The Stiff Sheet: March 1997

Vallejo
TVT 

I believe that Vallejo was a last minute addition to the X-96 Lowest Expectations show. Good reports came back from the few who viewed them, even though most had no idea what their name was. I doubt that Vallejo was given the opportunity to stretch out and jam at their Saltair appearance. The word is that they will return to do so during the summer. Jam bands usually suck, unless they have managed to ground themselves in funk fundamentals. Vallejo brings their funk fundamentals to the tired hippie format — Rusted Root with about 500% more talent. 

A debut album of hippie-jamming-funk-reggae from a group of boys who haven’t lost sight of their rockin’ side. Call them the professors in an ongoing attempt to incorporate disparate elements from all pop music expressions and create the most amazing disc imaginable. American music stirred, blended, mixed, baked and fried to the point of incomprehensible recognizability before being served as a meal. The album is so goddamned hippie that I thought I was listening to Buddy Miles, Buddy Guy, Sonny Boy Williamson, Frank Zappa, Greg Allman, Bob Marley, Santana and George Clinton all together. Kiss and wash the feet of Vallejo after they’ve proved that the Allman Brothers, Dave Matthews, Phish and the Grateful Dead (fuck, I’m dead now) are/were poseurs on the planet jam. Salt Lake City bands interested in funk and jam, listen and learn how it should be done. Vallejo is so funky jammin’ that Blues Traveler will quit the ’97 Horde Tour after their first set. X-96 will never play it, they’ve decided that the ragtime of the Squirrel Nut Zippers is “alternative to what?” Music perhaps? –Phil Lush 

The Revelators
We Told You Not To Cross Us
Crypt Records

This review is dedicated to Christian Aria. He wrote a letter to SLUG which stated that punk had died over a decade ago. The Revelators are a wilder version of the local Ducky Boys. I believe the Duckys need to head in this direction. We Told You Not To Cross Us opens with “Ain’t Got A Woman,” a cover of a Sonny Burgess song, and they don’t stop to look back. Oh shit – Sonny Burgess is a still living rockabilly cat. Sorry Christian, but when a rockabilly tune is played by punks dressed in straw cowboy hats and brand new, never-washed, shrink-to-fit 501 Levis, it ceases to be rockabilly. Actually it ceases to be anything except trashy punk rock. And what is punk rock after all, except trash? When speaking of punk rock, the best way to fashion an inspired album is to record the thing without a budget, in about eight hours and forget the production. 

Link Wray wasn’t punk either. He was just a pissed off guy who poked holes in his amplifier speakers with a ballpoint pen. The Revelators think Link for one song. Billy Boy Arnold by way of the Yardbirds makes an appearance too so I guess this is one of those new-fangled bands playing punk blues. Any band writing a song with lyrics about being a potted plant and a poltergeist has something up their sleeve, in their arm, up their nose or poured down their throat. “Don’t look at me when I’m looking at you.” Crazy motherfuckers. Any band turning “Hillbilly Wolf” into an alarming celebration of auditory dissension is deserving of much respect. Who put the Bendazrine in the Ovaltine, anyway? –Reverend Gory Davees 

Morcheeba
Who Can You Trust
Discovery

The last thing I need is more cheeba, which doesn’t mean more chiva. See, cheeba makes your head all stupid and shit and chiva makes you steal, get AIDS and die. So I stole some cheeba from a neighbor and it was of the chronic variety and then I had a session with Morcheeba. Tricky is all the shit, and DJ Shadow has overshadowed the talents of DJ Spooky – and Cibo Mato has overshadowed them all, even as Björk makes an attempt to resell her last album in a remixed version. Luscious Jackson has me tripping out to Morcheeba as I listen to the real deal on the stereo system while I’m scanning the crates for something more on the edge to hear. 

So I’m all mellow now and I’m cruisin’ the high – know what I’m sayin’, like I’m spaced and trippin’ on the vibe and I’m thinkin’, ya know, like this Morcheeba CD is, like, da bomb or something like that. The shit is all mellow and Skye Edwards, “all vocals,” has put me in the most peaceful frame of mind. I’m thinking that peace is where it’s at, and maybe like I should stop bathing and get me some dreadlocks and reggae music, and be like Bob Marley and die from a cancerous tumor in my brain from smoking too much cheeba and shit and then I hear the def beats and the mellow, mellow shit coming from my speakers. Now, if you are indeed a hippy dippy sort of dude, or if you are searching for the perfect record to chill your ass then maybe Morcheeba is awaiting your discovery – like the label ya know dude? Up near the top of my picks for the next year – no bullshit there and I ain’t clowning ya motherfucker. Did you like Portishead? Morcheeba one upped those acts and it came out in ’96. ‘Bout time to find the shit in ’97, brotha. –Helene “Curtis” Woof-Woof 

Junior Kimbrough
Most Things Haven’t Worked Out
Fat Possum/Capricorn 

Fat Possum will soon end their relationship with Capricorn Records, a situation saddening numerous Capricorn employees. There are a few titles awaiting release before Epitaph takes over distribution chores. This title is one of them. Take about five or six Xanax tablets before listening, Quaaludes work even better, but they are more difficult to obtain. Wait, just forget it. The music will inspire a hypnotic trance without chemicals. The man is obsessed with sex and naked women. How many times has he asked the female of the species to take her clothes off because he wants to make love to her? “I’m In Love” is a song about fucking. The last press release I saw said that Junior had 22 children from seven different women. Junior likes to fuck and he writes a lot of songs about the act, but he is also concerned for his soul. That’s why he has a song titled “Burn In Hell” on his forthcoming album. He also has a problem with other men messing around with his women. “Leave Her Alone” addresses that topic.

 A man with many women always needs a way to say goodbye. Junior does so with a song. “I’m leaving you baby, I’m leavin’ you baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry right now, Oh good night” are the lyrics to “I’m Leaving You Baby.” “Most Things Haven’t Worked Out” is instrumental hypnosis. So is “I Love You Baby,” except Kimbrough utters, “What’s wrong with you?” about twice. 

Why is a man with lyrics consisting of no more than ten or fifteen words, a man who basically plays drones on the guitar, a man who plays those drones for an average of six minutes per song so worshipped and praised by those with the good sense to purchase his music? Go buy a copy of Most Things Haven’t Worked Out and learn. –Blues Boy Billie

Read more of The Stiff Sheet from the SLUG archives:
The Stiff Sheet: August 1996
The Stiff Sheet: March 1996

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