Stiff Sheet
Archived
Swish
Super Max
Instant Mayhem
Not long ago, I came across Don Fleming on the same label and was just captivated by it. When I saw this release up at the SLUG office, I just had to check it out to see if this little company has some consistency. The vote? Okay, yeah, so far, consistently good releases. The first track would be quite a push as a radio release, would be one of the few things on the air worth listening to. But it’s the second track that starts the correlation with the sound explorations and simplistic approaches of Fleming’s work, but there’s a little more tightness. And hell, I guess I got to say it, I’m a sucker for female vocals that come off sounding like an innocent/not-so-innocent little school girl, almost Nico-esque. Kluass, my god, can you really get a sexier sounding voice than that on any other track, a little like old Siouxsie but a hell of a lot better. It’s droning, occasionally punctuated by a high-pitch squeal and then supplemented with a gruff, Kathleen Turner grunt. Elizabeth Frazier, Bilinda Butcher, Beth Thompson, and dare I say it, Bjork, take a breather. I could live on this alone, this just beats you all, hands up, hands down, hands anywhere. It’s not for everyone, no dance music on it, no party music on it, no pumped up angst, just good dwellings to sit through and really get into. If Gianni doesn’t put this on the Stiff Sheet for me, then it’s because of some in-house politics game, and a holy jihad will result to right the situation. —JAND
Ian Brennan
Cheapskate
Toy Gun Murder Records
Like a stray bullet from random street violence, the CD will tag you right in the head and stay there. Many of their lyrics remind me of J.D. Salinger stories: simple people struggling with seemingly normal problems but losing it (and maybe their minds) in the end. Nothing is too complex, just straightforward rock and roll, but with a twist of honesty that hits home in the end. The Brennan family makes up most of the sound that can be heard in any neighborhood basement or garage around town. Neither too spectacular or outstanding, they play convincing and original bar music. Their words, however, come across like a vision of truth about the little problems that plague us all. Loneliness, depression, co-dependency and anger all rear their ugly heads alongside some occasional guitar solos that will set you back in your seat reeling. When it seems every new band is trying to push some six-string heavy retro-punk sound, Ian Brennan decides to take their time and go for the headshot, making their statement with the least possible effort but biggest effect in the end. —Billy Fish
Spacemen 3
The Singles
Taang Records
I first heard of this band when I was sixteen, and even then their records were incredibly hard to find. So thank you to Taang for rereleasing them so I can finally have “Dreamweapon” on CD. Boys, girls, circus animals: this band is all about taking drugs and zoning out. In my opinion, they are one of the best bands to have ever graced the Earth. They take minimalism to a single note that repeats for over sixty minutes. And through it all, never a dull moment, constant tension and no release. It’s a beautiful thing. Spacemen 3 were never bad, but they never got as good as they could have. This record is made up of various singles, none of them ever destined for any type of radio airplay. It is a good sampling of what they can do, but it is by no means their greatest accomplishments. As for its standalone basis, I still say this record kicks like Cobain’s little shotgun habit. —Sausage King
Butthole Surfers
Electriclarryland
Capitol
I’m sure you all remember the 12-inch featuring starving third-world bellies on the cover and the classic “The Shah Sleeps in Lee Harvey’s Grave” in the grooves. Gibby, the poor guy, tried to sell out with P. That CD will turn up as a question in a trivia game of the future. It missed the “alternative” market that Hootie, Blues Traveler, and the Dave Matthews Band captured. Homogeneous is homogeneous, isn’t it? Forgive me.
The thing opens with “Birds” and Gibby’s maniacal laughter. Gibby, why don’t you go build a fire or something? The CD is commercial as hell. Next thing you know, it will be on the radio and MTV. I think the hit single is “Cough Syrup,” an ode to Robitussin addicts everywhere. Some guy Paul Leary produced the mess. The next song, “Pepper,” has raps, samples and martial drumming. Have they gone trip hop? A combination of U2 and Tricky? That, my children, is the MTV video. The buttholes are from Austin, so they’ve jumped on the latest “trend” – feedback-drenched rockabilly/garage with “Ulcer Breakfast.” The ballad is “Jingle of a Dog’s Collar,” complete with nods to the lounge. Is there a trend they haven’t copied – or invented? Country swag? “TV Star” is it. I threw up when I listened to “My Brother’s Wife.” Too much peyote, I guess. “Ah Ha” reinvents the Sex Pistols. The disc is uneven. There isn’t a solid thematic or musical topic anywhere to be found. In other words, it is a typical Butthole Surfers record. Sorry to interrupt. I’ll let you get back to Bogman now. “A thumb up her ass and a needle in her eye, a girl from out West with a needle in her eye and dope up her ass.” Are you guys crazy? The Butthole Surfers will appear live and in person at the sewer they call a tourist attraction on June 24. —Wa
Pharaoh Sanders
Message From Home
Verve
This is another attempt to fuck things up. Since the fucker won’t print country, blues and folk shit, let’s see if he prints jazz. He is after all a Coltrane disciple, and I do believe the cat on sax had some involvement with the late John. Bill Laswell produced. The album isn’t an exercise in free-form squawking. Sanders engages in some, but for the most part, his playing is lyrical. Laswell brings along some friends, as he usually does, but they don’t interfere. In case the experimental nature of his work, or for that matter the Sanders name, is found to be inaccessible, go to a store and have a listen. The home in the title is the world. “Nozipho” is nearly ambient enough for new age. The squawking sax would cause discomfort for most of that crowd. Salsa is big locally. “Tomoki” has the rhythm and Sanders. Man, can this cat blow! “Ocean” is the “contemporary,” “instrumental” hit. Wait until they take it home! Shock, surprise, surprise. “Kumba” takes the trip to the Middle East. “Country Mile” closes it out with a gospel beginning, juju guitars and the man himself getting completely free. Jazz is back folks, and it ain’t all about Kenny G. This is a motherfucker of an album. —Lonnie “Lisping” Jones
