The Better Automatic (Resin)

Out of the three main blogs here (for LPs, CDs and 7"s), I think this 7" one is probably the most fun. The LPs and CDs I keep pretty 'clean', as I freak out pretty much annually and sell/toss things. But 7"s get away with murder - I don't notice what I have, often forgetting about them entirely -- and thus you get weird records like this, which I have carted around with me for 10+ years now. The Better Automatic are a now-forgotten band from Washington, DC who I think I set up a show for in 1998. When they came through they were a fun, lively mod-pop band (or at least that's how I remember them). This 7"s downplays melodic hooks in favor of punchy, more shouty vocals and anthemic guitar pricks. It's almost impossible for me to listen to this without thinking of Fugazi, but not because of the DC connection - because the vocalist sounds exactly like Guy Piccioto and the songwriting resembles 'Margin Walker' more than a little. That's not to say that these songs about Buckmister Fuller and sock monkeys are without their charm - and I can see the 17-year-old me getting really excited about this - but listening now, it's just begging to be forgotten. I don't know why they reminded me of the Jam live - maybe they changed sounds after this 7" came out, or maybe my memory is just extremely faulty. I also realise that this is the type of record I should be digitising and uploading MP3s of.... this project decided not to do that, because otherwise I'd end up digitising my entire record collection and that's way more labour than I'm willing to commit to. But what's the point of reading my poorly-written 3 sentence review of this band if you can't hear it yourself? I highly doubt anyone else out there is gonna be ripping this. So, if you really want to hear The Better Automatic, comment here and maybe in the new year I'll get to it. (oh, how promising!)

Bent Leg Fatima - 'Mouse b/w Crow, Cat & Snake' (Lounge)

This two-song, 33rpm single is Bent Leg Fatima's vinyl debut (I guess), and a bit of fun if you haven't just listened to the LP, like I did. But, if you are going to distill a great LP into two of its best songs and put out a single before the album comes out, I guess these are two great choices. I can't tell how different these recordings or pressings are - I'd like to say that 'Mouse's organs have a bit more room to breathe here than on the LP, but I can't really say that with confidence. Things do crescendo here and the cymbals threaten to overwhelm, but the band holds tight and the poor mouse has nowhere else to go. 'Crow, Cat & Snake' mellows it out a bit, though you'd think those animals would be fighting each other like maniacs. It's a deep Philly groove, not an ass-shaker but a headscratcher. Though it falls into mellow indie-keyboard territory, I do like the way the bass guitar, electric guitar and keys fall in and out of phase with each other - its an old trick to kick some trippyness into 4/4, but it works well. (I'm not oblivious to the idea that these instruments represent the animals of the title, in which case guitar is crow). The URL printed on the sleeve (www.voicenet.com/~lounge) is long dead (2004, according to the Wayback machine at archive.org) and I think we can assume the same about Lounge Records. I couldn't find images for this or the LP online which might put this band at the perfect cusp of pre-Internet saturation (1997-98, the golden years, eh?).

Beltbuckle (Sonic Bubblegum)

Sometime in 1993, a now-forgotten Massachusetts label with a Bazooka Joe ripoff logo put out this 4 song EP. It was a bit of a Massachusetts supergroup, being a songwriting partnership between Lou Barlow (of Sebadoh) and Eric Matthews (of Cardinal and a generally under-the-radar solo career). The glue holding it together is Bob Fay, who later would perform in both Cardinal and Sebadoh. But strangely this slips through the cracks of history despite its total excellence. 'Judas Suicide' sets the pace with three distinct sections, merging hypnotic teenage angst with cult-like devotion. Maybe I'm just timewarping back to high school but I'm still a bit shocked at how natural this sounds despite the mood shifts. My eyes wideneds and ears tingled as I clutched my Mexican Telecaster, with this dubbed to my Walkman. Do kids still feel this way anymore or has the digital Myspace era taken all of that away? 'Pocket Skylab Love' mines some territory not far from My Dad is Dead, but with a somewhat more home-spun feel, if possible. But the gem is side two track one -- 'Mary Hair'. Early 90's indierock songwriting rarely hits such magical peaks -- 'King of the roadtrip, no defrocking' and the Beastie Boys are there, and despite fart jokes and cheapass distortion pedals, this is my adolescence captured in a two minute song. Actually, it's what I thought my post-adolescence could be. I was wrong as hell, but I'm thankful for the goal. 'Girl Who Reads' rounds it out with a bit of aggression, like Tar meeting 'God Told Me' from Sebadoh III. These days I only give two shits about Lou Barlow when revisiting this 91-93 New England-centric period -- but this may be my single favorite entry in his discography. Eric Matthews is mostly relegated to background vocals (w/Fay) but I think he certainly had a hand in crafting 'Mary Hair'. The Cardinal LP (an equally awesome project, particularly because the partner is the incredibly singular talent of Richard Davies) found an audience after all these years, getting a deluxe CD reissue. I don't know where this Beltbuckle EP will end up in in the narrative continuum since it's just a tossed off side-project, but for something tossed off, there's an incredible unity in the songwriting.

Bob Bannister - 'Easterly' (Remora)

In 1994 Bob Bannister put out this 4-song solo EP and I bought it a few years later, finding it probably at a secondhand shop or in a clearance bin. It's been so long since I've listened to it that I forgot I had it, but that's what this project is for, right? 'Least Bell's Vireo' is a piece for two just-intonated guitars, an experiment in timbre and dissonance that (due to the format limitations) sadly ends before it really gets going. 'Rising 33' is a real gem to follow with - the most orchestrated piece on the 7", with bass, guitar, keys, violin and a flute, it tears itself apart in all manners of South Island weather balloon observation music yet still keeps a few feet on the grimy NYC streets. 'Hen First' on side B is a 4-track recording of electric guitar jangle which is pleasant, yet slightly throwaway - and then 'Locks and Bolts' winds things up with an organ-driven pop song, with beautiful, romantic lyrics multitracked. There's a slight country twang to his voice and it feels a bit like church music at the same time. So beautiful and plain and succinct -- one for the mix tapes! I think he did a solo full-length which would be nice to track down (in addition to those Fire in the Kitchen and Tono-Bungay records, none of which are bad). The title is wonderfully appropriate as this music is very 'east coast' and windy - with clear direction but not necessarily force or gusto.

Baby 63 - 'Quiver' b/w 'Shark Watch Maker' (S-S)

The treasure trove of early 80s obscurities, reissues from some punk tidal wave, is a gift that keeps on giving. Here, Soriano of S-S records brings two songs from the Baby 63 tape to vinyl. 'Quiver' sounds like a Ralph Records outtakes with weird, warbled grinding and tape flutter (probably just an artifact from the original source, though it sounds great) buried deep in each channel. The song changes gears a few times and resonates in air also occupied by fans of Tuxedomoon, though with a darker, more amateurish Very Good records vibe. Yet there's something Beefheartian about the singing, or maybe post-Beefheartian (the antecedent to Stump, perhaps?). 'Shark Watch Maker' is a very repetitive dark grind that has it's moaning industralism cut by some strained vocals, which pull against the guitars. I like when songs are layered with heavy minimal guitars and synths, yet the drum track is someone hitting an empty Tupperware container (or something similar household and 'small'). The liner notes explain the story of Baby 63, which was almost entirely one woman named Karen Fletcher. It took 21 years for these two songs to see vinyl and I can only wonder about the rest of her output.

Bablicon - 'Chunks of Syrup Amidst Plain Yoghurt'/'Silicon Diodes' (Pickled Egg)

I guess this was a teaser for the In A Different City album; side A is straight from that record, a nice enough tune with a casual casio beat, some chunky banjo and a general mid 90's wyrd pop vibe that you never hear anymore. This reminds me a LOT of Bügsküll, especially when the sampled, processed speaking comes in towards the end. Its not the most representative track of early Bablicon but when diversity was the name of the game, what is? Bonus points for the 'Tusk'-like coda of the college football marching band. And the B-side is good for eclectic weirdness. Spoken japanese vocals, a thumping jazz-rock line, and some weird musique concrete breakdowns make 'Silicon Diodes' a true winner - something that would probably fit best on that awesome second album or EP, The Orange Tapered Moon. It descends into a nimble electric piano dance that is whimsical and weird, and leaves you wanting more, which is exactly what a "single" should do right?

Azusa Plane / Roy Montgomery split (Colorful Clouds for Acoustics)

The Azusa Plane tune is titled 'Volume IV: She Was Into S&M and Bible Studies, Not Everyone's Cup of Tea She Would Admit to Me, Her Cup of Tea She Would Admit to No One' and it's a 33 1/3 slice of slowly pulsing drone. The cover art is apt and this is one that you feel more than you hear, know what I mean? Roy Montgomery's side, 'Cumulus and Fugue', is similar stylistically to the guitar/delay strum heard on Temple IV. There's a more tonal center than the Azusa side, though it's still barely recognizable as guitar, and like the best kinda of these things it works well either really quiet or really loud. Thin, translucent blue vinyl ties this all together conceptually and if you get your kicks doing as little as possible, this is your soundtrack.

Azucar / Noggin split (Sweet Baboo)

Almost four months of limbo while we waited for LPs and CDs to catch up, but welcome back! I'm not sure how this ended up in my 7" accumulation, but it's a fun little treasure. The side which is Azucar (I THINK - they are unlabeled) is a meandering instrumental gem of piano, guitar and violin. It's tender and melodic but continually falling apart and picking itself back up. It's kinda in the vein of one of those indie-classical groups like Rachel's, only if they were afflicted by Parkinson's disease. Whoever they were, they came from Brunswick, NJ, always a home of anti-aesthetic weirdos. Could today's gang of BoneToothHorn rascals be somehow affiliated? But from the West coast, Noggin take a different approach to the violin: manic and lo-fi, dancing around the perimeter of utter beauty but also falling away from it. It's like Malcolm Goldstein put through the laundry machine a few times - on the cold/cold cycle. This was 1996; I can only think about how this would have been received ten years earlier or ten years later. Records like this make me love the 7" format - a slice of visionary weirdness, eternally reproducible in a way the CD-R won't be. Will tomorrow's centurions of the obscure dedicate their bandwidth to finding out just who (or what) Azucar were (or was)?

Auk Theatre / Ortho split (no label)

Here's a split 7" picturedisc, one side being the soundtrack from Irene Moon's performance-based Auk Theatre, and the other from a group called Ortho.  Ortho's side is about insects, a common theme in Moon's work actually, and sounds as such, though it would be insects in the dying stages of their short lifespan.  There's picking and plucking and lots of time to look at the corners of the room.  The Auk Theatre side is either mastered with a shitload of lock grooves, or heavily scratched (it's hard to tell on the pic-disc surface) because my turntable arm continually stuck on weird repetitive bits.  With a few manual advances I got through the piece which is a dentistry-themed work, full of dental drills jackhammering into your consciousness, with some warble and samples from 50's educational films.  I thought that losing the visual aspect of the piece would lessen my enjoyment, but it stands up pretty well as a fucked up sound nightmare too -- once I figured out how to crank my turntable counterweight back.

The 1985 (Monoton Studio)

Source: Got it in 2001, maybe at a record release show? It's hazy, those days....

Fast-forward a few years, after the '85 have gone on a few tours, put out a few full-lengths, and had a membership change. This release, possibly their final one, is a real re-invention: there's something European about them now. I mean, Monoton is a German label, so maybe a direction change was part of the contract. New (though not so new by 2001) drummer A.E. Paterra plays the electronic drum kit, no doubt easier to travel with, and the whole process takes on a more "mature" sound. On side 1, Joe Vernet, Jr. is still yelping like his toenails are being pulled out, but it has a, I dunno, sophistication previously unheard. There's a weird guitar comedown at the end of 'The Long Weekend' which is strangely pretty. Then, side 2 - the total departure - the slow, pulsing electro-pop of '(Even) More', featuring electric piano and delicately sung vocals! Have the '85 abandoned their roots? Or just signaled at the tensions re:direction that potentially led to their disbanding? I doubt anyone actually heard this 7" so I suppose that no one was really asking.

The 1985 / Pressgang - 'Battle of the Brain Geniuses' (C.L.)

Source: Not sure - got from someone affiliated with one of the two bands in 1997 when this came out.

Attractively packaged on CL (which if my memory serves, stood for 'Cheese Log') Records, this split 7" is highly conceptual, see? It comes with a classic DIY 7" booklet containing photos and lyrics, rendered in near-unreadable fonts and handwriting, and a explanation on the back of the big concept behind this record. Because a split 7" is such a crazy, unique idea, isn't it? The '85 tracks sound a million times better than on their debut though maybe this is due to better mastering and pressing. The drums, they sound like drums, and the vocals have their proper screamy yelling quality that they deserve. The songs, well they're in the same manner as the first record: musical confection for those who snack on angry Northern white men, one foot in the post-hardcore camp and one foot still in art school. Pressgang, who we'll visit again when we get to the Ps, are somewhat more in the punker camp, though the guitar riffs (and lyrics) suggest influence from Mission of Burma, Moss Icon, etc. Growled vocals occasionally doubled by a female drive it along and cut against the occasional sunshine seen in the chord changes. The female takes lead for the last track but sounds she's struggling to stay out of high tide.

The 1985 - 'Seven Inch Record' (Pop Bus)

Source: Bought at a show, from the band or label, early 1997.

These guys used to rock my adolescent world, with their black-clad nihilism, pointy riffs and subversive attitudes. I hadn't heard Nation of Ulysses or Six Finger Satellite then, but so what if I had? It wouldn't lessen the thrill of taking a bus across town to watch these guys play in basements so I could awkwardly nod my head up and down and dream of the future. I remember the release show for this, with Chisel headlining, the '85 (as we called them), a teenage post-rock band called Spittoon and a long-lost band called Daytime TV. This 7" convienently falls at the start of the alphabetical 7" project but it's a good start -- this record was the first record in my life that I looked forward to because I felt like I was part of it. Not because I actually had anything to do with the record itself but because it was from this tiny slice of the world that I was carving out for myself. Listening now I'm mostly struck but the horrendous mastering job, probably a United in-house deal, and the preponderance of distorted, descending guitar riffs. Dan Tomko's bass farts about in a Jesus Lizard/Metal Box manner and on which Vernet and Schreckengost can hang their guitar parts. Though it sounded so angry, explosive, and haphazard to me twelve years ago, today I'm struck but how carefully constructed it all is. Bonus points for having a bonus track at the end of the first side. The top of the beautiful Third Termite packaging has faded after years of being hit but sunlight but Schreckengost's paste-on art print still looks great.