There’s something about the former Axis powers post-WWII that developed some of the strangest, most visionary, and most divergent music some three decades afterward. Both Germany and Japan were largely responsible for the music of the 70s and 80s that came out of nowhere and sounded like absolutely nothing else – everything from Kraftwerk to Merzbow. All of it is still as important and relevant today (perhaps even more so).

De Stijl Records dusts off and uncovers one such group out of late 70s/early 80s Hanover — 39 Clocks. While their timeline coincides with New York’s no wave movement, their Deutsche no wave is something else entirely. Amalgamating the dadaist cool and nervous energy of Suicide, their homeland’s motorik rhythm, the loud and detuned psychedelics of Spacemen 3 (whom 39 Clocks actually predate), the organ-as-diving-rod experimental pop ethos of Silver Apples, and a Nuggets-ready proto-punk punch, the mensch of 39 Clocks chew up kraut and psychedelic subsets and spit them out into a ball of drug-riddled prophecy and rock and roll shenanigans.

And like Suicide, who may still remain most infamous for the riot they provoked during 43 Minutes Over Brussels, 39 Clocks also enjoyed stirring trouble and inconvenience. De Stijl writes: “The first public appearance pairing Christian Henjes and Juergen Gleue was in 1976, at the Dada Nova (a space occupied by Otto Mühl’s AAO commune) in midtown Hannover, Germany. Dada Nova would be a space of enduring clash. From the subtlety of a shat upon organ to the ejection from communal meetings by bodily force, the AAO would display that the presence of the 39 Clocks was one of their constant grief. Known for pranksterism and the destruction of the clubs in which they would perform, friction in every form would continually follow the band. They created an outrage (they wrote a tune with the title “Art Minus Idiots”) at the Filmtage Hannover with their avant-garde Super 8 movies made under the disguise of director Zachius Lipschitz. Rumour claims that at a Hannover show at the Cafe Glocksee, they played the vacuum cleaner and a circular saw instead of guitars, and there was even a knife throwing incident in Bremen.” It’s hard to say whether 39 Clocks were going for legnedary status or if they just didn’t give a shit, but at least they wear their sense of humor on their sleeves. What, with song titles such as “Shake the Hippie” and “You Can’t Count the Bombs (It’s Zero),” you’d kinda have to be funny.

Antics aside, the 18 tracks on Zoned, an anthology of various releases between 1981 and 1987, are solid and, in my eyes, a total achievement. 39 Clocks perfected a no wave style sound they were far removed from while developing an original reiterpretation of ’60s garage rock and created a facet of neo psych rock that was about a decade ahead of its English counterpart in the shoegaze and Jason Pierce circles. But their cheif export is pure aural insanity. This is too fresh to be 23-30 years old. De Stijl really found a gem with 39 Clocks, and the remastered Zoned is a must have for any fan of mind expanding music.

Zoned is available now from De Stijl.

For fans of:  Spacemen 3, Can, Suicide, Silver Apples

MP3 :::
39 Clocks – Psycho Beat
39 Clocks – Dom (Electricity Elects the Rain)

I shot a message over to Fat Bobby shortly before Preteen Weaponry, part one of the Thank Your Parents long player series, dropped in August with a couple of fun questions.  He got back to me to January.  What he loses in punctuality, he makes up for in dedication.  My questions were goofy, and the responses were equally so.

Bobby felt bad about the delay, writing “no worries if it’s way too late to post, and I agree about me being a fucking unreliable bastard…but in my defense, I haven’t answered anyone else’s questions, at least not meaningfully, so I hope you can take my delay as just the odd gearings of a fucked up clock.”  Part two in the series, Rated O, has been pushed back to a summer release date, but in the meantime, enjoy picking the brain of 1/3 of Oneida… 

KB: Let’s talk about the three-album jam canon Thank Your Parents.  What can we expect with the next two releases, sonically or otherwise?  We know that it has Fat Bobby’s Personal Guarantee of Quality.

FB: Ha – my guarantee is so shopworn.  Every time I tell people about good music, guaranteed, they come back to me with that look on their face that can only be described as quizzical.  It’s like that, but a little more hatin’.  I don’t know, I came to grips over the past couple years with the fact that I’m probably damaged or enlightened or “special” or a combo – what I like doesn’t track with what you like, although we probably both like mostly the same things and everyone seems to have excellent taste.  At least you, I, and most people like Fleetwood Mac, so we can chill together when it all comes down. Anyway, Rated O (next one) is divided into different things. It’s three discs – but each one is just juice, in a different flavor.  No ice, no bones – just juice. Different flavors. Lots of bass, treble, midrange – allllllllll the frequencies represent. Sorry, this sounds like a drunk man’s email, or maybe that of a man on drugs, but I’m actually just riffing in my brain.  Anyway again, the third component of thanking our parents will be one deep thing. There are discussions now about which thing, but it will be deep.

KB: “Preteen Weaponry (Part1)” has some serious jazz hands about the percussion.  I’ve always admired the many, and often disparate, influences you all seem to have.  What’s been rocking your world lately?

FB: Despite your use of the word jazz, I’ll answer your question. Kid [Millions] is going to be really pissed when he sees that, though.  By the way, I don’t think our influences are anything different from anyone else’s influences – sometimes we’re “influenced” by just one thing, sometimes by a combination, and sometimes just by a tv episode or a Family Circus comic, and every band is pretty much the same as that, give or take.  So it’s not about our profound influences or excellent taste, it’s just that we’re a really good fucking band.  Anyway (again, that word), I’m going over to my stereo and I’ll list the first 15 records I have out next to the turntable, no faking:

Genius of Charile Parker vol 1 (ohhh, so busted)
War: first album
Upsetters: Clint Eastwood
Felt: Crumbling the Antiseptic Beauty (this is REALLY GOOD!!!!!)
The Band- self titled
Neil Diamond: Shilo
Nina Simone: Nina’s Choice
Nina Simone Sings the Blues
Modern Lovers: Modern Lovers
Arlene Smith and the Chantels – box set
Flamingos: Serenade
Paper Lace: self titled
Dr. West’s medicine show: the Eggplant that ate Chicago
Trio: Trio and Error (my favorite album since 7th grade, by the way, and
if anything’s an infuence it’s that.)
Ohio Express: yummy yummy/down at lulu’s (and that.)

KB: One of my favorite Oneida moments was when you all and Liars duked it out proper on Atheists, Reconsider.  Would you consider doing something like that again, either with another band or Liars again (which would sorta be like a different band considering the state of things in ‘03)?

FB: Yes.  I think Liars, like us, Prince, and the original Funkadelic lineup, gets a free pass on anyone judging us.  It would be fun to do this with any band I like. The Band would be awesome, or maybe someone from Texas, or Liars again.

KB: I always find it fun to guess what kind of pedals, equipment, and samplers you all use to create those ultra thick tones.  What’s some of your go-to gear?

FB: Personally, I use an Ace Tone organ live and on a lot of recordings – extremely percussive and solidly constructed Japanese organ action. Music Man and Traynor amps are heavily used in our band.  But really, what gear a band uses is irrelevant.  Samplers, though – please, we’re an
anachronistic white blues band, we don’t do that kind of thing (because of fear and incompetence, not ideology – except we have a really, really good drummer and some other skills).  Wait, did I just qualify what I meant to say straight?  Good bands just fucking shred, on sitars or hurlothrumbos or samplers or software, whatever their jam is.  Yeah, I said jam.  Email
your fucking complaints: [mailto:mayor@cityofboston.gov]

KB: Your label, Brah, which has a decidedly excellent name I might add, has a pretty choice discography.  Will that continue as a vehicle for Oneida, its side projects, friends, et al. or do you plan on expanding it further?

FB: Brah is just here to rock out and dance up a storm and party in general.  We like to follow a policy of not making bold claims, except when we feel like it, and I can’t say I’m feeling it – except that Brah is here for general awesome purposes, and the things that are on Brah are pretty awesome.  Other than that, it’s just a thing that you can check out and make up your own mind about, or compile blog mentions on, or even send a postcard to:

Oneida
112 Ardale St
Roslindale MA 02131

Also, I listen to every demo you send, and we won’t release it on Brah, but it still rules to get random music that’s usually actually pretty good (and better than whatever the dipshits are into).  Much love.  By the way, last comment:  MS word is all putting red lines under blog and dipshits and brah.  That’s pretty.

I’m a total asshole for popping the “influences” question.  My journalism degree taught me nothing except how to master MS Word myself.

MP3 :::
Oneida – The Adversary

Tomorrow, Deerhunter’s monolithic double disc Microcastle/Weird Era Cont. drops courtesy of Kranky or 4AD, depending on where you live. Yes, it leaked, and we all greedily took. We all witnessed the Lord of the Flies-esque free-for-all, and the subsequent fallout from the blog debacle – in addition to the rueful behavior of the fallible, sinful collective of scalawags and pirates known as your peers and neighbors. And after the dust settled, we all found out that Deerhunter had recorded an incredible collection of music.

So don’t be a jerk, go buy it tomorrow. I’m for serious. I’ll be purchasing it, making good on my word back when the album(s) leaked. Also, for next Tuesday, go vote. It’s your civic duty. And lest we forget that in four Tuesdays, you need to pick up the new GnR concept album about riding bikes and how rad Times New Roman font is, as well as the subsequent free can of Doc Pepper. I’m getting two free Dr. Peppers since I agreed to braid Axl’s hair next time he’s in town. Snarf. So there, your Tuesdays are booked, bro. KTHNXBYE!

MP3 :::
Deerhunter – VHS Dream

I love the new self-titled album by Women. It’s currently available on the near flawless Jagjaguwar label, and since it’s based in Bloomington, serves as possibly the only really awesome thing about Indiana. As you can see, Women is (presumably) four dudes. Sausage fest!

I was introduced to Women (that sounds so odd) by a fellow Tiny Mix Tapes writer who proclaimed that Women is prefect for anyone who “gets their dick up to Animal Collective.” I was certainly intrigued after that statement, especially since he said the word “dick.” And while I would concur that the Calgary band sometimes evokes the more menacing material on Here Comes the Indian and Danse Manitee, Women are by no means a knock-off. Whereas Animal Collective has always exuded a playfulness and childlike veneer, here be dragons within Women. The crescendo of the excellently titled “Lawncare” wants to pillage your village and breed with your women (pun intended, motherfucker).

I would also be somewhat remiss to not recognize the pretty spot-on review courtesy of Jagjaguwar’s one sheet: “Sometimes light and spacious, at other times eerie and dense with an ominous weight, this self titled album touches upon Velvet Underground, Swell Maps or This Heat while not really having any obvious precursors – a lo-fi masterpiece cloaked in layers of vibrato and guitar wash.” That’s certainly true, as Women adopt the traditional instrumentation of gritty garage punk and stretch its potential across ’60s Nuggets-ready psychedelia, early ’80s no wave, and contemporary, slightly-askew pop peppered with noise flourishes. You also get a heavy-dose of the elusive hummable anthem with “Black Rice,” Fahey-esque guitar noodling on “Sag Harbor Blues,” and a nihilistic Madchester zeitgeist-meets Boredoms thirsty on bloodlust hodgepodge on “Shaking Hands.” The insanity and panning production on “January 8th” attacks your brain with holy water sprinklers. January 8th, as a fun fact, is David Bowie’s birthday. Women’s “January 8th” sounds nothing like David Bowie.

Despite the fact that I always applaud creativity, I do wish Women named themselves something… less awkward. For example, if I would to name drop Women in a conversation, it might go like this:

Dude A: “Yo Bloggins, I respect your opinion on music and culture so much cuz you’re the smartest bro I know, Quasibroto. So I just gotsta know what you’ve been jammin’ on lately. I’ve been feelin’ that new Hold Steady jam hive. Daaamn, makes me feel like gettin’ my drank on, lol. What chu been in to?”
Kenny: “Besides the new Lindsey Buckingham and my daily regiment of mid-’70s light rock and pop standards?”
Dude A: “Well, yeah.”
Kenny: “I’ve really been into women.”
Dude A: “… um, RIGHT ON, BROSEPH!”
Kenny: “omg, I know, right”

And then it’s mega weird for a while.

So if you enjoy these MP3s, maybe you should czech them out live this fall, or perhaps pick up the album. The whole thing’s good – strong like bear, mean like wolf.

MP3 :::
Women – Lawncare
Women – Black Rice
Women – January 8th
Women – Flashlights

The photo above is Kenny Bloggins doing his angry Michael Gira face, exhibited with the gatefold spread of the Can’t Find My Way Home 12″ by Swans. I love this single. It was a going-away gift from punk rock historian Uncle Bill Widener when I moved to Chicago. I like to crank it when I take my relaxation bubble bath, complemented by only the finest sacred oils and incense imported from India. This, among other reasons, inspired a little write-up on Swans.

First, boo’s been into reading rock biographies as of late. In the past month, she’s read memiors by Beatle wives Pattie Boyd and Cynthia Lennon, Clapton by Eric Clapton (not joking about the title), and Everyone’s Fucking: The Fleetwood Mac Story (okay, I am joking about that one). Now she’s in the middle of the new Sonic Youth biography, Goodbye 20th Century by David Browne, which she says is excellent. The first half of the book details Thurston Moore’s relationship(s) with experimental/no-wave luminaries in the New York area, Michael Gira in particular. She was excited to discuss with me all the reasons why Michael Gira, at least at the dawn of the ’80s, was pretty much a doo-doo head, albeit an intriguing one. Secondly, Swans is not recognized nearly enough for being a premiere shoegaze band, and as such, I wish to entertain an argument for this premise. And thirdly, M. Gira’s playing a show this evening in NYC for five binks. All these reasons seemed poignant enough to me to write an entry, so let’s begin, shall we?

Alright, so Michael Gira… not exactly a nice dude. Liked to throw chairs. Liked to administer beatdowns. Liked to drop storefront windows when on an evening stroll. Probably had a portrait of Marquis de Sade above his bed. Liked to act like a general bastard. Say what you will (or what Browne did in the book), Gira remains one of the most remarkably innovative artists of the No Wave era, and arguably, any era. Constantly evolving, keepin’ it loosey goosey (get it? goose? swan? el oh el), and never settling for complacency, Gira is to be respected and feared like the Old Testament God, not liked.

The legacy of Swans, for whatever reason, seems to be entirely encapsulated by their early years. In some ways, I suppose those years are the most sensational, so that can’t be unexpected. Swans started out, and is remembered by many, as an industrial prototype band – a grating, hedonistic, murky, violent outfit inspired by Throbbing Gristle, Suicide, and the Birthday Party (and louder than all three combined). The infamous Suicide show 23 Minutes Over Brussels ended in a riot. A whole lot of Swans shows ended in the same fashion. Skip to the part in this interview where Gira discusses the “Nitsch Performance.” Four to six hours of radness.

Swans are still constantly compared to noise and no wave groups on All Music and similar music data banks, despite the fact that Swans evolved a lot over the ’80s. By the early ’90s, Swans were completely unrecognizable. In part, such a trajectory can be traced to the moment when the mystic Jarboe rolled through and mellowed their shit out. However, it’s also obvious that Gira likes a wide variety of music, and opted to tweak the output of Swans to match what was most sonically interesting to him at any particular moment. Gira loved to experiment: “I used to make tape loops of grinding metal, a baby crying, slowed down, low-frequency synth noise, distorted screams, etc., and I’d put, say, a half-hour of each of these loops on its own cassette. Then, in the rehearsal space I had on 6th Street in NYC, I’d give each cassette its own tape player and hook each tape player up to its own SVT bass set-up, with the amps arranged in a circle, pointing inward, and I’d play the tapes at full volume, with me standing in the middle of it as the loops bombarded me.”

Which brings us to my favorite Swans album, The Great Annihilator. This is a shoegaze album, for all intents and purposes. Sure, there are traces of classic Swans in tracks like “I Am the Sun,” but swirly guitars, melodic vocal chants, seductive and silky textures – all that shoegazey shit – saturate the vast majority of Swans 12th proper release. “Warm,” for my money, is the apex of The Great Annihilator, and the reason why I get annoyed when Swans are packaged simply as a batshit crazy no wave group. I mean, they were, but only for a few years.

The mercurial Gira kept busy post-Swans, forming the excellent freak and psych folk collective The Angels of Light (who are renowned for amazing album covers as well). I’m including, for your consideration, “Song For Nico” from How I Loved You. Gira keeps his eyes on the folk prize with his label Young God Records, and probably goes camping with Devendra. So to bring the point back home again, labeling Gira or Swans as a particular ideal is quite short-sighted. I mean, dude went from a deadpan nihilist who liked to cover himself in animal blood to the friendly cowboy next door who refers to people as “folks.”

Gira’s not the only one who made a 360. Swans drummer Jonathan Kane released a swampy electric blues album three years ago titled February. I saw him open for guitar orchestra conductor Rhys Chatham. Despite how awesome it was to meet Kane, and how friendly and courteous he was, his meandering blues canticles are akin to a quote from James Ingram in Yacht Rock #11: “mellow, but not smooth… kinda shitty.” Still, such a startling change is exciting to see in music, considering that stagnation tends to be the modus operandi.

Anyway, back to Gira and his cowboy hats… you lucky New Yorkers (well, somewhat lucky… you dudes do pay, like what, $2500 a month to rent closet spaces) get to see Michael Gira play an intimate and informal last minute show at The Stone for only $5 USD, if you want it. The Arthur blog posted this message from Mr. G:

“Hello Folks, At the request of my old friend Jim Thirlwell, I’ll be playing a solo acoustic set for the final set of his month long programming of shows at The Stone in NYC Tuesday September 30 at 10 PM.

“My set will include 2 new songs (maybe a 3rd – I’m working on it), the Swans song ‘I Crawled’ from 1984 (ridiculous to play this song on acoustic guitar, but I think it works somehow) as well as various Angels of Light and other Swans songs.

I hope to see you there. In keeping with the informality of this show, I’ve asked that the admission be $5.”

I can’t go, being in a different time zone and all. So I’ll put on a Swans record or two and drop some windows instead. Sounds like a swell evening to me.

MP3 :::
Swans – Warm
The Angels of Light – Song For Nico

The Chicago by way of Texas no wave psych fright fest Indian Jewelry recently laid down a gross set on WFMU (still the best station on the planet) who posted the entire performance up on the Beware of the Blog. They played a pretty eclectic cross section of their catalog, including grooves off of their latest, excellent and surprisingly catchy record Free Gold, their previous, more sinister Inevasive Exotics, and some choice miscellany. My favorite live shows tend to gravitate toward quite different, but not unrecognizable, performances of the recorded material, and Indian Jewelry seem to pretty much feel the same way. The extended version of “Lost My Sight” is sexy like my tractor. Trenchant and nefarious – these dudes are prophets.

I had the privilege of seeing Indian Jewelry live in the fall of 2005 with sludge warriors Warmer Milks, and it was psychotic. The stage was ornate with intense strobe lights, billowing smoke, shawls, industrial sized aluminum foil, animal skulls, and the Lone Star State flag. Not for the faint of brain, Indian Jewelry steer the helm of a very ominous head trip. Worth seeing if you have the chance. I definitely recommend tryin’ to grip Free Gold, so hey, why not preview it here.

MP3 :::
Indian Jewelry – Live on WFMU