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The Dismemberment Plan - Emergency & I

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What interesting things can I tell you about this tasty treat?

Well, for starters the name “Dismemberment Plan” comes from an exquisite movie. More specifically, it rolls from the mouth of one of moviedom’s greatest supporting comedic characters: Ned Ryerson.

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Additionally, this is the only album that Pitchfork Media hasn’t completely fucked up rating.

It received a 9.6 out of 10 when originally released. This vinyl re-release, with its 4 extra songs, received a 10 out of 10. The initial 1999 review was also a very tidy 21 words. I would have preferred an even 20, but I’ll let it slide.

If you consider yourself a fan of groundbreaking pop, go out and buy this album right now. Now. Get up. Go. – Pitchfork Media, 1999

I’d quote the re-issue review but it doesn’t have any pictures…which means I got bored before finding a meaty blurb and gave up.

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Pictures: The only source of engaging entertainment.

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Finally, I have a vague memory of seeing The Dismemberment Plan at the Southgate House during their farewell tour in 2003. It was the summer before I could legally drink. I was a bright and bouncing baby boy.

Unfortunately I obliterated most of my memory cells were during my 21st birthday party. Because it was so huge. Biggest 21st birthday party ever. Strippers from all over the Tri-State.

(It was actually quite a sad affair…lots of Super Bust-A-Move 2 and chasing Piano Little. Please don’t tell anyone.)

ANYWAY, Despite that bitchin mind-erasing party, one thing stuck with me from that show. No, it wasn’t the catchy snare-snapping beats. No, it wasn’t Mr. Morrison’s double-reed vocals. It was a short and sweet quote…just short enough to remember without the aid a two-dimensional graphic.

Morrison looked around at those dancing in the ballroom–up A-Frame and myself in the balcony–and said, “Where were all of you when our first album came out?”

Like if we’d all been there this wouldn’t have been their farewell show but a sold-out international extravaganza that cured AIDS, or at least gave it to Bono. And it wouldn’t have been a converted mansion in Newport, Kentucky they were playing but Carnegie Hall…with Matchbox 20 and Aaliyah as openers.

Do you really want to know where I was? Do you really want to know, Mr. Morrison? Ok, I’ll tell you.

It was 1995, I was 12 and riding in my Mom’s Chevy Celebrity Eurosport wagon, probably on my way to some Boy Scout jamboree at the Mormon Cincinnati South Stake. Perhaps I was utilizing the Celebrity’s rear jump seats.

And I was undoubtedly listening to this:

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Or maybe I was looking for pair of Airwalks at Tri-County Mall, and this was playing on the Muzak:

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But if I’d been Lakota Kool I probably would have been listening to this:

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In any case it was 1995. If you’d asked me what Indie was I would have told you he’s a guy with a brown hat and a whip who hates Nazis.

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Click here to download Emergency & I (with bonus tracks) from vinyl to MP3

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Within potato cannon range of San Francisco lies a mysterious city called Oakland. I know very little about this sparsely inhabited wasteland. Mostly what I hear comes from the empty mouths of shrunken old women at BART stations. They tell stories I wouldn’t believe in dreams.

From their tales I’ve gathered a few key pieces of information. Supposedly the low-lying areas are inhabited by an athletic tribe of raiders that frequently demolishes the city in response to the cruel conditions within the fiefdom. This active rebellion generally blossoms at the Foot Locker, where frothing marauders flood the storefront until the collective appetite is whetted with fresh pairs of pillaged Jordans.

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The women tell me that when these maniacs aren’t stealing mad hops they generally snooze and laze the days away in a bubble of malevolent California heat. From time to time they escape this fever to San Francisco in canoes fashioned from discarded Street Sheet newspapers. While in the city they practice the traditional Oaklandish religious rite of taking frothy red shits at the top of the Embarcadero Station escalator.

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There are other stories of which I’ve only heard in passing:

That the premium pumps at Oakland gas stations dispense a blinding blend of bum wine for two pents a gallon.

That women were outlawed within the the city during the 1970’s. Any of the fairer sex who mistakenly stumble past the outer boundaries are quickly captured, bound with fine silk strands secreted from the Oaklandish male’s prostate, and fed live to chomping Oaklandish larvae.

And that the people of Oakland still use Myspace.

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Adorable.

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But there’s a part of me that thinks all of these stories are simply fabrications to keep us gullible San Frannies out of a hidden paradise. If Oakland is populated solely by a pillaging, all-male, insect-hybrid mob then how did such a phenomenal lady-birthed album emerge from its murky depths? Had those hollow-faced women lied to me all along? Who’s controlling these hyphens? Where are my car keys?!

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Could it be that just across the frigid bay lies a city filled with brilliant artistic promise? A city of unparalleled beauty and personal freedom? Where the sidewalks glow, not dissimilar to the fashion of Billy Jean? Where people don’t rock rollerblades, unicycles, and Segways while listening to Maroon 5 on stock iPod headphones like it’s no big deal…because believe me it’s a huge fucking deal?

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One of these days, when I’m feeling particularly brave, I will hop in my much neglected automobile and drive across the big gray bitch that is the Bay Bridge. I’ll shift into fifth, crest through the fog, and the powerfully angelic voice of Merrill Garbus will blast my soul like Moroni’s trumpet. Within the city limits I’ll be stopped by a gang of breathtaking eunuch crossing guards who’ll fetch my spirit’s fleshy temple from the drivers side and hoist its bobbing limbs sunward. The pleasure of knowing absolute sound–sound so pure you could drink it, piss it, and drink it again–will truly be mine. And I’ll all have a good cry.

Because that’s what you do when enjoying a really happy surprise.

You cry.

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Click here to peep perhaps the best album of the year. And then purchase a copy of your own because this is a keeper.

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It needs to be pointed out that some portion of this album was recorded in Dolores Park in San Francisco. Where this happened.

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The music video at the bottom of this post, which is one of the best I’ve ever seen, is NSFW. In response, here’s a scene-for-scene transcript for those morally handcuffed by a 9 to 5. Enjoy.

The cosmos is all there is,

or ever was,

or ever will be.

The cosmos is also within us,

we are made of stars.

We are about to begin a journey through the cosmos,

through the story of our own planet,

and the plants and animals that share it with us.

It’s a story about us.

We wish to pursue the truth

no matter where it leads.

But to find the truth we need

imagination and skepticism first.

We are going to explore the cosmos

in the ship of imagination.

Perfect as a snowflake,

light as a feather.

The ship will take us to the world of dreams,

and worlds of facts.

Come with me.

  1. Pablo Díaz-Reixa loads a Golden Cassette into a skeet shooter, which he then launches like a glittering canary into the sunlit future valley.
  2. The Golden Cassette ends its fancy-free flight abrubtly against an urban curb. It’s retrieved by a girl equally as golden and twice as nude. She gingerly inserts the Golden Cassette into a Golden Boombox.
  3. Pablo Díaz-Reixa records the sonic musings of a roadside bush.
  4. A mysterious man lifts an enormous rock.
  5. A young lady licks a forked tree branch against the sky.
  6. A dirtbike drives in circles around Pablo Díaz-Reixa while he records the buzz of its 2-stroke engine.
  7. A young lady leaps bottom-first into a supple sofa. Pablo Díaz-Reixa records the union of keister and cushion.
  8. A seated schoolgirl hoists her peach-colored skirt to expose today’s quiz written upon her bare thigh.
  9. A young woman faces away from the camera. With the thumb and index of her left hand she displays an eyeball to the audience.
  10. A leather-banded, topless brunette shoots an arrow with the aid of a simple bow.
  11. Two women in white lace dresses relax in the shallows of a calm lake.
  12. A woman with large glasses. A mirror reflecting Pablo Díaz-Reixa shatters. The woman’s glasses show a compound fracture in the left lens.
  13. A women removes her blouse in front of a cheap oil painting featuring tumultuous seas. She’s handed two sparklers and proceeds to shake vigorously.
  14. A showering, smoking explosion occurs two meters above the floor of a dark forest clearing.
  15. A man in a black shirt portages a bolt-action rifle at a sprint into the depths of a refreshing cement pool.
  16. Two men with gigantic fluorescent bulbs swing at one another, causing their bulbs to shatter in fantastic fashion.
  17. A crowd of technicolor peasants marches solemnly in X-formation across a desert.
  18. A young lady with red fingernails creates bubbles in a tall glass of milk with a bendy straw. The creamy froth overflows upon her smooth thigh.
  19. A large black ball drops aggressively in a black bucket. Blue liquid violently erupts from its confines.
  20. A short-denimed woman passionately kisses a nobleman’s marble statue.
  21. A lace-bloused woman sensuously performs CPR upon a similar woman whilst half submerged on a shallow shore.
  22. A crystal ball succumbs a dark forest’s rolling fog.
  23. A manhand takes possession of a woman’s stockinged thigh.
  24. A manhand commandeers a woman’s gold anklet.
  25. A woman severs the hip of her white cotton panties with an intimidating hunting knife. The result is a spectacular display of flesh.
  26. A raven-haired, bespectacled lady sucks on another’s big toe.
  27. A ghastly white-faced, white-haired figure pirouettes on white rollerskates through a shadowy discotheque.
  28. A movie theatre crawls with of furries.
  29. Masked banditos abscond with a prized calico rabbit down the alley of a Spanish barrio.
  30. Topless revolucionarias discover Pablo Díaz-Reixa hiding in bushes and give him a swift kick in the ass.
  31. A redhead and sandy blonde flash commuters from the overpass of a major highway.
  32. Nude women don bandanas with true stick-em-up flair.
  33. Pablo Díaz-Reixa records the mating of two chickens and one man on a queen-size bed.
  34. A wavy-haired tweezer falls victim to a chloroform assault.
  35. Potted flowers hold court on the edge of the racquet’s domain.
  36. Two topless women skim for pennies at the base of a small inland spring.
  37. A woman pursues what appears to be an infantile bull shark in waters it’d never call its own.
  38. An ancient candle long-melted upon and around a woman’s hand.
  39. A prudish woman lights her smoke with the flame of an eternal raven.
  40. Chickens that never were crash upon a maiden’s brow in ecstasy.
  41. Liquid blue flame dances harmlessly upon El Mano.
  42. A woman balances 14 towels precariously upon her left shoulder while lighting a cigarette. Towels tumble pathetically.
  43. Dr. Menendez instructs a blonde to perform the basic motor skills test of touching one’s left index finger to the tip of the nose.
  44. Pablo Díaz-Reixa swears an oath to a new age priest upon a paperback biography of Dutch soccer legend Johan Cruyff. The priest etches a single line upon Pablo Díaz-Reixa’s hand with a thick black marker.
  45. A leather-clad nomad pleads with invisible gods in a shallow, sandy billabong.
  46. A leather-caped woman runs from a dark hollow. She’s horrified to find a skull posted upon a tree at eye level.
  47. A trenchcoated woman sits with her head nestled sideways on a wooden table. Upon her temple rests a shallow saucer. A handled spoon enters, taking its share of the saucer’s creamy contents.
  48. Three women in white cotton dresses dance against he dying light of a setting sun.
  49. A brunette breathes in the light of a glowing crystal ball.
  50. A checkered-tweed hombre offers the seat of a red 10-speed to a mamasita in a short skirt, yellow scarf, and black stockings. As she mounts her metal steed her undies become the very intentional center of attention.
  51. An irregular polyhedron composed of straws sits oddly on a concrete floor.
  52. A hairbrush/mophead hybrid rests in juxtaposition with an aluminum tray filled with cigarette butts.
  53. Colored cotton balls on long, thin dowels protrude from a clump of silver tinsel.
  54. A man rides through an underpass on a beach cruiser at high speed. He is trailed by sparks.
  55. A 50/50 grind down the nose of a Crown Victoria taxi.
  56. A woman engulfed in blue forest smoke.
  57. In a darkened locker room a shirtless man shoots a stuffed panda in the head using a semiautomatic pistol.
  58. A skeleton emerges from beneath a bed to grab a woman’s ankle as she plants her foot on a thick rug.
  59. A large branch is struck against a calm lake surface, creating a shimmering rainbow spray.
  60. A pair of legs kicks wildly while trapped under an immense pile of laundry.
  61. A wall sprouts an arm that reaches aimlessly for a pair of audio samplers.
  62. A man extends his index finger wildly through his zipper to simulate a wiggling penis.
  63. A paper-bagged woman plays a piano.
  64. A back lot cowboy murders a white plywood box.
  65. Two women in white satin dresses attempt mutual homicide in a lake.
  66. Two nude women ride bicycles slowly away from the camera.
  67. Two women’s hair twists together to form a single French braid. The woman on the braid’s right tickles the woman on the left’s ear.
  68. A woman licks a forked branch once again.
  69. A man in white briefs stuffs a second pair of briefs down a vacuum hose. He then proceeds to stick the vacuum hose down his own briefs.
  70. A woman again smashes yet-to-be chickens on her brow.
  71. A man bent over a desk. Several books stacked upon the small of his back. Smooth, colorful stones placed in an oval near his mouth. Pablo Díaz-Reixa eats one of these stones with chopsticks.
  72. A man in a red long-sleeved shirt drowns beautifully.
  73. Pastel Klanswomen roam a dry, grassy hillside.
  74. A shirtless gladiator in black spandex thrusts his broadsword triumphantly toward the heavens.
  75. A beautiful nude Golden Girl fondles a Golden Cassette.

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Download The Album From Vinyl

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Tracklist

A1 Bombay 3:39
A2 Novias 3:23
A3 Ghetto Fácil 2:44
A4 Soca Del Eclipse 4:10
A5 Lycra Mistral 3:49
B1 FM Tan Sexy 3:42
B2 Muerte Midi 3:47
B3 (Chica-Oh) Drims 3:39
B4 Danza Invinto 5:07


Chris Isaak Silvertone Vinyl MP3 320 Flac Wav CD 1985 Wicked Game Heart-Shaped World

Welcome to the 150th album post on Rebuilt Tranny Records. Yes, there are now 150 albums to choose from across the musical, and not-so-musical, spectrum on this site. The majority of these albums are random finds I’ve picked up during my years of vinyl scrounging through musty thrift-store shelves, Midwestern record stores, and scary horse barns. More often than not these weird finds end up being new favorites. Of course, there the few that literally get tossed out of the window like unwieldy frisbees. Try it sometime–it’s very therapeutic.

And then there are albums on my list of must-haves for which I continually hunt. At the top of this list was Chris Isaak’s Silvertone. I guess you could call it my white whale. Well, not really a white whale but more of a white coyote, given its dark western, cursed desert sound. Each and every time I’ve visited a record store for the past few years I’ve made a B-line to the “I” section looking for this mysterious LP. And every time I’d come up with nothing. No Chris Isaak to speak off, let alone Silvertone.

Now, you may be asking yourself, “Why didn’t you just hop on eBay and pick up a copy? You could have saved yourself a bunch of time and avoided many vinyl dust-induced sneezing fits.” To those people I say that yes, many times I thought about PayPaling my way into Silvertone possession. But the more I physically looked, and the longer I put off online gratification, the more determined I became to find this on my own. I became infected with the passion for the hunt.

Anyone can log online and pick up whatever they want from the endless number of fine internet record stores. Many times this is a completely acceptable method for bolstering one’s collection; mainly when pre-ordering albums from a record label’s store. However, the fact that just anyone can pick up anything  at any time online is what I’m getting at. When you point and click your way into a 33.3 rpm dream it takes away from the sense of achievement.

It’s like feeding a lion chopped Filet Mignon in captivity instead of letting it chase down a speedy antelope on the Serengeti. Yes, that steak sure is tasty but the king of the jungle craves the chase as much as the meat.  Spotting a baby antelope in the grass, the feel of hard-packed dirt beneath his claws, using those claws to grasp and tear the prey to shreds. And finally, when that most primal ritual has been fulfilled, the king relishes the taste of hot, wild blood at his leisure. He’s earned this feast–this winning.

The vinyl hunt is very much the same thing. Of course I love that I’ve found this record and have been playing it over. But at the same time it feels even better to know that I earned it. I had to check every possible spot it could be at every single record store. I found Silvertone last week while on my hands and knees searching through a bottom rack of used rock albums at Grooves Inspiralled Vinyl (and also found a sealed copy of Chris Isaak’s 1987 self-titled release for $6). Yes, it was bad for my back but it was good for the soul, god dammit! It’s like finding the Golden Ticket, something you wanted so badly–more than any other boy in this whole wide world!

But yes, I could have had this years ago. What’s the big deal about earning it? Well, let me put it this way: I would have missed out on boatloads of other music had I not been searching for this single, solitary disc. I wouldn’t have had a few laughs with Dr. Demento, never have been introduced to the eerie electronic world of Tomita, and never learned just how badass Canadian trains really are.

Additionally, I wouldn’t have been able to peep into lives of families from the 70s and 80s. Visiting thrift stores and looking through records is almost like looking in on someone’s living room. You can usually discern where each collection begins and ends in the bins, and through this collection you can see what tastes, or lack of, a family had. Oh, this person had a lot of Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass–they probably used doilies on their sofa arms and had a room where you couldn’t step on the carpet. These other people had lots of Chicago albums–their house had blown glass sculptures and shag carpet tapestries. Lots 0f Culture Club and Grace Jones in this one–this family had a “confused” son they kicked out of the house when he turned 18.

What would happen if one day your vinyl shelves fell on you while you were looking for that Morrisey bootleg and smooshed the life right out of you?  And what if your vinyl collection was inexplicably turned over to the local Goodwill? What would vinylistas say of your collection? Would they say, “My word, this guy/gal was truly a hunter. Someone with an eye for the unique and a hunger for the divine. He fought the good fight and listened the good listen. Pour one out for this brave hunter! HOORAH, HOORAH, speed the soul of this golden ear to the bosom of the Gods!”

Or would they just flip through, saying, “I have this, have this, lame, lame, have this, boooring,” in the blink of an uncaring eye?

>>>Click here to download Silvertone at 320 kbps

Tracklist

A1 Dancin’ 3:44
A2 Talk To Me 3:04
A3 Livin’ For Your Lover 2:56
A4 Back On Your Side 3:14
A5 Voodoo 2:44
A6 Funeral In The Rain 3:18
B1 The Lonely Ones 3:12
B2 Unhappiness 3:10
B3 Tears 2:44
B4 Gone Ridin’ 2:36
B5 Pretty Girls Don’t Cry 2:24
B6 Western Stars 3:12

Credits

Guitar – James Calvin Wilsey
Producer – Erik Jacobsen
Vocals, Guitar – Chris Isaak

In 1966, the same year the majority of these songs were recorded, the Sutro Baths in San Francisco burned to the ground. The Sutro Baths, built in 1897 on the Pacific Ocean shoreline, was a 3-acre collection of salt water pools, water slides, taxidermy exhibits, and curiosities from the world around. The main attraction was, as the name implies, the temperature-controlled salt water pools, which held up to 1.7 million gallons of water and 10,000 swimmers on any given day. The structure itself was a spiderweb of steel girders which supported over 100,000 window panes, allowing swimmers to enjoy sunlight while taking a climate-controlled dip. Surviving pictures of the Sutro Baths are both alluring and terrifying.

Sutro Baths 1897 San Francisco

I hope they had their tetanus shots. Oh wait, that wasn't invented yet. Bummer.

The Sutro Baths are even more horrifyingly awesome when you watch them on video, as is evidenced here in footage taken by Thomas Edison in 1897.

So why is any of this important? The artists in this band grew up in a time when places like the Sutro Baths still existed. They were surrounded by remnants of the European Industrial Revolution, be it the bridges they took across town or the musty warehouses in which they held band practice. I feel that the music contained on this album reflects this environmental influence at its core. However, it is not an ode to the manufactured trappings of the early 20th century but rather a full-throttle attempt to break free from its rigid sense of order and symmetry.

Yet I find it ironic that machines were necessary in order to rebel against their world; a world created by steam engines and diesel geargrinders. After all, electric guitars and amplifiers are nothing more than machines. Yes, they’re sound-producing machines, sound which is interpreted as art that in turn stirs the gamut of human emotion. But essentially they’re nothing more than wood, steel, and wires brought to life by a mysterious electric demon.

Furthermore, I have a gut feeling that these artists’ very simple machines had a direct role in the fire that burned Sutro Baths to the ground. It could very well be that every one of these bands was practicing at the same exact moment on June 26, 1966. With the overdriven amplifiers all running at once they could have sent a cataclysmic electric surge from Europe, past schools of dolphins under the Atlantic Ocean, past herds of cattle on the Great Plains, blew a few fuses in Hoover Dam during a detour, and into the water heaters at Sutro Baths, causing them to explode in a ghastly ball of fire.

Why would a power surge from Europe target one seemingly innocent bath house thousands of miles away and not instead, perhaps, something for the greater good like frying the USSR’s entire radar control system? First, it’s a well-known fact that every man, woman and child in Europe during the 60’s was a closet communist, so the previously mentioned scenario doesn’t hold water. Second, San Francisco’s a hot spot for European tourists. I can’t walk around on the weekends without seeing an Italian in a funny hat, a Pole wearing weird jeans with funny pocket stitching, or a group of Germans barking and hacking out what they call their native tongue.

When you think about it the answer is quite simple as to why these European rockers, and one Canadian, decided to destroy the Sutro Baths. Every one of them, throughout their childhood, visited the Sutro Baths on family holiday. They, being used to Europe’s nude beaches, didn’t pack swimsuits and were forced by Sutro Bath employees to rent one of their turn-of-the-century wool numbers. These, of course, were entirely itchy and unflattering.

swimsuit 1900s wool one-piece

Looking good. Not.

American swimmers, cocky as ever with their post-war short shorts and polka dot bikinis, harangued the European fashion misfits to no end. I mean, they really gave it to them. It didn’t end at calling them Soggy Bottom Bambinas or Frumpy Frogs. They kept it real by administering wet, woolly wedgies. I’m talking real ass-rippers here, folks. Blood and shit exploding everywhere in a frothy, briny foam–all set to a chorus of teenage American laughter. This is a trespass for which the Europeans never forgave the Americans and the site of their humiliation: Sutro Baths. Can you blame them?

I’m still gathering data from European energy conglomerates and PG&E before I bring my case before the International Court of Justice. As such, I must make the legal disclaimer that these opinions are most likely the truth and are probably not false. So kiss my ass, legal types.

What I can safely say is that these European garage rockers did succeed in kicking my ass with a six string blast. And then some.

>>>Click here to download Searching In The Wilderness on 320 kbps MP3 from vinyl

Artist and Track Breakdown (Preview vids at the bottom.)

Searching In The Wilderness Muziek Express Op Art '66 Serie

1. Namelosers – But I’m So Blue

Sweden’s Namelosers deliver a fine, aggressive folk-punker with “But I’m So Blue”, the B-Side of a very confused version of Rufus Thomas’ “Walking The Dog”. Propelled by a powerful rhythm track, with terrific harp, strong vocals, and a chaotic guitar break, this 1965 track captures the Namelosers evolution from a standard beat group into archetypical Euro-Punkers!

Searching In The Wilderness "Muziek Express"

A2. Red Squares – You Can Be My Baby

The Red Squares “You Can Be My Baby” stands as one of the most powerful and well produced Mod Ravers of the sixties, in a league with the best releases by the Birds, Eyes, Creation, or Small Faces. Transplanted Englishmen, the Red Squares enjoyed much greater success in Sandanavia than in their native England.

Slashing guitar chords open this 1967 release, with strong, melodic vocals and chorus leading into the wild, Pop-Art style rave-ups, the vocals sounding clearer and convincing as mayhem occurs on the instrumental front.

An alternate version of “You Can Be My Baby” was also released, this take being much slower, with a thin, sparse production, almost demo quality, lacking most of the power and excitement for this issue, which stands as one of the best Swedish records of the sixties!

Searching In The Wilderness muziek express

A3. Motions – For Another Man

Holland’s Motions are generally considered to be one of the finest European sixties bands, sort of continental Remains. Led by songwriter-guitarist-singer Rob Van Leeuwen, their reputation rests on a handful of singles and E.P. tracks, and one fabulous album, Introduction to The Motions, from which this track is taken. Their range of styles was impressive, from Beatles style uptempo ballads to the full-throttle pop auto-destruct of “Everything That’s Mine”, a 1966 non-L.P. single. “For Another Man” is a good example of their more melodic style, with punchy acoustic guitar, irresistible hooks, and great vocals.

Muziek Express Searching In The Wilderness

A4. Sean Buckley and The Breadcrumbs – Everybody Knows

This 1965 U.K. Release is distinguished by Shel Talmy’s solid production, and is highlighted by some startling guitar work by Jimmy Page. The song and band performance merely serve as a springboard for an electrifying guitar break, as exciting as any session playing Page is credited with in the 60’s. See the excellent James Patrick Page – Session Man double LP for further examples of  some of his most inspired work.

A5. The Boys Blue – You Got What I Want

The Boys Blue were an early incarnation of the Sorrows, and released this version in late 1965.

Muziek Express Searching In The Wilderness

Ferocious, mutated post R&B guitar mayhem characterizes the In Crowd’s monumental 1965 feedback and overload orgy of strangled guitars, howling vocals, wailing harp, a truly brutal rhythm attack, compression, leakage, demented 6-string axe murder, and the Parlophone kitchen sink, all combined into a sage witch’s brew of HELL RAISING FURY!

Steve Howe joined the In Crowd (the embryonic Tomorrow) in mid 1965, apparently in time to play guitar on this track.

“Things She Says” is certainly one of the greatest records of the entire R&B/Beat explosion, and is re-issued here for the first time ever. Roll over Beethoven, and tell Crawdaddy Simone the news!

Muziek Express Searching In The Wilderness

A7. Cherokees – Little Lover

“Little Lover” is a track off of The Cherokees scarce 2nd Australian LP, a rare example of the band favoring hard-driving, aggressively electric approach. Fuzzy guitar, upbeat vocals and an enthusiastic performance lead into a wild guitar break, perhaps offering future members of Radio Birdmen early inspiration.

A8. Outsiders – Won’t You Listen

How great are the Outsiders? One listen to this and one look at the cover photo should give you a good idea!. “Won’t You Listen” is off of the Outsiders absolutely outrageous first LP on the Dutch “Relax” label. Amphetamine guitar leads over a pace, changing tempo almost at random, with Wally Tax’s vocal and harp somehow keeping pace with the instrumental pandemonium.

Muziek Express Searching In The Wilderness

A9. Muswell Ravens – All Aboard

The Muswell Ravens entertain with this previously unissued 1965 studio recording. “All Aboard” is distinguished by sloppy, exciting guitar breaks and a drunken, leering vocal delivery. This track is straight ahead rock’n’roll oiled up by liberal applications of Nut-Brown Ale.

B1. A Passing Fancy – I’m Losing Tonight

Brutal Detroit-style electric guitar kicks off this Bo Diddlin’ pounder. “I’m Losing Tonight” is rivalled only by the MC-5’s “Looking at You” and the Underworld’s “Go Away” for sheer electric intensity and attack.

Hailing from Canada, A Passing Fancy released a crappy psychedelic styled album in 1967, including a truly awful version of this track. Fortunately, it was re-recorded for 45 release, and stands today as one of the best Canadian releases of the 60’s.

Muziek Express Searching In The Wilderness

B2. Outlaws – Keep A Knockin’

England’s Outlaws contribute a Scream Lord Sutch style version of “Keep A Knockin'”, a 1964 Joe Meek production, highlighted by a succession of stunning guitar breaks contributed by a teenage Ritchie Blackmore, heard here displaying the technique that made him, along with “Little” Jimmy Page and “Big” Jim Sullivan, one of London’s most in demand session guitarists during the period 1963-1966.

Muziek Express Searching In The Wilderness

B3. Q-65 – It Came To Me

Holland’s Q-65 released a large number of excellent 45 and LP tracks, and “It Came To Me” is certainly one of the best of them. The production is excellent, lending both the vocals and guitars a bright, clear sound full of bite and energy. Driven by an amazingly solid rhythm track, “It Came To Me” stands as a milestone of European Beat/R&B, and sounds just as exciting today as it did 45 years ago.

Muziek Express Searching In The Wilderness

B4. The Golden Earrings best ever performance was relegated to the B-side of their 1st single, and was has never been re-issued until now. “Chunk of Steel” is fabulous, a great song, lyrically intriguing and musically adventurous. Heavily Beatles influenced, the vocal interplay on this 1965 release is counterpointed by biting guitars, pounding drums, and a driving production.

Muziek Express Searching In The Wilderness

B5. Cuby and The Blizzards – I’m So Restless

A high energy rocker, “Restless” by Holland’s Cuby and The Blizzards, the B-side of their first single is a wild, guitar raving, mod flavored Euro-beat blast off!

Muziek Express Searching In The Wilderness

B6. Snobs – Heartbreak Hotel

The ridiculous outfits the snobs popularized do nothing to detract from their spirited approach to raving-up anything from “Buckle Shoe Stomp” to “Heartbreak Hotel”. Enjoying most of their admittedly limited success in Sweden, this 1965 released features and awesome live, wild sound. A video performance on the “Red Skelton” TV show in late 1964 has reportedly survived, rekindling Snob-mania amongst those already in the know. One could hardly do worse than to join them.

B7.The Buzz – You’re Holding Me Down

Having previously done business as the Boston Dexters, who released a strong single with “Nothing’s Gonna Change Me” In 1965, England’s The Buzz hooked up with eccentric producer Joe Meek in 1966 to record this, their sole 45. The full range of Meek’s studio genius is displayed on this recording, with highly compressed vocals being blasted by staccato bursts of machine gun guitar, all drowning in a cesspool of echo and feedback. This release stands as one of Joe Meeks finest: wild, adventurous, no holds barred experimental rave-up.

B8. Alan Pounds Gets Rick – Searching In The Wilderness

OUT-FUCKIN’-RAGEOUS!