New Wave for the New Week #149

Back in the '80s, there was a nifty little punk rock record shop here in Lancaster called Web Of Sound.  It was one of three havens for finding underground music in town - The Web was geared more towards the sixtiesish garage-y punk bands of the mid-decade who worshiped at the alter of The Seeds, after whose legendary 1966 album the store was named; BBC Records catered more to the New Wave hairspray kids chasing down the newest Smiths imports; Stan's Record Bar had a storefront on North Prince Street since my Mom bought her Elvis Presley singles there as a kid, and seemed to have at least one copy of everything you could think of (and if they didn't, they'd order it for you) - especially those even-then ridiculously high-priced colored vinyl punk 7-inches.

Stan's is the only one still standing, but The Web in its heyday was not just a record shop, but also a gathering place for the local scenesters, and, a place where you could get Bill or John or Rex behind the counter to play a record for you.  Not just a snippet of a song or two so you can decide if you want to buy it, but actually play the whole damn record!  And so it was that on one slow Sunday afternoon, hanging out at Web Of Sound, that I convinced Rex to spin Breakfast With The Holes by Les Black's Amazing Pink Holes.

Les Black and his band (Cheese Borger on bass, Kurt Turd on guitar, and Freddy Pants on drums) started making noise on the Cleveland scene around 1980, and quickly became known as one of those bands you either loved or hated.  Proficiency in musicianship was never important to The Pink Holes; they were snarky, foul-mouthed brats whose lives were steeped in punk rock and pop culture.  Had they picked up spray paint cans instead of instruments, they would have vandalized the neighborhood in extremely sloppy but wickedly funny graffiti.  Instead, they played extremely sloppy but wickedly funny music.

They released two records on their own Eldo Farms label. 1984's We're Glad We Are What We Are presented The Pink Holes to the world with a side of studio recordings and a side recorded live at a New Year's Eve gig at The Lakefront in Cleveland.  Both sides contain more covers than originals.  The originals make it clear that high art is not the aim here - consider "I.A.G.A.H. (I Ain't Got A Head)," the title track in which each member takes a turn rhyming his name with something foul, or the classic "More," in which we are directed to "..drink more liquids and eat more shit" because that's what we do every day.  Sure it's juvenile and stupid, but it's also fun and hysterical.

It's in their choices for songs to cover, though, that Les Black's Amazing Pink Holes really hit their mark.  Early on, a fairly straightforward (well, as straightforward as The Pink Holes can get) cover of "Ring Of Fire" belies what can happen to a song when these guys decide to gut it.  They slop through a killer rendition of the theme song from "Land Of The Lost;" The Shangri-La's "Heaven Only Knows" gets a snickering run through; "Proof Is On The Pad" is, in fact, the old Stridex jingle.  And it's worth the price of admission to stick around for their unlisted version of "Cum On Feel The Noize," which they seem to be making up on the spot.

Better still is the record that introduced my ears to the band, 1985's Breakfast With The Holes.  A six-song EP that boasts a free toy surprise inside on the front cover, Breakfast eviscerates "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" and "Long Tall Texan," celebrates Brooke Shields, explains the band's name in under a minute, and commits to vinyl the most uncomfortably funny Oedipal complex imaginable.  The whole thing closes out with the bizarre but wonderful "Baseball Park Fun," and a secret backtracked message that really only makes sense on vinyl.  Brilliant.

Although the band has soldiered on for going on three decades, they released nothing else until 2004, when an odd single showed up: Les Black's Amazing Pink Holes with Herschell Gordon Lewis on vocals (!) performing the theme to Lewis' 1964 splatter flick 2000 Maniacs!  To add to the oddness of this sudden release, of which 2000 were pressed (of course), the vinyl is actually a 6-inch single rather than the traditional 7-inch, and was pressed on splattered vinyl.

Both of the original Pink Holes records were reissued in 2000 on the SmogVeil label with bonus tracks.  Breakfast With Holes appends several early demo recordings, while the slightly retitled We're Glad We Are What We Are Revisited offers the full live show from which the original album's second side was culled.

For this week's NW4NW entry, enjoy two clips from Les Black's Amazing Pink Holes.  First up, a very early (circa 1980) video for "Proof Is On The Pad."  Then, The Pink Holes with Herschell Gordon Lewis on "2000 Maniacs."  Enjoy!

Six Word Sunday

Cadbury eggs, chocolate bunnies, and jellybeans!

Take Me Out To The Ballgame

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

The 2012 Major League Baseball Regular Season officially opens tonight at 7:00 with the Cardinals v Marlins - the Phils open tomorrow against Pittsburgh!

So let those two glorious words ring out throughout the land: "PLAY BALL!"

bugs bunny - Baseball Bugs

New Wave for the New Week #148

There's an old saying that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime, and only time will tell you which.  A similar rule could be applied to bands that you hear:  some artists you hear and they evolve into favorites for life, while others may have only a stretch of two or three good albums before they start moving in a direction you don't care for.  And then, there are the bands that show up only for a reason: that one album, or one incredible song.

Camden, England's Passion Puppets are a fine example of the latter.  Appearing essentially out of nowhere in 1984, Passion Puppets' album Beyond The Pale sported an awesome single, "Like Dust," that was seized upon by college radio DJs across the land.  With its spaghetti-western guitar twang, chunka-kachunka percussion, and chant-along chorus, it's a schizophrenic record:  Brit kids with Echo & The Bunnymen haircuts trying to be as American as The Del Fuegos or Green On Red, just missing the mark but still coming up with something pretty damn nifty in its own right.

Then, just as fast, they were gone.  No follow up, no info, nothing.  "Like Dust" hung around in the back of the minds of those of us who loved it back then, occasionally showing up on New Wave compilation CDs here and there, until it and its parent album were surprisingly reissued on CD in 2006, with a few B-sides and unreleased recordings tacked on for good measure.  That disc has now fallen out of print, but both it and the original vinyl can be found pretty easily.  Worth picking up.

For this week's NW4NW entry, here is the clip for "Like Dust."  Enjoy!

Six Word Sunday

Often, cold leftovers make awesome breakfasts!

New Wave for the New Week #147

In earlier posts I've mentioned Boston, MA's remarkable history of great independent music.  This week's featured NW4NW band is another example, who had a bit of an unfortunate twist in their tale.

Nervous Eaters had been playing around Boston's club scene under various names and permutations for a couple of years when their debut single, "Loretta," was released on the very indy Rat label in 1976.  Among their more popular live numbers, "Loretta" clearly captures the sound of a one-time hard rock band who's direction was more influenced by The Stooges than The Stones, and who had heard and loved The Ramones a few times.  With its lazy beat, monotone back-up vocals, and in-your-face simplicity, it's a Boston proto-punk classic, and very fitting for scene they shared with bands like DMZ and The Real Kids (with whom they also interchanged members at various times in the early days).

It would be two and a half years before their next single, but during that time they were a hard-working band developing not only a huge local following but also quite a reputation among the music press, especially in the Northeast.  Their sound evolved into harder, punkier territory, and that second single, 1979's "Just Head," showed it, adding a bit of the Pistols/Damned/UK Punk flavor to the mix.  The two singles and the glowing reviews brought them to the attention of Elektra Records, who had recently scored big with another Boston band, The Cars.

Unfortunately for the band, Elektra's concept was to make Nervous Eaters into the next Cars.  They removed the rough edges, changed their outfits from black t-shirts and blue jeans to colorful neon, and over-produced everything into radio-friendly mush.  As a result, their long-awaited national bow, 1980's Nervous Eaters, appalled the band's fan base, dumbfounded the critics who had been writing about a very different band, and did not sell.  To demonstrate how out of step with the scene Elektra really was, they thought it clever to house the record in a sleeve die-cut to look like a bite had been taken out of it.  (Get it? Nervous Eaters? Is this thing on?)  Only a re-recording of the classic "Loretta" came out of the fiasco relatively unscathed, but then it would take a lot of doing to ruin a song that good.

The damage was done, though, and Nervous Eaters disappeared until a revived version of the band issued the much, much better Hot Steel and Acid in 1986.  A six-song EP on the independent Ace of Hearts label, the record hewed much closer to the gritty, raw sounds of the band's early days.  Their moment had passed, though, and the record fell out of print without making that much of a splash.

An all-new Nervous Eaters album, Eat This!, suddenly appeared in 2003, followed a few years later by Eaterville, Vol. 1, which compiled some of the band's earliest demos and recordings (as far back as 1973!) and serves as strong evidence that the rest of the world really missed out on a great band.  There are those who say that if you go back and listen to the infamous Elektra album nowadays for what it was and not in the context of Nervous Eaters' true sound, it's not that awful of an album.  If you'd like to take that chance, go right ahead.  I've tried, but can't sit through it.

I'd rather remember Nervous Eaters right with their debut single, "Loretta," from 1976.  Then, for your comparison shopping convenience (and because it remains the only palatable thing from that Elektra LP), listen to the re-recorded version from 1980, and decide for yourself.  [Note, for some reason the clip of the second version continues on for almost three minutes of silence after the song ends - don't feel you have to sit through that, you won't be missing anything.]  Enjoy!

Six Word Sunday

Words falling on deaf ears. Again.

FINALLY!

Yeah, it's pretty much going to surprise no one that I'm about to rave over One-Eyed Doll's performance in Baltimore last night at Ram's Head Live, but that's because I'm a sensible person.  How anyone can see the mighty Austin, TX duo in action and not be blown away is simply incomprehensible!

Was beyond psyched to finally get to see One-Eyed Doll live after months of singing their praises here on the blog, over on my Facebook page, and, frankly, anywhere anyone would listen.  Assiduous readers will recall that shortly after I was introduced to the band they were scheduled to play in Allentown, PA - not too far away from good ol' Lancaster - and I was geared up for that show only to find it cancelled at the last minute.  (Long time friends will recall that I like to use the word "assiduous" whenever I can.  I can be a vocab snob sometimes.)  Of course, as soon as the current tour in support of Orgy was announced and a Baltimore show was added to the itinerary, I knew I would be there come hell or high water!

I've mentioned before that Baltimore is swiftly becoming my favorite town for music.  It's only about an hour and a half each way from where I sit in PA, and this particular venue is easy to get to (pretty much a straight shot down I-83 right into the city) and has an attached parking garage with entrance right to the club door - no waiting in long preshow lines on the street like most clubs!  Heck, the restroom even had an attendant - and after many years of experiencing seriously dodgy if not outright vomitous club bathrooms, it was nice to see a clean one that didn't make me feel like I should burn my shoes after setting foot inside.

The show was originally scheduled to be three bands, with Richmond, VA's Faultline joining One-Eyed Doll and Orgy on the bill.  Had a chance to talk with One-Eyed Doll's drummer Jason Rufus "Junior" Sewell before the show at the merch table, and learned that Faultline would not be there.  Apparently, they have split up the band.  So, it became a two-band show with each band getting a little more stage time. Nice.

Technically the set-up was One-Eyed Doll opening for Orgy, but it felt more like Orgy mopping up after One-Eyed Doll tore the place down!  Kimberly Freeman is simply an unstoppable force.  From her stark good-little-goth-girl look to her gymnastic choreography (how does she kick that high?), she seizes your attention from the moment she steps onstage and never lets you out of her clutches. She tells stories, insists on crowd participation, showers the front rows with mouthfuls of water, stalks around the stage like a lioness protecting her territory, and collapses in apparently complete exhaustion between songs only to quickly rise and begin the process anew.  She is constant motion, leaping the barricade to become one with the crowd, tumbling back onto the stage like a rag doll, literally bending over backwards for her performance at times.  She pulls various hats out of a bag behind her amp, but none of them stay on her head very long: a few seconds of wild hair-whipping headbanging sends each one flying.  Yet through all the fury, her guitar never stops - and when you look past the show, she's a damn good guitarist.

Speaking of damn good, if you can somehow manage to summon the strength to tear your eyes away from Kimberly, you'll notice Junior bashing his drums as though his job is to pound them into the ground like nails in a board.  On this evening, his intensity was such that by the midpoint of their set one of his cymbals was literally cracked halfway though!  While he may not be the visual focal point of the show, he is the constant driver of it's ferocity.  

On this night, they scorched through an excellent set, opening with "Committed" and including "Nudie Bar," "Fight," "Pao!," and "Be My Friend" among others - a good representation of their material and their wicked sense of humor.  The closer was an awesome rendition of "Monster," culminating in Kimberly's running leap across the stage into Junior's drum kit, sending drums, cymbals, and Junior sprawling across the floor.  Always helpful, she then picked Junior up by the throat and drug him to center stage where they took their bow before demanding that we all follow her as she leaped the barricade into the crowd and became our pied piper leading us to the merch table, where she and Junior spent the better part of the next hour or so talking to fans, signing autographs, and taking pictures.  Kimberly and Junior are simply two of the nicest, friendliest people.  They truly seem honored by their fans' adulation, and were more than willing to spend time with each and every person.

Orgy turned out to be better than I expected, especially given the task of having to try to follow One-Eyed Doll.  This tour is Orgy's return after 7 or 8 years of inactivity; in actuality, this version of the band contains only one original member, Jay Gordon, and his newly-assembled troupe of musicians.  Orgy was one of those bands that always somehow flew under my radar in the '90s.  Of course, I knew of their cover of New Order's "Blue Monday," and had heard other tracks here and there, but I never really got into their music for whatever reason.  They sounded good last night, though - a bit like Pretty Hate Machine-era Nine Inch Nails crossed with a slicker-sounding Pop Will Eat Itself.  But even with five band members and an LED light show projected behind them, they didn't produce the same energy that two people with a guitar, drums and a bag of hats had created earlier in the night.  And while Orgy's set has inspired me to go back and learn what I missed the first time around, they ran probably about three songs too long - it all started to sound same-y too me.

Overall, I don't think I could have spent a better twenty bucks for a Sunday night's entertainment.  Now, I want you to listen to me closely:  if One-Eyed Doll plays anywhere near you, you must - MUST - go see them.  Drop whatever else you're doing, change plans, whatever, but you must go.  I promise you will not be disappointed!  I sure wasn't!

As always, more pics from the show will be up on the That's What I Was Going To Say Facebook page later tonight. Stop by and maybe "like" the page while you're there, won't you?

Six Word Sunday

One-Eyed Doll. Baltimore. Tonight. BE THERE!

Six Word Sunday

Holy cow! It's Sunday, isn't it?!?