cosmic tones for mental therapy (1963) – sun ra and his myth science arkestra: saturn research (2009 re-issue), SR-408

It is very safe to say that Sun Ra is weird.

“Weird” is one of those concepts which folks assume has an unambiguous, objective, binary meaning – like “wet” or “pregnant”. For example something either is or is not wet or is or is not pregnant. In the same way, people believe that things either are or are not weird – there’s no in-between (unless, of course, we apply the quantum situation described by Schroedinger, in which an object (say, a cat) occupies both states until it is observed, after which it falls into one or the other state allowing the original, unambiguous either/or definition and the object either is or is not. But I digress).

So, even though “weird” really is a subjective concept, many people think of it as objective, Schroedinger be damned. Some things simply are weird, and some aren’t. Early David Lynch movies, the grammatical structure of Choctaw language, and using a glazed donut as a hamburger bun are unequivocally and unarguably weird.

Of course, just because something is weird (i.e. early Lynch films, Choctaw, and donut burgers) doesn’t also mean that it is bad, or that nobody likes it. Weird may require a specialized taste, or only appeal to a select few, but there’s someone out there who will dig it. I mean, donuts as a hamburger bun doesn’t really sound great to me, but you may think it’s the best thing since adding bacon to coffee.

So it is with the music of Sun Ra. Especially the stuff he was creating from the early ‘60s to the mid-‘70s. A few folks dig it, but most people just find it weird.

Cosmic Tones For Mental Therapy is a perfect example.

Side 1: And Otherness Thither And Yon Adventure Equation
Side 2: Moon Dance Voice Of Space

By the early 60’s Sun Ra underwent a change in his music, moving from more or less accessible jazz (such as in Jazz in Silhouette and Interstellar Low Ways) to a much more free, experimental style like in Cosmic Tones. In the process he also started using new electronic instruments and studio techniques to shape his sonic expression in newer and more bizarre ways.

The result is an album that, in many ways, predicts and anticipates the kind of psychedelic and experimental sounds of Zappa, Beefheart, Clinton, Fripp, Eno, and Bowie.

Cosmic Tones is one of those albums that can clear out a crowded room in less than four bars, leaving only those who are drawn to the obscure, strange, peculiar, odd, and creepy. Someone who needs to at least occasionally ditch the squares and let themselves experience something completely and utterly out there. Someone who is comfortable with subversive, alternative, and sometimes just flat out weird things. In other words, someone like me.

Every track on the album is a new adventure. The atonal reeds and seemingly un-related percussion of And Otherness sets the table for a trip into your own head. In comparison, the other two cuts on side 1, Thither And Yon and Adventure Equation sound almost like something by Lawrence Welk.

Side 2 opens with the really groovy Moon Dance, which is about as normal a song as Sun Ra composed during the 60's - a wonderful bass & drum bonanza.  The album closes much as it opens, with some heavy extraterrestrial vibes in Voice of Space.

For me, the real treat of Sun Ra is that, like a Kandinsky or Pollock painting, it somehow forces me to reflect inward. It’s like getting caught in the time-trip of some serious grass without taking a rip off a bong. The music is at once claustrophobic and liberating. This cat may not actually have come from Saturn, but when he gets into a groove, his music can take you on a trip round the moons of Nibia and round the Antares maelstrom and round perdition’s flame and back.

I guess the most concise way to summarize is to say I don’t know if this is any damn good, but I know I totally dig it.

Up next: Blues with a British accent

get happy (1980) – elvis costello and the attractions: columbia records, JC-36347

In three short years (and three amazing albums) Elvis Costello had gone from complete unknown to one of the kings of the punk music scene. Fans and critics were stumbling over themselves trying to find new ways to heap praise on his work, and his first three albums were already considered among the most influential and important of the new punk oeuvre.

The problem was, Elvis (like many other new musicians in the late 70’s & early 80’s) was lumped into the punk category because of convenience rather than merit – at least depending on how one defined punk.

Strictly speaking, punk rock was the reaction to the overproduced and overly embellished style that had come to dominate music, bringing back very basic 4/4 time signatures, uncomplicated three-chord structures, and a stripped-down guitar-bass-drum instrumentation (very much like the sound coming from the British Invasion of the 60’s). The songs were short, loud, and often dealt in very simple terms with themes of alienation, dissatisfaction, and disillusion. The music could be quite insightful and resonant, but its core punk was unpretentious and primitive: two words that could never be applied to Elvis Costello.

However, although Elvis used keyboards (not a punk instrument), wrote some incredibly biting, multi-faceted, verbally adroit, and complex lyrics, and employed musical styles ranging from reggae (Less Than Zero, Living In Paradise) to torch song (Alison), his intensity, odd appearance, confrontational attitude, and unconventional sound meant he was considered punk.

So, it was actually quite an audacious act when, in 1980, Elvis released his decidedly non-punk album, Get Happy!!

Side 1: I Can’t Stand Up For Falling Down Black & White World 5ive Gears In Reverse B Movie Motel Matches Human Touch Beaten To The Punch Temptation I Stand Accused Riot Act
Side 2: Love For Tender Opportunity The Imposter Secondary Modern King Horse Possession Man Called Uncle Clowntime Is Over New Amsterdam High Fidelity

The big backstory to Get Happy!! concerns some ill-considered and rather vulgar comments a very drunk Elvis made to some very drunk members of Stephen Stills’ band one night in a bar in Columbus, Ohio, where Elvis referred to James Brown as a “jive-arsed n****r”, and Ray Charles as an “ignorant n****r”, and some have considered the clear R&B groove on Get Happy!! to be an effort at making amends.

Now, Get Happy!! definitely has a different sound than Elvis’ first three albums. However, the truth is that Get Happy!! is less about atoning for ugly racist comments and more about Elvis’ paying tribute to his personal musical influences (even the cover art has a throwback feel to it, hinting that this is an album paying respect to the past). Elvis’ father was a band singer specializing in pop music, and he grew up listening to a lot of American vocalists, particularly Motown acts and the Memphis soul of Stax Records. In fact, one can hear that Motown/Stax R&B groove in Steve Nieve’s keyboards from the beginning.

Regardless of the intent of the album, Get Happy!! marks a transitionary phase from the aggressive, sardonic, snarling Elvis we knew, to the softer, more musically open, contemplative Elvis of Trust, Almost Blue, Imperial Bedroom, Punch The Clock, and Goodbye Cruel World. Musically, Get Happy!! has the guitar recede to the background (almost to the point of disappearing) and puts the organ and bass front and center, while lyrically it retains much of the verbal dexterity of Aim, Model, and Forces, but softens the delivery.

But none of that mattered for me. I was fully bought into this album before it was even released. Leaving aside the fact I was a huge Elvis fan ever since I first heard My Aim Is True, Elvis had a great way of promoting Get Happy!! – a ridiculously silly spoof of those K-Tel record television commercials, complete with Elvis holding a clipboard:

There was clearly no way I wasn’t going to get this album. And I was glad I did. In 1980 I was 16, and still too young to have the inflexible attitude that artists shouldn’t evolve and have their style change, and so I heard the songs without the prejudice of demanding they have the same sound as earlier material (sadly, I’ve lost some of that elasticity, and frequently find myself playing the cantankerous old coot, bellyaching about how rotten a band’s new music is compared to their old stuff before rushing out my door to shoo children off my lawn). Which is good, because I really like this album. Also, Get Happy!! was released during the dawn of the music video, when the production value was low, the artist had influence, and the video makers had to be creative to compensate for miniscule budgets and minimal resources. Because of that, I can never hear I Can’t Stand Up (For Falling Down) without seeing a remarkably dorky looking Elvis and the Attractions engage in some hilarious dancing across Amsterdam vistas, and enjoying a plate of Fish & Chips. See for yourself!

Get Happy!! is one of those albums that I have played over and over again since I got it, and it always seems fresh and enjoyable. This listen was no different. From the second the needle dropped, I found myself singing along with the songs and just feeling fresh and, well, happy. It’s just a great album.

Up next: Groovy interstellar weirdness to put your mind right

generation x (1978) – generation x: chrysalis records, CHR-1169

In many ways, Generation X are the forgotten band of England’s nascent punk scene. People obviously remember The Clash and the Sex Pistols, but they also tend to have more vivid recollections of bands like Stiff Little Fingers, The Damned, The Buzzcocks, or Ian Dury and the Blockheads than they do of Gen X.

I think I know why, too. It’s because of all those bands, Gen X always seemed to be the one that was approximating punk without actually being punk. Just look at the album cover: the lads wore the right “punk” clothes, they had the “punk” hair, they had the “punk” hard poses, and had the “punk” attitude but for some reason it all seemed like an affect.

Take Billy Idol as an example. The guy had the same spikey hair and insubordinate snarl as Sid Vicious, but one always felt that with Sid it was an external manifestation of his internal psychopathy, while with Billy it seemed a costume. And that’s not quite fair, because Billy and Gen X were a part of the bona fide, OG, London punk scene from the mid-70’s, before punk was even officially punk.

The problem was that the band and and their songs didn’t have the same level of pure anger, disillusionment, and fuck you attitude as other punk bands from London. And that made it seem as if they were merely playing at being punk for the sake of exploiting an emerging market.

Their eponymous first album was released in 1978.

Side 1: Gimme Some Truth Wild Youth From The Heart Ready Steady Go Kleenex Promises Promises
Side 2: Day By Day One Hundred Punks Your Generation Kiss Me Deadly Wild Dub Youth Youth Youth

I remember buying this album while still in high school, when I developed my infatuation with Elvis Costello, The Ramones, X, and The Clash. At that time I couldn’t get enough of this new music, and would scrimp and save every penny to buy records or to afford to get tickets to see live shows at venues like the Whiskey, Madame Wongs, The Roxy, The Rainbow, and other clubs in Hollywood.

It was a glorious time to be young and involved in a musical revolution. It seemed as if every time you blinked there was a new band out demanding your attention. Some of them were good, most not so good, but there was a choice and an apparent endless supply.

So when I first heard One Hundred Punks on KROQ, I immediately took an interest and got the record.

I played it.

I listened to it.

I liked it.

But I didn't love it. Even though songs like Gimme Some Truth (a great cover of a John Lennon song), Wild Youth, and One Hundred Punks are really freaking awesome, there was something about it that kept me at arm's length and stopped me from loving it in the same way halitosis might stop a dude from really loving making out with a girl, or hangovers might stop someone from really loving a night of hard drinking.

It was at this listen where that something finally crystallized for me as being this odd sense that Gen X were like a gifted actor portraying a real person, or an exceptional cover band. They were close, but just reproductions of the real thing, and that gap between them and real produced enough of a hollow sound to make a difference.

As it turns out, I’m not alone in this feeling. Others have noted Gen X’s accessibility, pop tendency, and non-threatening sound. In fact, the members of the band themselves admit that they pursued a path with their band trying to navigate between the aggression of punk and the acquiescence of mainstream.

Eventually the band broke apart for the same reasons all bands break apart, and the guys went their own way. Billy became a huge solo artist, peddling the same pseudo-punk music, attitude, and style as Gen X did, eventually becoming a bit of a caricature of himself in the process.

But this album is still quite catchy and a nice nostalgic journey to an exciting time when music was constantly changing.

Up next: Maturing from punk to performer

geese & the ghost, the (1977) – anthony phillips: passport records, PP-98020

As I sat listening to this album last night, it struck me that Anthony Phillips’ career could be used as a sort of a Rorschach test to find out whether someone was a glass “half full” or “half empty” person.

A “half empty” guy would see Ant’s trajectory as a modern tragedy worthy of the Shakespeare treatment: a guy with incredible talent and vision, and founding member of Genesis who voluntarily left before the band started to achieve notoriety (due to paralyzing stage fright), only to fall into near total obscurity, where only fringe fans and other musicians remember who he is.

A “half full” guy, on the other hand, would understand the reason for Ant’s withdrawal from Genesis, and instead focus on how he continues to create incredible music, free of all the baggage, obligations, pressure to create something that the public will consume that comes from being in a successful rock band.

Then there’s Ant’s own state, which seems to be one of contentment with his lot, coupled with a tinge of regret at not having shared in the success and development of Genesis during their prog years.

The Geese & The Ghost, released in 1977, is his first solo album.

Side 1: Wind Tales Which Way The Wind Blows Henry, Portrait From Tudor Times Fanfare Lute’s Chorus Misty Battlements Henry Goes To War Death Of A Knight Triumphant Return God If I Saw Her Now
Side 2: Chinese Mushroom Cloud The Geese And The Ghost Part i Part ii Collections Sleepfall: The Geese Fly West

This album is very familiar territory for fans of very early Genesis, and with good reason. Not only were Ant’s fingerprints all over the album Trespass (and to some extent Nursery Cryme), but many of the songs on G&G were co-written with Mike Rutherford, and sung by Phil Collins.

It’s like the Genesis album that never was. Almost. See, even though the guitar and arrangements on a song like The Geese And The Ghost sound like they could fit seamlessly on Trespass, Nursery Cryme, or, to a lesser extent, Foxtrot, the reduced significance of keyboards marks this as absolutely not Genesis.

What it is, however, is an album that, while a nice example of Ant’s prowess and very listenable, seems a bit wanting. The songs are all competent and at times interesting, but never totally compelling, and during this listen I found myself guilty of a sin I could never commit when listening to Genesis or King Crimson: I would inadvertently wander at times away from the music. Whether that’s because of the heavy medieval influence on the music or because of a hole that Ant and Rutherford couldn’t fill with their composition, the music on G&G was often less than exciting. And that’s hard for me to say, because in many ways both the album G&G in general and the song G&G in particular, picks up threads left by Nursery Cryme’s opening song, the Musical Box (written by Ant), and I desperately wanted this album to be as interesting as that song.

However, the thing that did capture my interest during this listen is the way in which G&G expressed how influential Ant was in creating the sound Genesis would build in the early 70’s, even though it was Steve Hackett who did the actual building.

Even though this write-up is supposed to be about Ant’s first solo album, I simply cannot listen to it without drawing comparisons to early Genesis. And that’s both good and bad, because it does acknowledge Ant’s lasting legacy with the band and his huge talent, but also laments the fact that, despite being made one founding member of Genesis with great help by another founding member of Genesis, G&G simply does not stand alongside the Genesis albums Trespass or Nursery Cryme.

Up next: Between My Generation and Your Generation

from the inside (1978) – alice cooper: warner bros records, BSK-3263

By the late 70’s Alice Cooper the band and Alice Cooper the stage character had merged into Alice Cooper the entity, and eventually possessed the body of the band’s frontman creating Alice Cooper the trinity (Band, Character, Person). If that makes any sense to you at all then you must be Catholic, and have come to terms with the whole Father-Son-Spirit thing.

In any case, Alice Cooper was now something more than a person, band, or idea, and was residing in the body of a scrawny guy from Arizona named Vince. Now that’s some heavy dope to be carrying around, and it would put the zap on anyone’s head, but when one considers that Vince was a dorky preacher’s kid who grew up sheltered from the excess of Rock and Roll, one can understand how a hedonistic lifestyle of unlimited sex, booze, and drugs combined with the adoption of an extremely over-the-top personality might prove to be a bit too much to handle.

So it was no surprise that Alice/Vince finally snapped, and ended up spending time in a safe, quiet building with many safe, quiet padded rooms. And since art seems to come from pain, it’s also not really surprising that Alice took Vince's experience, employed art as additional therapy, and recorded an album about it: 1978’s From The Inside.

Side 1: From The Inside Wish I Were Born In Beverly Hills The Quiet Room Nurse Rozetta Millie And Billie
Side 2: Serious How You Gonna See Me Now For Veronica’s Sake Jacknife Johnny Inmates (We’re All Crazy)

The first thing that comes across on listening to this album is just how different this sounds from previous Alice Cooper albums. The songs have more melody and a gentler touch to them. There’s a stronger use of piano (often as the primary instrument), and far less of the “shock and horror” that categorized the earlier stuff. In fact, in many ways, From The Inside sounds less an Alice Cooper album than an Elton John album.

Part of that is because of how intensely personal this album is (more on that in a bit), but really the softer, more Eltony sound is because of the songwriting partnership between Alice and Bernie Taupin. Bernie, as you probably know, was Elton’s songwriting partner for donks, which explains the predominance of piano and why one can almost hear Elton’s warbling on songs like The Quiet Room or How You Gonna See Me Now.

But for all the Bernie/Elton qualities, this is still very much an Alice Cooper album. There are harder songs (Beverly Hills, Serious, and For Veronica’s Sake), and while the delightfully perverse Millie And Billie may be the only song with typically nightmarish Alice Cooper lyrics, there’s no mistaking the snark and darkness of the content in the other songs.

The difference is that while the macabre content of earlier albums were invented and remote in a sort of HP Lovecraft way, the songs on this album are disturbing because of their authenticity.  Alice/Vince really did suffer from a psychotic break. Alice/Vince really did spend time in a nuthouse. And Alice/Vince really did meet people with some seriously fucked up heads. These songs are based on that experience and the people. Wish I Were Born In Beverly Hills, Serious , and How You Gonna See Me Now tell about Alice/Vince’s personal demons. Nurse Rozetta, Millie And Billie, and Jacknife Johnny are about some of the other nuts in the facility. And From The Inside, The Quiet Room, and Inmates are about the place.

Following the reputation of Alice Cooper albums for creative packaging, From The Inside goes one more step by actually making the album cover a part of the record, rather than just decoration. It’s an immersive experience that actually enhances the songs, by interactively drawing one into the insanity. The front cover close-up of a confused and frightened Alice opens in the middle like double-doors revealing a scene filled with the characters from the album, letting us identify them and relate to them while listening to their songs. We see the timid sexual curiosity of the preacher as he lifts Nurse Rozetta’s skirt, or the manic expression on the rich gal born in Beverly Hills, the desperation of the guy who needs to get back to Veronica, and the dead expression on Billie. Opening the small door labeled “The Quiet Room” shows a tiny, huddled Alice. Finally, the back of the album also has double-doors, which upon opening shows a mass of dangerous lunatics charging out.

The raw honesty of the subject matter makes this album compelling. Even when dressed up and sanitized (and in songs like Rozetta also given a comical take), the paranoia, pain, and hopelessness of the situation comes through making it a tough listen. But that honesty also makes it rewarding enough so that listening to it close to 35 years after I first bought it, it still has an impact.

Up next: Tales of love, war, and loss from a Prog Pioneer