jumping-off point for novice listeners, while "Contort Yourself" reappears here in a somewhat less intimidating version to welcome existing Chance/White fans.  Fellow No Wave figure Lydia Lunch (with whom Chance had helped to create the infamous Teenage Jesus & The Jerks) appears incognito on the album.  A fantastic record.

A somewhat revised lineup of James White & The Blacks released Sax Maniac in 1982, basically continuing where Off White left off.  (This time around, the Johnny Mercer/Howard Arlen chestnut "That Ol' Black Magic" gets the wailing treatment.) A few years later, a final James White & The Blacks album, Melt Yourself Down, appeared as a Japanese-only release.

Over the years, Chance has never stopped, playing with various musicians and under assorted variations of the Chance/White/Contortions names, and a number of live recordings of varying quality have been issued on vinyl and cassette.  In 2003 a handy 4-disc career retrospective, Irresistible Impulse, turned up, eliminating the need to track down the whole discography.

For this week's NW4NW entry, here are a couple of clips from The Contortions.  First, an audio-only clip of the legendary "Contort Yourself," and then rare footage from a NYC cable access show, InnerTubes, of The Contortions performing "I Can't Stand Myself" at Max's Kansas City in 1979. Enjoy!