THE KINKS' MUSWELL HILLBILLIES ALBUM

The famously clichéd answer to the question "Beatles or Stones?" is "The Kinks," right?  It's one of those clichés that's really kinda true.  The Kinks had both the songwriting chops of the Beatles and the ragged edge of the Stones, and created a body of work that stood on its own, transcending the limitations of those other two groups.  I started listening to the Kinks when my pal Mr. Mike played their entire Singles A+B collection on the newfangled CD jukebox at a tiki bar in San Francisco once, on a west coast road trip.  Of course I'd heard "You Really Got Me" and "All Day and All of the Night" on oldies radio, but hearing all their early 45's, in order, was an ear-opening experience.  Brilliant slashes of melodic, smart rock and roll.

Sometime later I heard the Kinks Kronikles record and was stunned by the breadth and depth of the songwriting on display.  Not just the songwriting, but the shambling attitude they took with their music, and the brilliant, sometimes viciously applied humor.  This was something that the Beatles and Stones lacked.  Ray Davies wasn't joking around in his music, but used sarcasm and wit to lash out at a world gone evil and stupid, and I could relate.

There's another thing the Beatles and Stones lacked -- a real sense of social justice.  The Beatles were rich from the time they were young and never really dived into political, class-conscious critique; The Stones were too jaded to care, and songs like "Street Fighting Man," no matter how menacing, felt a bit phony.  The Kinks, on the other hand, took pains to side with the working class, even going so far as to break with party lines in criticism of union bosses who lorded over the workers below them that they'd ostensibly sworn to serve.  Songs like "Get Back in Line" broke through political gamesmanship to focus on the actual, living, breathing workers who were exploited on all sides from birth to death.

Somehow, I'd never heard the Kinks' Muswell Hillbillies album until a few months ago.  Even Lola, its underappreciated predecessor, had the hit title track to guide listeners through its tales of hope and resignation.  Muswell Hillbillies, though, never seemed to gain much traction, especially in the States, where its weird mix of British music hall tunes and American country must have sent a lot of people head scratching.

What Muswell is though, is the Kinks most distinctive and perfect record of their long career.  On it, Ray Davies' disgust with the modern world, and its mistreatment of the "ordinary man" is grim, funny, dark, and powerful, and the nuance and misdirection is beautiful.  In "Have a Cuppa Tea," a rollicking ode to the English Pastime, he cuts suddenly to the bone with the refrain, "For Christ's sake, have a cuppa tea."  In that one line there lies all the hidden suffering and latent anger of the working class.

In "Uncle Son," he paints a portrait of a working man who's faced exploitation on all sides from day one-- Unionists, socialists, conservatives, and preachers have all had their way with him, using him for the symbolic power his authentic life stands for.  When Davies sings "Bless you, Uncle Son-- They won't forget you when the revolution comes" you know damn well that this ordinary working stiff, who just strove to get by, will simply be dumped on the pile of those who came before him, who were used, abused, misled and wrung dry, for one selfish purpose or another.

The other songs on Muswell are equally fine.  From start to finish it’s the Kinks' greatest accomplishment.  Give it a listen, for old Uncle Son's sake, if nothing else.

--John Porcellino

FAVORITE ALBUMS OF 2012

Van Halen: Van Halen II (Warner Bros., 1979)

Growing up I had an inherent distaste for bands like Van Halen, as their music seemed to be the soundtrack to every unpleasant encounter I had with the jockos and trendoids in the halls of my high school.  I do remember kind of liking the video for "Hot for Teacher," because, after all,  there's nothing wrong with Sexy Teachers.

It wasn't till after college, when I was working in a warehouse in DeKalb, that I realized there may be more to Van Halen than I'd previously imagined.  A co-worker brought in a cassette of Van Halen I, and that sucker played in an endless loop while we ran the glass cleaning machine.  At first it was kind of an ironic affection I had for the cornier or more theatrical tunes on the album, but at some point I realized: "I, too, have been to the edge; and I, too, have stood and looked down."

It wasn't enough to get me to buy any of their records, but I did begin listening more closely to their songs when they appeared on the Classic Rock station.  And once I did it didn't take long to recognize: "These songs are good songs."

Flash forward twenty years.  I'm living in the gritted-out villa of South Beloit, Illinois.  One of my prime sources of entertainment is digging through the $5 CD bin at Wal-Mart.  LO, there is Van Halen I;  there is Van Halen II.  I'd been eyeing their various Greatest Hits CDs in the Wal-Mart racks for some time, but I just couldn't bring myself to purchase an album with Sammy Hagar on it.  I knew Van Halen I was primo from start to finish, and when I looked at the track listing for II, I recognized "Dance the Night Away," and "Beautiful Girls" as hits, so I thought, "Why Not?"

I came home and put the CD in my boombox.  Snaky lines of phased bass drifted out, followed by volume knob swells of electric guitar... then...  the whole band erupts, and -- Wait -- "You're No Good" is THAT "You're No Good"?  The old tune made famous by Linda Ronstadt?   I guess I never listened to the lyrics.  "I broke her heart, simple and true -- I broke her heart over someone like you..."  Oh, I see.

Then "Dance the Night Away."  In a more angry phase of my life I'd cynically consider this a pander to the radio.  But when you can simultaneously get skinny guys with half-formed mustaches to go to your shows AND get their hot girlfriends to sit on their shoulders there, you're doing something right.  This is an absolute pop gem.

"Somebody Get Me a Doctor" is the song that made me really consider exploring the Van Halen oeuvre   Worried that post-I records would be filled with... filler, I checked out some album tracks on YouTube.  Nope, the album tracks rocked too-- Case in point this balls-out rocker about how difficult it is to maneuver through a crowded bar when you have a hard-on in your pants.

"Light Up the Sky" is some kind of hysterical, brilliant warning about TV Sets that brings the energy of punk to whatever this is... Metal?  Not really.  Hard Rock?  I guess.  But hard rock with all kinds of subtleties, tricked out chording, and songcraft.  Then "Spanish Fly," a nylon stringed solo by Eddie that fades into the raunchy puke of "D.O.A."

"D.O.A."  This is the prime cut for me.  This is what makes Van Halen so fascinating to me.  A lot of hard rock bands posture about toughness, both their own, and the toughness they face in the world as outsiders.  You don't get the sense from these songs, though, that Van Halen thinks they're tough.  If anything, they're more self-deprecating and sly.  They escape hairy situations with their wits, not their fists.  But here's the thing-- sometimes they don't escape hairy situations.  Sometimes they have to face up to them and just simply survive somehow.  Hence, "Ain't Talkin' Bout Love."  Hence, "D.O.A.," with its admission of being "broken down, dirty, dressed in rags / since the day my mama told me boy you pack your bags."  And perhaps the most haunting line in any hard rock song of the era-- "They found a dirty-faced kid in a garbage can."  That dirty-faced kid isn't kicking ass on the world, he's getting his ass kicked by the world.  And that, I think, is why Van Halen is so appealing to me.  It seems more real, more honest, than most hard rock bands.

Also, I have to say here, Van Halen were definitely listening to punk, definitely affected by punk.  And bands like Black Flag, who were contemporaries, were no doubt affected by Van Halen.  There are plenty of riffs, moods, and phrases here, in songs like "D.O.A.," that would not be out of place on Loose Nut, or In My Head.

Then "Women in Love...."  Was this song a radio hit?  Because it could/should have been.  If not, that just goes to show you how smokin' hot this record is.  And "Beautiful Girls," another classic.

I'm the kind of guy that's pretty obsessive.  Van Halen II was the only album I listened to for about the first half of 2012.  And I never got sick of it.  Five Stars.

T. Rex: Electric Warrior (Reprise, 1971)

Another Wal-Mart $5 Bin score.

Of course I grew up hearing "Bang a Gong" on the radio, and then in the 80's I had some kind of cheapo British various artists LP with "Jeepster" on it, and "Ride a White Swan."  But it didn't affect me too much.  I never got into the whole "glam rock" thing really, so I felt no real necessity to try to understand Marc Bolan/T. Rex, the father/s of Glam.  If anything, I only knew that he was some kind of UK teenybopper sensation, and didn't he make a movie with Ringo?

Don't know why I bought Electric Warrior at Wal-Mart that day.  I guess in intervening years I'd heard enough tales about how influential Bolan was to figure he warranted a checking out.  I still had never really gotten into the Glam Rock thing, but I did have a sensory affection for that kind of warm, pastoral/electric vibe of early seventies rock, so I thought I'd give it a shot.  Whoa!

I love everything about this album.  The hooey-gooey lyrics that are nonsense sharpened with a hidden knife; the mesmerising production: ringing acoustic guitars layered with fat, warm electrics, that crazy backup singing that is so crazy it fits like a glove; and the tunes-- bare bones rock n roll boogie in a kinetic, and somehow hazy but utterly cutthroat groove.

Then there are the songs like "Cosmic Dancer," which leaven the playful sexuality of the album with an honest and deeply felt sense of loss and decay.  That $5 Electric Warrior sent me off on a Bolan tangent that I'm still joyfully exploring.

T. Rex: The Slider (Fat Possum reissue, 1972)  

Bolan and Company didn't sound unconfident on Electric Warrior, anything but-- but here on the followup, they sound positively ecstatic.  There's not much new ground broken-- the groove of the previous album is only honed to a finer point-- but what a point!  A song like "Telegram Sam," which on its surface seems just like a "Jeepster" retread, is instead a laser-focused word painting that is impossible to resist. (I'm no dancer, but it's impossible to sit still while listening to this music.)

Bolan manages to utilize the tropes of rock n roll, the adolescent sexuality and primitive rhythms of it, but still maintain a kind of wide-eyed innocence and warmth that no doubt contributed to his enshrinement by teenage girls.  Soaring, anthemic tracks like "Metal Guru" coexist perfectly alongside ballads like "Main Man" and "Ballrooms of Mars." And "Buick Mackane" deserves to be #1 on anybody's hit parade.

De La Soul: Buhloone Mindstate (Tommy Boy, 1993)

After their buoyant, dazzlingly inventive, breakthrough debut, 3 Feet High and Rising, rightfully considered one of the all time hip-hop classics, De La Soul countered with De La Soul is Dead, a darker, more conflicted album.  Their third LP, Buhloone Mindstate rekindles the warmth of their debut, but filters it through a more mature, jazz/soul-based sound.  Although filled with humor and playfulness, the overall feel of the record is more contemplative and patient.  Working live with Maceo Parker's group, Mindstate even features an extended all-instrumental jazz interlude among the vocal tracks.

The scene criticism of De La Soul is Dead is still present in "Patti Dooke" and "Ego Trippin'," but the group's anger here is tempered with wisdom and maturity.  They sound rejuvenated, and as dedicated as ever to following their own path.  As the album title references: "It might blow up, but it won't go 'pop'." This is De La Soul at their best.

MUSIC FOR THE MASSES

Some of you may know that in the 1990's I ran a record label called Spit and a Half, and played in a rock band called the Felt Pilotes.  The most astute review the Felt Pilotes ever got during our career came from Euphony, a local metal zine, published out of Denver, Colorado.  They wrote:

"How many songs can you write with just three chords: D, G, and C?"

Strangely enough, that writer nailed our ethos on the head.

My friend Jon Pinnow, who is known for such things, has been assembling a Spit and a Half Bandcamp site.  What is Bandcamp?  It's a place you can go online to listen to and purchase music directly from the artists themselves.  So far we have all the Felt Pilotes releases up: The debut 7" single "Never Satisfied" (+2), the Moving Day ep, the 10 song album Wonderful Summer, and a couple rarities: Live 8/22/95, a recording of the group performing as a duo (including five otherwise unrecorded songs) at the Mercury Cafe in Denver, before a Debaser concert; and "Carol Aña," which was a "bonus track" previously available only on the Young Love: 92-95 cassette compilation.

Also up is Porky's Revenge, my one and only solo recording, and Profiles in Courage, a 4 band 8 track compilation of boom box punk from the 1980's that Maximum Rock n Roll called "Charming."

Please take a listen.  We'll be putting up more music as the DATs become available.

Thanks everyone!

John P.

Here's the link.

Plus, here's a place to download a free needle-drop of my pre-Felt Pilotes band, Smile.  Our first and only official release.  Might as well mention that next year I'll begin work on a book-length comics version of the history of Smile...  just waiting for the accolades over Raina Telgemeier's book to slow down!

HEE HAW: The Art of PATRICK PORTER

"My brain feels like a saxophone; it's all downhill from here..." 

-- Patrick Porter

Some of you who know me well, or who have been following my online chattering for awhile, will have heard me go on and on about my friend Partick Porter.  Patrick is an artist-- writing novels and poetry, painting, and making music.  In this post, I wanted to share some of Patrick's art with you, cuz it's some of my favorite stuff ever.

I met Patrick sometime in 1993 or so, when he was 15 years old.  I was at Wax Trax one day (legendary Denver underground nexus), and picked up a copy of his zine, Our Comics Suck.  In it he expressed his wishes to buy an old Fender guitar, and I had a Duo-Sonic that I never used anymore, so I wrote him a letter telling him about it.

A few days later Patrick came over to my apartment to look at the guitar.  It was a piece of junk, to tell the truth.  It'd been stripped and "refinished" with a sticky, gloppy dark brown stain, and the neck was jerryrigged onto the body with ugly bolts.  Didn't sound too good either.  But it was cheap.  Patrick agreed to buy the guitar for $125 (a rip-off, looking back), but he only had $75 on him.  I took the money and said pay me the rest when you can.

(You can read another version of this event in the story "Lost and Found," in King-Cat Classix.)

Turns out Patrick loved that guitar, and used it in his band Neglected Lawn, up in Bailey, in the mountains, where he lived.  But he never got back to me with the remaining payment.  I kind of figured he never would, but then one day that fall he called me up and said he was in town, and he had the money.

I drove down to DU and he came out of the apartment, with, no shit, a plastic bag with $50 in change in it.  Pennies and everything.  That's when I knew I was dealing with a special person.

Years passed.  Patrick learned jazz guitar, and began making his own music.  I moved back to Chicago, Patrick shifted all over the country.  We had some kind of weird bond, and many 2 AM phone calls ensued.  We became really good friends.  I never had one in real life, but in many ways Patrick is the closest thing I've ever had to a brother.

The stuff Patrick makes is messy and brilliant, and deeply beautiful and sad, to me.  His music is some of my favorite music in the world.  One day Patrick decided to start painting, and lo and behold he was good at that too.  He likes to paint because he doesn't know how. 

Over the years his music has grown from funny punk noise to hushed shoegazery pop, to his current style, which is a splattery mix of crazy/delicate singing, smart lyrics, trashcan/luminous guitar, drums, piano, reverb, and haunting beauty.  Real beauty, like looking out at the real world.  Even before Patrick started making canvases, I felt like his songs were paintings.  They have that feel to me.  People looking for the latest "indie rock" car commercial are going to be confused and knocked back by this kind of thing.  It's real art by a real artist.

Without going into details, Patrick has lived an oftentimes rough life.  Of all my many poor friends, Patrick is the only one who, to my knowledge, has ever spent nights on park benches.  To me this is a crime.  But that's America™ for you, right?

I'm including here some videos, images, and poems, plus links where you can find more of his work.  I hope you enjoy it.

--John P.

Patrick Porter Wikipedia entry

* * *

MUSIC

Patrick has released over ten full length albums, on various small labels.  His 2007 recording, A Swan at Smiley's, is, I think, a masterpiece.  His latest album, the achingly warm, crazy, and funny Bachelor Pad Blue; Bent Pants and Stray Cats, has not yet been "officially" released, but is available for download from bandcamp.com.

For studio versions of his songs, please visit:
Patrick's Bandcamp site
Myspace site with art and music
More unruly songs

Recommended tracks for first time listeners:
"Bond Funeral Home"
"Wait For Another"
"Hee Haw"
"Feed From a Holy Lite"
"Fogelburg"
"Hollywood is a Word on a Wall"


Video for "Wait for Another," from A Swan at Smiley's:


"When The Summer's On" live in NYC


Patrick Porter Plays "Hee Haw" Live Behind The TV Set:

* * *

ART

Coconut Soop (2007)

Ten Million Mules (2008)

Freeway (2008)

Band (2009)

Quiet Girl (2009)

Schdy 1 (2009)

Video: Patrick Porter Paints Live From His Horse Pillow:


Video: Patrick Porter-- District Attorney Painting, In Progress:



Patrick's etsy shop

* * *

POETRY

Just a few short samples:

OCEAN

my house
is in
the
middle
of the
ocean

i open
doors
and the
waves
push me
through

i have
to walk
with
conviction

from
crag to
crag

the
water
is warm
milk
white



MINER

I spend
My time

Mining
Diamonds

From
Atop

A floral
Mattress

I eat
Raw glass

And widen
My eyes

I mine
Diamonds

In my
Own
Likeness



HOME

I have
To
Talk
Backwards

Just
To make
Sense

I have
To
Walk
Backwards

Just
To get
Home


Patrick's blog

HOW I LEARNED TO STOP WORRYING AND LOVE THE SMITHS

Back when I was in High School, my friend Fred and I had this bizarre rule that we only listened to "American" music.  That is, the music of the American Underground scene at the time-- bands like REM, Hüsker Dü, the Replacements, Black Flag, and so on.  The only allowable exception, somehow, was the Sex Pistols.  Hey--  we were young--  and bands like REM had a distinctly "American" flavor to them that we couldn't quite put our finger on, but wanted to support.  (The truth is, I have no real excuses!)

When I went off to college, in the fall of 1986, REM was on tour in support of their Lifes Rich Pageant album.  A few days before we left for college, Fred and I saw them at the UIC Pavilion (Fred had tried to pawn his HS class ring to get money for tickets, but no go).

Then, it was announced that REM would play a show in DeKalb of all places, where we went to school, with Camper Van Beethoven opening.  This was unbelievable!  In my naïveté, I thought "This must be what college is like!"

John Lyons and I slept out for tickets, along with a decent sized crowd, out on the sidewalk in front of the Chick Evans Field House.  This guy we had recently met, known only to us as "Terry the Skater," was there too, and had brought a boombox along.

Early in the evening, he put in a tape.  "What is this stuff?" I asked.  He said, "The Smiths-- The Queen is Dead."  I probably rolled my eyes.  The Smiths were "mopes" that only the girls liked.  Plus:  English.  The truth is I'd never heard them before.

When the album was done, Terry started it all over again at the beginning.  I must have been subjected to that record at least a half a dozen times that night...  he just played it over and over and over...

My consternation gradually turned to acceptance, and then--  I actually started listening.  Suddenly it started sinking in.  I remember it was "Frankly Mr Shankly":  "You are a flatulent pain in the ass," and "I didn't know you wrote such bloody awful poetry!"  Melodic and wry, with a beautiful, loping acoustic-based rhythm behind it.

Afterwards, I told my friend Anne about this.  She was a hardcore Smiths fan, and quickly loaned me her cassette of Louder Than Bombs.  I listened to it nonstop for weeks--  I was hooked.  The next year Strangeways, Here We Come was released, and I saw the video for "Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before" on 120 Minutes.  I was officially a Smiths fan.  (It helped that my poor heart was broken at the time.)

Looking back, you really have to wonder if the Smiths were the greatest band of the 1980's.  Who else is there?  The only ones that come close (to me) are REM and the Buttholes.  And as great as they were, the Buttholes were in a different category altogether.  REM is a close second, but, in my opinion, they kind of petered out towards the decade's end.

The Smiths were one of those gestalt bands, where the unique combination of players, time, and vibe transcended the individual parts.  Johnny Marr is an amazing guitarist, Morrissey is an amazing lyricist and singer, but together they're really something else.  Mike Joyce and Andy Rourke tend to be forgotten, or given short shrift critically (and, apparently, financially), but they were the perfect dynamo that set the stage for everything else.

For a musician with no "flash," Marr must be the greatest guitarist in post-punk history.  His ability to weave complex but nuanced layers through a song is untouched.  And Morrissey--  I can't really think of a more interesting, literate lyricist in all of rock and roll, except maybe Becker and Fagan*, but Morrissey's passion and risk-taking beats out the Dan's ironic cool any day.

I'm not gonna convert anyone with these poorly thunk lines, I know...  Is there any other band of the Smiths' ilk that is so divisive?  All I'm saying is that this music is absolutely smart, vital, and timeless, with hardly a missed note or blown opportunity to be found.  Pretty impressive.

* * *

(As for the REM concert...  it was great.  During CVB's opening set, all the frat boys in the front row stood and gave them the finger the entire time.  Payback from the band came in the form of a 20 minute version of "Interstellar Overdrive."  And for REM's encore, Jonathan Segal came out in a witch's hat, and played violin on "Feeling Gravity's Pull."  Amazingly, a bunch of footage from this actual show is up on YouTube.  It really was a Golden Age.)

* * *

*(We shall leave Maestro Dylan up there on his throne where he belongs...)