I still don't like Genesis

 

Genesis’s lifespan is divided into two parts: firstly, the high prog years with Peter Gabriel on vocals; and, secondly, the period where the prog part declines and the commercial AOR success with Phil Collins on vocals.  

 

I was exposed to some of that first period by listening to a Saturday late night music show on the English Service of the SABC, which focused on prog rock and similar styles, and heard much more of the music from the second period because Radio 5 played the pop hits to death. They also heavily favoured Collins’ solo hits.

 

The music of the Gabriel years made no impression on me, mostly because it was too genteel, noodly and “intellectual” for me at an age where my  preferred acts were Slade, T Rex, Suzi Quatro, Deep Purple and David Bowie.  I actively disliked the releases of the Collins period because the music still didn’t appeal to me and because I actively loath Phil Collins’ voice and style of singing.

 

 As a rule, I don’t care for prog rock and jazz fusion (both big genre in the ‘70s) at all and the only somewhat prog band I favour, if indeed they fall in that category, is Pink Floyd because the music is more standard rock, with intriguing lyrics, than the stuff of, say, Yes or Genesis.

 

I’ve recently listened to the Genesis albums of the Gabriel era in sequence  and this experience has reinforced my assessment of the music and of my attitude towards it.  It might be the top echelon of composed rock music  intricately arranged and with thoughtful, thought provoking, poetic lyrics, but it’s still music  I’ll never listen to again because there is no visceral excitement or enjoyment to be had, other than the simple intellectual appreciation of the effort. 

 

I’ve also realised that Peter Gabriel and Phil Collins’ voices are rather similar, though the irritation factor on Collins is higher than that of Gabriel.

 

One of UK punk’s tenets was that it came to destroy “dinosaur rock” with endless guitar solos and drum solos, and if early Genesis is powered by keyboards and not so much my guitar, I would imagine that it was as  much a dinosaur as anyone of their peer group.  Punk didn’t succeed in killing prog rock, though it became  considerably less fashionable than it had been in the early to mid-‘70s, mostly because the hardcore prog fans were fanatically loyal and no doubt sneered at punk rock for the technical shortcomings of the punk musicians. It seems, to this day, that there are many people, probably those who  got into prog rock when they were in their teens, who still dote on and champion prog rock, and not only the classic bands but also more contemporary practitioners.  My own tastes run to more basic, simple rock and I don’t think I will ever like prog rock. I suppose one’s musical tastes are formed by the bands or acts you like when you are a teenager and in my case that’s true, not so much for the bands but the style of music and I don’t care for music I must appreciate intellectually rather than with my gut.    Genesis doesn’t make the kind of music that brings a stupid grin to my face and makes me want no get up and dance awkwardly.

The MC5 motors on

 

There is quite a bit of material on the MC5 on YouTube, from documentaries to clips of live performances and some full shows.

 

My favourite MC5 clips are two songs at Tartar Field in 1970, where they perform “Rambling Rose” and “Kick Out the Jams” and a longer set recorded for the German rock music show Beat Club in 1972, presumably during their European tour of that year.

 

The Tartar Field show features a blistering rendition of “Rambling Rose” during which guitarist Wayne Kramer, whose song this is, puts on a real show for what seems to be a small audience, but Rob Tyner en Fred ‘Sonic’ Smith also are no slouches at throwing rock ‘n roll shapes.  The two songs give us a brief glimpse of what the powerful, incendiary force the  MC5 must’ve been on stage in their heyday.

 

The Beat Club performance is filmed in brilliant, high-definition colour against a blue screen probably because of the Beat Club producers’ penchant for psychedelic backgrounds to these kinds of shows. Rob Tyner wears a bright, spangly jacket and Wayne Kramer sports a slightly oversized green spangly jacket. This must be their homage to glam rock.

 

The band does a short “festival” set of their best-known tracks, mostly from Kick Out the Jams, in less high energy fashion than the Tartar Field clip, but still with a lot of power and one is always impressed with how they play. It’s a pity that the band seems to have rarely performed anything off High Time, the final studio album, and therefore repeated the same set lists drawn from the first two records.

 

Currently, Wayne Kramer is the only founding member of the MC5 who still performs, seeing as how Tyner, Fred ‘Sonic’ Smith and Michael Davis have died, and drummer Denis Thompson doesn’t seem to be as active, and Kramer has led various incarnations of the MC5, under that name, or as MC50 or We Are All MC5, with various different musicians.

 

Nowadays, Kramer is a bald, middle class looking guy in stark contrast to the rock ‘n rebel looks of the first coming of the MC5 though his socio-political views remain pretty much the same. He’s had a solo career but presumably never became more popular than the MC5, not commercially successful at the time but increasingly influential amongst musicians and the hip, and now, in line with so many acts from the ‘60’s and ‘70s who’ve realised how much money there was still to be made from playing to their old fanbase, now as old the band members, and the occasional younger, new convert, Kramer can cash in on the huge  name the MC5 has in rock history. The pity is that he  can draw on only  three albums’ worth of music, and perhaps some unreleased tunes, which makes for good times if you’re a fan and want to hear the classic tunes from those classic albums but seems a bit sad to me.

 

The band performing as We Are All MC5 are obviously proficient and can rock as hard as anybody, but none of them are in their early twenties anymore, with none of the brio, arrogance and simple energy the MC5 would’ve had back in the late ‘60s or very early ‘70s and for most part they do sound like an MC5 tribute band, with a contemporary rock sound,  rather than the real thing.

 

The cliché is that so many now famous bands claim that they never thought it could happen, never imagined that they could have a career lasting beyond about 5 years and, like Mick Jagger, didn’t think they would be, or would want to be, in the rock and roll game at the age of 30 or beyond. However, many, many bands have had very long careers, with varying degrees of success and generally a reduction in popular profile and record sales to boot, but are still able to tour, if they want, and to play to audiences all over the world and make a decent living, provided the live set contains all hits and the crowd pleasers. These bands have become brands and own the commercially viable Intellectual Property of their songs, and why shouldn’t they exploit these opportunities?  So what, if Wayne Kramer must play and sing  “Rambling Rose” every night and repeat “Kick Out the Jams,”  “Motor City is Burning,”  “The American Ruse,” “Looking At You” and  “Tonight” at every gig. The paying audiences want to hear those tunes.

 

As I’ve said, the Tartar Field clip is the best MC5 I’ve seen, with the Beat Club show second, but other than that, I’d rather just listen to the records than watch and listen to the more contemporary shows that can’t replicate the freshness and sharpness of those albums.

 

Frumpy

  

Frumpy came to my attention during a period when I watched a series of YouTube videos featuring or showcasing German rock of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, the so-called Krautrock years. Unlike the experimental Can, the ethereal Tangerine Dream, the anarchic Amon Düül II, the brutal jazz-rock of Birth Control, the metronomic electronics of Kraftwerk or the experimentalism of Neu! and Faust, Frumpy seemed to be a pretty enjoyable, straightforward blues rock band with progressive urges, from the video examples,  and I paid them no more attention.

 

Recently, also on YouTube, I came across a Rockpalast (the German WDR television service’s premier live rock show) presentation of a documentary about Frumpy’s lead singer, Inga Rumpf, called My Life is a Boogie.  Not only did I learn that she had quite a career before Frumpy but also well beyond it, but I also learnt that she has a solid grounding in blues and gospel, hence her vocal style.  Frumpy was also a band that obviously aimed at an audience well beyond Germany, with Rumpf singing in English.

 

Frumpy was relatively short-lived in its first incarnation, was more popular in Germany than anywhere else and released three studio albums and a live album.  There are also two compilation albums of that first period.  The band reunited, with only Rumpy, Kravetz and Bohn,  in 1990 and released two studio albums, with a crowd of additional musicians, and a live album with a smaller core band.

 

Of course, the earlier albums are very much of their time and probably somewhat dated but they are quite good, and with some tunes  being quite excellent, and Rumpf elevates any song she touches.  Frumpy may not have had much international success because it was simply selling American style rock to the English language community, which had plenty of similar bands already, but I believe that Frumpy is a cut above most of their contemporaries and should’ve had more success and Inga Rumpf should’ve been an international star.

 

 

 

 

All Will Be Changed (1970)

Tracks: 

1. Life Without Pain             (3:50)
2. Rosalie, Part 1                 (6:00)
3. Otium                                 (4:22)
4. Rosalie, Part 2                 (4:14)
5. Indian Rope Man             (3:19)
6. Morning                             (3:24)
7. Floating, Part 1                (7:39)
8. Baroque                            (7:36)
9. Floating, Part 2                (1:25)

Bonus tracks on reissues:

10. Roadriding                      (4:02)
11. Time Makes Wise          (2:49)

 

The debut album is performed by an instrumental trio of keyboards (mostly electronic organ) (Jean-Jacques Kravetz), bass ) (Karl-Heinz Schott)  and drums (Carsten Bohn), with Inga Rump as lead vocalist.  I guess you’d call it heavy, progressive blues rock with some tunes, such as early hit “Indian Rope Man.”

 

“Rosalie, Pt 1 -  Otium - Rosalie Pt 2” and “Floating, Pt1 -Baroque - Floating, Pt, 2” are two sets of suites with extended instrumental passages, mostly organ, and even a drum solo in the second one. These are obviously the progressive heart of the record which would otherwise be a more orthodox blues rock outing.  The three instrumentalists all have a chance to shine and one doesn’t miss the absence of guitars;  Schott is a very agile, versatile and rhythmically solid yet melodic bassist.

 

Opening track “Life Without Pain” is a rousing, gospel rock track that one can see as a concert highlight, en penultimate track, “Roadriding” features heavy guitar by an uncredited guitarist.

 

“Roadriding” and “Time Makes Wise” are bonus tracks on CD releases.

 

 

Frumpy 2 (1971)

Tracks: 

1. Good Winds                                 (10:02)
2. How The Gipsy Was Born         (10:05)
3. Take Care Of Illusion                  (7:30)
4. Duty                                                           (12:09)

Rainer Baumann comes into the line-up as guitarist.

 

The album has four tracks (presumably two a side of a conventional single LP), of which three clock in at 10 minutes or longer and the shortest track is seven and a half minutes.

 

“How the Gypsy Was Born,” “Take Care of Illusion” and “Duty” seem to have become concert staples.

 

The immediate impression is that the production smooths out some of the edges of the debut, is slightly muddier  and reduces the volume and the power. I suppose this is what one calls becoming more sophisticated.

 

“Good Winds” is more elegiac, psychedelic groove opener than the bravura of “Life Without Pain” from the debut and sets the tone for the extended pieces that follow.

 

“How the Gypsy  Was Born” sounds like an instant classic, with Rumpf’s fragile, brittle, soulful yet powerful vocals front and centre, plenty of hooks and excellent lyrics. Two Baumann solos are overdubbed to create a twin lead guitar effect.  Kravetz is still the dominant, star soloist, though.

 

“Take Care of Illusion” and “Duty” pale a bit by comparison but both are excellent examples of psychedelic, experimental Frumpy, with the latter tune an examination of a possibly characteristic event (parents turning in their deserting son) of Nazi Germany during World War II.

 

 

By the Way (1972)

Tracks: 

1. Goin' To The Country     (3:40)
2. By The Way                      (8:51)
3. Singing Songs                  (7:02)
4. I'm Afraid Big Moon         (6:25)
5. Release                             (8:50)
6. Keep On Going                (5:25)

 

Erwin Kania plays additional keyboards on the record.

 

“Goin’ to the Country” is a lively blues stomper with slide guitar and rollicking piano and it’s as good an up-tempo opener as “Life Without Pain” is on All Will Be Changed,  and by far the shortest track of the 6 on the record.  

 

Both the title track and “Release” are almost 9 minutes long,   and three other tracks are respectively longer than 5, 6 and 7 minutes.

 

The title track is a jazzy-prog, grand philosophical rumination and most connected to the style of the debut album, while “Singing Songs” is about the equally philosophical reflections of a musician on stage, musing about the relationship between performer and audience, and the first of the rousing four final tracks that emphasise the blues and soul roots of the song writing and Rumpf’s vocal style, and are the engaging kind of songs that hooks one in to the band. 

 

There were many progressive hard rock bands, and many German rock bands, of the early to mid-‘70s who ploughed the same instrumental and conceptual furrow as Frumpy, but none of them had the ultimate weapon of Inga Rumpf as vocalist.  

 

 

Frumpy Live (1973)

Tracks:

1. Keep On Going                (12:06)
2. Singing Songs                  (8:54)
3. Backwater Blues              (4:56)
4. Duty                                   (17:35)
5. To My Mother                   (11:34)
6. Release                             (22:00)
7. Take Care Of Illusion      (8:54)
8. Duty                                   (7:33)
9. Floating                             (12:14)

"Duty" and "Floating"  are bonus tracks on later versions of the album, having been previously released in 1970. 

 

Live is a great, rip-roaring mid-‘70s memento of Frumpy’s signature style of psychedelic blues-rock, with plenty tracks to stretch out on and jam, with accomplished musicians on top of their game and fully capable of improvising at length yet  still keeping it interesting and compelling. I suppose it’s a snapshot of the typical underground, progressive rock  band of the time. Rumpf’s soulful, blues inflected vocals are always worth the price of admission on any Frumpy release and she’s in her element here, communicating and connecting with her audience.

 

For some inexplicable reason, “How the Gypsy was Born,” Frumpy’s most identifiable hit, isn’t featured.  

 

xxx

 

I don’t know what the three ‘90s albums sound like but my guess is that they would be considerably different to the ‘70s band, if only for the mass of contributing musicians, and with considerably less charm.  After Frumpy first broke up,  Rumpf went on to front Atlantis, a typical mid- to late ‘70s AOR that sought, unsuccessfully, to find a break in the USA but this band was truly selling ice to Eskimos and the product, however technically proficient the musicianship, has nothing like the power and charm of full-throttle Frumpy.

 

Inga Rumpf: An appreciation

 

I first came to know of Inga Rumpf as lead singer for Frumpy, one of the early ‘70s German rock bands loosely lumped together with the broad group of  Krautrock bands, though never included in the core “experimental” bands such as Can, Kraftwerk, Tangerine Dream, Neu!, Popol Vuh, and others of that ilk.  Frumpy was a blues rock band with a strong female vocalist, one of the few woman in the Deutsch rock of the era.

 

The news, to me, was that Inga Rumpf had a completely different earlier career, from a very young age, before Frumpy, though some of it would’ve been, so to speak, the training period for the band. In her earlier career she sang folk and Black gospel songs, either as solo act or as part of a group, the City Preachers, and even, briefly, was groomed to be a schlager (anodyne German pop) singer but this potentially commercially profitable direction was not to her taste or inclination, which was to go on weird, interesting and challenging tangents and not necessarily to follow the path expected of her, or young women singers in Germany at the time.  

 

Rumpf has a wonderful, powerful and expressive voice, perfect for expressing the emotion in blues and soul songs. One wonders, if she were an American, if she’d have followed a Janis Joplin-like curve of success or whether her career would have been more similar to that of Lydia Pense, the lead singer of Cold Blood, a band that followed the Kozmic Blues Band approach to horn driven soul rock, and Pense’s voice, if one weren’t paying attention, was a ringer for Joplin.  Cold Blood was well-known enough to be one of the bands that played the final shows at the Filmore East before it closed, but never achieved mainstream success. The thing is, Pense still has a career, some 50 years after Joplin died.  Inga Rumpf has also had a long and varied career, in Germany and internationally, without becoming a superstar yet has survived intact and with a back catalogue of intriguing, highly entertaining records.

 

Rumpf went from Frumpy to Atlantis, a heavier aggregation that toured the USA, and supported some big names, but weren’t prepared to put in the hard work of conquering a vast country and probably didn’t have proper record company support either. By die late ‘70s Rumpf, with a curly contemporary perm replacing the long straight hair of the hippie years, attempted a solo pop rock career and in the ‘80s she cut her hair modishly short, wore the highly identifiable fashion of the times and followed and electronic pop and rock direction, and switched from writing and singing in English to writing and singing in German, all of it clearly aimed at maximum commercial success, before returning to the  (English) blues and gospel music with which she started her career for the balance of her life. in a way it is a typical career path of so many of her contemporaries on the British and US rock scene where artists and bands who came to prominence in the ‘60s struggled to adapt to the times when they hit their thirties and forties. By and large the ‘80s were not a good decade for the music of these older artists who changed their original sound according to contemporary production styles and dressed in contemporary fashion, very little of which matched the stylishness of mid-‘60s fashion, never mind the rock star satin and tat of the  glam ‘70s.

 

Rumpf went through the same cycle and then returned to her roots where she was most comfortable and appealing to her audience.

 

If Rumpf had been born in the USA or had been prepared to move there to push her career forward, she might well have been a household name there, something like Bonnie Raitt (Rumpf sings, play bottleneck slide guitar and writes her own songs) for, after all, one of the highlights of her career is that Tina Turner recorded one of Rumpf’s songs and released it as a B-side of a successful single.  As it is, Rumpf may be well-known in her homeland but is no more than a footnote to rock cognoscenti elsewhere, if they were interested in German rock music, and one would imagine has a comfortable life performing when she wants to and intermittently releasing records, secure in her place in the world and without a need to be a superstar.  She sounds authentic when she speaks and when she sings. 

 

On Apple Music, Frumpy is represented solely by a compilation album but there are quite a few solo, so to speak, Rumpf albums, such as collections of her early blues and gospel recordings, with the City Preachers amongst others, and more recent music.  For some peculiarly amusing reason Atlantis’ eponymous debut album from 1973 is combined with the albums of what looks like a typical schlager combo.

 

Frumpy’s style is typical of the heavy, organ dominated  German bands of the Krautrock era, with Rumpf’s strong bluesy vocals front and centre.  Atlantis is more progressive, more jazzy and less heavy and somehow less tuneful than Frumpy. The electronic organ sound of Frumpy is replaced by synthesisers and an anodyne AOR sound. Rumpf’s unique voice is the only common denominator and seems wasted in Atlantis where none of the songs stand out.

 

As often the case, YouTube is the forum for the rest of the Frumpy albums, including the excellent Frumpy Live from 1972, showcasing a groove-based blues rock band, with long jams and Rumpf’s powerful, slightly hoarse, soulful vocals.  A Frumpy concert must have been an experience and I’m surprised that this band didn’t try to make it in the USA, rather than the more banal Atlantis.  Frumpy would’ve have done well supporting, for example, the Allman Brothers Band or Lynyrd Skynyrd. Surprisingly, the signature song,  “How the Gypsy was Born” isn’t featured on this live set.  

 

Someone in the Rockpalast documentary explains the failure of Frumpy and/or Atlantis to make it in the USA, in addition to the lack of enthusiasm for spending years on the touring circuit there, that it would be like exporting ice to the Eskimos for a German band  hoping to make it in the USA by playing American style rock.  I can’t see why Frumpy would not have made it, if they were prepared to put in the work. Their music was not esoteric Krautrock but had enough blues, soul and groove,  not to mention extended organ and guitar solos, to appeal to the American heartland,  and if the Southern rock bands could do it, Frumpy could do it too.

 

I don’t know, but I hope Inga Rumpf has made at least a comfortable living from her musical career, in all its variations, and is kind of famous in Germany, if not all over the world. She writes good songs and has a marvellous voice,  and deserves  huge success and acclaim but perhaps, ultimately, she was more interested and found satisfaction in following her own, idiosyncratic path rather than pander to crass commercial interests.

 

Rock writers fawn over the Krautrock royalty of Can, Kraftwerk, Tangerine Dream, Neu! and the few other bands generally referred to in that context, but Inga Rumpf deserves as much attention and as many kudos.

 

In Memoriam: Tom Verlaine

                                                         IN MEMORIAM: TOM VERLAINE

13 December 1949  to 28 January 2023

 

There was an article by, I think, Lisa Robinson, in the August 1975 issue of Hit Parader magazine, the first rock publication I ever bought, and the first publication if bought regularly, with the NME following after that, about the then newly revived and vibrant New York scene, which mentioned, among other bands, Talking Heads, Blondie, the Ramones, Television and The Heartbreakers. There was also an article by Charles Shaar Murray about the UK music scene, mostly about Led Zeppelin, but that also was the first mention in print I read of Dr Feelgood.

 

For me and my musical education, that was a seminal issue of Hit Parader.

 

As I recall, the mention of Television in the piece was really about Richard Hell having left the band and forming The Heartbreakers with Johnny Thunders (ex- New York Dolls) and though I got the impression that Tom Verlaine and Hell were two prime movers of the scene and that Television was quite important as breaking the ground for the scene, there was no more information than that.

 

NME gave the debut album, Marquee Moon (1977), an effusively enthusiastic review, rating it as a masterpiece, and was considerably less in awe of the follow up Adventure (1978), and this has been the conventional view since, although some critics have reassessed Adventure  and now rate it highly too.

 

Marquee Moon has one of the most iconic, highly recognisable album covers ever.

 

I only bought a CD copy of Marquee Moon in the late ‘90s, and was quite impressed with it, but I did buy Verlaine’s solo debut, Tom Verlaine,  (after a very positive review in NME) in 1979 and was hugely enthralled by it. It has the same tough, angular sound as Television’s music yet is also quite melodic and funny and weird in places.  Around this time, I also bought Richard Lloyd’s even more pop-influenced and tuneful debut solo album, but where it is the kind of sweet confection that paled after a while, and about which I no longer feel as keen as I did then, Verlaine’s album is as strong and enjoyable as ever even after a lengthy period of not having heard it all. I would say I like it even better than Marquee Moon.

 

Adventure is more reflective, less exuberant and smoother in sound than the debut album, but there is still plenty strong, sharp, innovative guitar interplay and, if it’s not as impressive at first exposure as Marquee Moon, it’s mostly down to brilliant surprise of the debut; the band certainly didn’t set out to make Marquee Moon II.  Adventure rewards repeated listening.

 

The second solo album, Dreamtime (1980) is more angular, tougher and in a way less approachable than Tom Verlaine, as if he were reaching for a more extreme, less appealing,  way of expressing himself,  but it’s identifiably the work of the same visionary who wrote the songs on Marquee Moon.

 

Verlaine, Hell and Television are credited with opening up the late ‘70s New York scene and spearheading the wave of new acts, though not being quite punk themselves,  that influenced and inspired the UK punk movement of 1976 and 1977. Where the UK bands were of a piece, the important New York bands (Television, Talking Heads, Blondie, Ramones, The Heartbreakers) were very diverse in aims, approach and sound. On the face of it, Television was the most daring and least commercial of them all, and broke up, for the first time, after only two records, though there was a comeback in the early ‘90s, but nonetheless have had a reach and influence far beyond 1978, and the twin factors of the clever interplay of the two guitarists and Verlaine’s song writing have an enduring progressive otherworldliness that have not dated.   

 

Television wasn’t just another punk band and Verlaine wasn’t just another post punk singer-songwriter. There was enough quirky intelligence and off-kilter weirdness to sustain his reputation as innovator yet his ambitions were clearly artistic and not particularly commercial.  Talking Heads, and their offshoots, and Blondie, for example, both were far more successful than Verlaine ever was but his reputation remains untarnished and his influence reverberates still.

 

 

Two contrasting versions of Dr Feelgood in concert

 

Last night I watched two contrasting videos of Dr Feelgood in concert. The one show was at the Southend Kursaal venue, with the original quartet including Wilko Johnson, and the other show was at an unnamed venue in Berlin in 1980 for the WDR television station’s Rockpalast series, and features Gypie Mayo, the guitarist  who replaced Wilko Johnson when the latter left the band in 1977.

 

The immediate impression is that the first show is powerful and showcases a band at the peak of its powers, and the lighting is intimate and almost “arty,” and that the second show is of a band, coasting on previous reputation, that has already become a pedestrian, journeyman like shell of its original incarnation. The Berlin show  is well lit, where the Kursaal show seems a tad dim at times, but this only exposes the professional, yet soulless performance even more.

 

The sound of the Kursaal show is also more organic and, dare one say,  in unifying mono and positively roars out of the PA system, where the Berlin show has much better, cleaner and somehow more sterile sound quality and one can clearly differentiate between John B Sparks’ powerful bass lines and Mayo’s scratchy, trebly and funky guitar playing, and the conclusion is that the rhythm section of Sparks and The Big Figure is what drives the band at that point.  At the 1975 show, Wilko’s choppy guitar style is an integral element of the sound and the combination of the three instruments empowers the music to a visceral high, audible even on the video, whereas the Berlin show is not nearly as engaging or exciting.

 

Obviously, the earlier gig features that Feelgoods classics of the time, with the original songs written by Wilko Johnson, of the first two albums. At the later gig, the band can draw on material from four albums without Johnson (Be Seeing You to A Case of the Shakes)    and perform only two songs from the Johnson period, “Back in the Night” (which he wrote), a Lee Brilleaux slide guitar showcase, and “Riot in Cellblock Number 9,” a riotous showstopper.   Johnson’s songs, some of the best  modern R & B  tunes around, are far superior to the later material, worthy as those songs might be, mostly because of his wittier style of writing and the relentless choppy riffing accompanying them.  Between Brilleaux and Mayo, and the others too, perhaps,  they could write serviceable songs and lyrics that are  okay, but tunes are lacking and somehow it seems as if Brilleaux’s vocal abilities deteriorated as he got older and he relied on barking out the lyrics more than singing them. The live setting exposes the  limitations of songs that seemed better than this in their studio versions, and the band, which pretty much plays the songs as written can’t elevate the tunes on stage.  Gypie Mayo may be a good guitarist but there is nothing about his playing that makes him stand out for thousands of other guitarists in the same genre. With Wilko Johnson, the band not only had excellent songs but also a unique, highly recognisable sound one could identify after the first few notes.  Once Wilko left, Dr Feelgood never sounded anything other than ordinary.

 

The Berlin show is by a band of competent, professional musicians who know their craft and their style inside out but lack the spark of genius and intrigue that Wilko Johnson provided.  Because they’re a name band, and had a hit with “Milk & Alcohol,” Dr Feelgood could fill large halls like the one in Berlin in 1980 when they were just on the cusp of losing whatever glamour they’d ever had and finally reverting to just another jumped up pub rock band. The Wilko Johnson era provided the reputation and set the band up for life and they never equalled or improved on that period.

 

I’d much rather have been at the Kursaal than at the Berlin gig.

 

 

Deutsche Rock

 

Krautrock is a generic term used to bundle together and characterise mostly experimental, avant garde German rock bands from the late ‘60s to late ‘70s, that employed a fusion of classical music, jazz,  electronica  and rock, trying to create a rock sub-genre that owed as little as possible to the blues and the accepted norms of rock from the USA or the UK. The Krautrock bands wanted to utilise ad display a German  sensibility.

 

I first took note of Krautrack from the NME (in the period 1977 to 1981) whose writers emphasised the big names such as Can, Tangerine Dream, Popol Vuh, Faust, Kraftwerk, Neu! and Amon Düül II, that is, the avant garde or highly political bands.

 

From this list, it seemed to me at the time that were only a few German rock bands, which is what made these bands unique and interesting beyond merely the music they produced.

 

I did take note of the Köln band BAP, who sang in the Kölnisch dialect, and later some of the bands of the Neue Deutsche Welle, like Nena,  who were obviously a reaction to the punk and Ne2 Wave bands from the UK in the late ‘70s but who were hardly Krautrock. The latter appeared to be quite at odds with mainstream rock, a small coterie of experimentalists who fought against the system.

 

Of course, at the time, I had no exposure to these ‘70s German bands, as they weren’t played on South African rock radio much. In an early episode of a German police procedural television series, called Tatort, dubbed into Afrikaans  and translated as Misdaad for the South African audience, there was a long stretch of dark, night-time and suspenseful imagery set to the soundtrack of a gloomy, doomy trancelike piece of rock music, like nothing else I’d ever heard on radio or television and my imagination persuaded me that this was Krautrock.  I must admit I’ve not really done a lot of research into trying to find or identify this piece of music and it might not have been German at all.

 

So, though I knew of Can,  Tangerine Dream and Popol Vuh, I had no idea what any of it sounded like. The closest I came was to a double LP called Disaster by Amon Düül, which consisted of acoustic guitar and percussion jams, with the odd vocal interjection.  It was very disappointing, as there seemed to be nothing avant garde or intriguing about it.  It sounded like a bunch of people in a room, messing about and making a home recording.

 

At about the same time, a sales guy at Sygma Records in Stellenbosch tried to interest me in an album by some German jazz rock quartet (saxophone, organ or guitar, bass and drums) on a record with one lengthy track on each side. I listened to a couple of minutes of the first track and decided against buying this record. The music wasn’t entirely what I was into at the time and, though I lived long rock jams, it seemed to be less than value for money to buy a record with only two numbers on it.  I’ve no idea anymore who the band was, and though I’ve always thought of them as German, I might be mistaken about that too. it was a long time ago and I didn’t pay particular attention then.

 

My general ignorance about Krautrock  changed a couple of years ago when, on YouTube, of course, I came across two compilation videos called Deutschrock – Nacht 1 and Deutschrock – Nacht 1, a series of complete programmes of a West German  television show from the late ‘60s to mid-‘70s called Beat Club, that featured well-known British and American rock acts of the day as well as home grown bands,  and a very good, German documentary about Krautrock.  There are other Krautrock documentaries, mostly produced by UK or American based entities, but they concentrate on the “big” names and still endeavour to present a picture of a small, brave, adventurous group of musicians striking a blow for original German rock, which is a skewed, incomplete picture of the German music scene.

 

What I learnt from these YouTube videos is that the German rock was quite extensive. There were many bands who obviously targeted an international audience  by singing in English, and who  played the typical hard rock or psychedelic styles of the period, and as many who sang in German and, as I’ve mentioned, fused jazz and classical influences and who therefore sound more exotic.

 

Just off the top of my head, these other names come up: Birth Control, Guru Guru, Kraan,  Frumpy, Jane, Eloy, Xhol Caravan. It seems that many of them favoured a heavy organ sound (not synthesisers), with energetic drumming, agile bass lines, mostly rhythm guitar and, either or both, saxophone and flute and liked extended pieces heavy on atmosphere and groove but not necessarily tune, though a band like Frumpy, fronted by Inga Rumpf, clearly had a commercial agenda informed by a combination of Jefferson Airplane and Janis Joplin.

 

There are also the metal bands like Scorpions, Aksept and others who clearly aim for, and represent, the international, commercial ambitions of any serious musician, and I suppose none of them, patterned after the prominent British and American metal acts, would ever have been included in any definition of Krautrock even if they originated in Germany. 

 

German rock music of the “Krautrock era” is obviously more diverse than Kraftwerk, Tangerine Dream, Can or Popol Vuh, even if the electronic experimentalists are accorded the most critical attention and praise. As in any musical scene, the artists are a mixture of ambitious, commercially driven acts and the ones who do exactly what they want, out of the mainstream and with no real thought of financial success, at least not until they, too, are eventually absorbed into the mainstream as times and tastes change.

 

If Krautrock encompasses by definition only those well-known and critically acclaimed  bands like Tangerine Dream or Can,  it seems to me that it is simply a music writer’s lazy way of dealing with a subject that is far more complex. One can argue that the British or American rock writers, who monopolise the literary criticism of popular music, were perhaps confined to only those acts from Germany who had international releases or seemed to be more esoteric, intellectual and revolutionary than the mainstream German rock scene, and ignored the rest, and decreed that these outsider bands, even if Tangerine Dream and Popol Vuh were acceptable enough to score movie soundtracks, were the only German bands worth considering and/or liking.  Anyone who wants to make a relatively short documentary on Krautrock must perforce focus on fewer musicians and for this reason alone, the emphasis will always be on the same small group of bands, to the detriment of exploring what was a much larger scene with far more diverse music.  Most historians simply follow and reiterate previous history writing and this is how rock critics work too. There are certain conventional wisdoms and accepted, widely held “truths” that are continuously reinforced by repetition, as if  no contemporary rock critic is prepared to apply their own faculties and critical examination of the work in front of them, to determine whether the assessments and opinions of their forebears has merit.   Hence, Krautrock being limited to a few usual suspects.

 

Deutsche rock is varied and wide ranging, and often so truly Germanically strange that it does sound like an invention with only a vague nod to the common rock roots we’ve grown up with, and is fascinating for that very reason, whether you’re into electronic soundscapes or free from jazz noisiness.

 

 

 

 

 

Bleached: Nirvana again

  

BLEACHED: NIRVANA AGAIN

 

 

 

I bought Bleach (1989) a couple of months before Nevermind (1991)  was released.  “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was already on the radio I really liked it and, having read about Nirvana long before they became famous, and in particular about Bleach, I thought I’d start there because I was a fan of late ‘70s punk and my perception that Nirvana followed in those footsteps.

 

My recollection of my first impression of Bleach was that it was a blast of harsh, unpleasant noise, obviously noting like “Teen Spirit” but also nothing like the kind of punk rock I was used to. At the time I knew nothing about American hardcore punk, at least I’d never heard any of the important records, and wasn’t used to punk that wasn’t melodic, even if subtly so. Nirvana hurt my ears and I hardly played Bleach more than a few times.

 

I bought Nevermind as soon as it was available at Ragtime Records  in Cape Town and was mildly disappointed. “Teen Spirit” was and is the standout track for me and the so-called punk rock of the rest of the album seemed one dimensional, unimaginative and mediocre. I couldn’t fathom why rock writers raved about the record, and I still don’t, and also not why it sold in its millions, other than off the lead single’s pop impact.

 

Truth be told, I’ve probably not listened to Nevermind any more than I’ve listened to Bleach and it’s not a record I listen to much now.

 

In Utero (1994) is, to my mind, superior to Nevermind, because it has better songs and is far tougher in musical approach. This is where Nirvana peaked.

 

I’ve now listened to Bleach again, because it came up as a recommendation on Apple Music and was surprised to find that it’s not the harsh noise I’ve always thought it was. The production is not as good as that of In Utero (the lack of money, I guess) and there is a difference in quality of the song writing too, but there is a seamless transition from the one album to the other, with Nevermind being the aberration, no doubt because of the slick, radio friendly production that was intended to maximise its commercial potential. With Bleach, Nirvana did not concern itself with commercial potential and with In Utero, the band was in a position to make the record it wanted to make and to return to its “roots,” I suppose.

 

Whatever, nevermind, I think Bleach is a bloody good little record, very much what I’d expect from a punk revivalist or proto-grunge pioneer, with pop nous and high energy, and I’ll return it to my collection.

 

 

In Memoriam: Jeff Beck

 IN MEMORIAM: JEFF BECK

24 June 1944 to 10 January 2023

 

 

Jeff Beck is probably the one highly rated guitarist who came to prominence in the ‘60s that I’ve never gotten into, in his various incarnations.  My introduction to him was “Hi Ho Silver Lining,” which I thought of as a nice enough, lightweight psychedelic pop song but no more. I knew he’d replaced Eric Clapton in The Yardbirds and by the late ‘70s I  knew he’d turned to jazz rock with Blow by Blow (1975) and Wired (1976) and this completely turned me off him because at that time  in my teens, and thereafter, I had as much a dislike for jazz fusion styles as I had for prog rock.

 

My first real exposure to Beck’s early guitar style was on a compilation of tracks by The Yardbirds, some featuring Clapton and some featuring Beck. I thought the latter tunes were terrible, self-conscious White blues or proto psychedelic rock with little nous. Beck’s guitar playing was the only redeeming factor but it was hardly mind-blowing and, frankly, I preferred Clapton.

 

It was many years before I heard the Roger the Engineer album in full and could appreciate that iteration of the band more as well as what Beck brought to the mix.

 

Mostly, though, Beck was a musician I read about a lot, and realised how highly he was regarded in the music business amongst fellow musicians but also amongst rock writers.  None of the album reviews, though, suggested to me that I’d want to buy any of his albums, as my impression was that he stuck to jazz rock and AOR styles that had never appealed to me.

 

By the time I finally got to listen to Truth (1968), Beck-ola (1969), Rough and Ready (1971) and Jeff Beck Group (1972), I already knew Cream and the early Led Zeppelin albums well, and Beck’s records paled in comparison. The blues rock wasn’t tough enough for me and Rod Stewart just didn’t hack it as either blues or rock vocalist, and the Jeff Beck Group’s attempts at funkiness and soul sounded forced and anaemic.

 

And that was that. Now, after hearing about his death, I’m listening to the stuff I never bothered with back in the day, and I’m still not convinced.  The records might have made more of an impression on me when they were current releases and I was far younger but on whole my musical tastes haven’t changed materially and I probably wouldn’t have spent much time on Beck  then either.

 

Beck, Bogert & Appice (1973) isn’t bad but it isn’t more than merely pleasant either. For all the talent here, the music isn’t intriguing and the overall feel of the album is no different to so much indifferent hard rock of this era. Even more than prog rock, this style of proficient, indolent rock was the music punk was intended to destroy.

 

Blow by Blow and Wired pretty much sound like I suspected they would: top session musicians, technically very capable, playing at the top of their games, producing a product that is intellectually admirable but has no visceral impact and no emotional appeal, and is fit just for back ground play or as soundtrack music.  If I don’t even appreciate much now, so many years older, it would’ve done nothing for me when I was a kid.  If I must listen to this style of rock, I’d much rather listen to Frank Zappa.

 

On Crazy Legs (1993) Beck collaborated with The Big Town Playboys on a rockabilly album where he emulates one of his earliest guitar influences, Cliff Gallup.  It’s good fun, if you like rockabilly, which I do, and Beck is in fine form.

 

Other than these records, I didn’t really want to delve into every Jeff Beck release but I think it’s safe to say I’ll have to resign myself to accept that general critical opinion of Jeff Beck as a master musician yet not find a place for him in my music collection.  What he’s done is just not to my taste, regardless of the quality of the product.   Another good man is gone; one more of the musicians from the ‘60s that I at least knew of, if not admired much, and that gives one pause. A generation is slowly dying out.

 

 

 

 

Wilko Johnson gone solo

 

Just as Dr Feelgood wasn’t the same, and certainly didn’t sound the same, without Wilko’s idiosyncratic guitar style, Wilko’s solo releases generally suffer from the lack of a good vocalist. He too often has a shrill yelping style of singing, which is all right for three or four songs on an album, separated by  songs with a better vocalist but listen to 12 or 14 of them consecutively becomes a teeth gritting challenge to say the least.

 

Wilko  was out of the blocks as solo artist quickly enough, though not as quickly as Dr Feelgood who released an album with new guitarist John Mayo within months after Wilko’s departure, with teh Solid Senders album in 1978. I expect that the band name suggested that it was indeed intended to be a band and not just a solo project but it didn’t last.

 

The Solid Senders featured keyboards, a decent vocalist and songwriters other than Wilko Johnson, and the album is pretty good. The rhythm section swings solidly, like the Feelgoods, and the addition of keyboards and another vocalist to gives us a varied set of originals and covers that Is highly enjoyable and is a more satisfactory follow up to Sneakin Suspicion than Be Seeing You  is and in a way shows a direction Dr Feelgood could’ve explored if sense had prevailed and they’d stuck together. The production is excellent too.

 

In 1981, the follow up was Ice on the Motorway, this time just a Wilko Johnson album with mostly bass and drums backing, and some keyboards, and it’s a great disappointment. The production is basic to say the least, and is almost no better than demo quality, with a disturbingly tinny guitar sound.  The tempos are also much too frenetic and Wilko’s thin, reedy voice is hardly the instrument to carry an entire album. He was good for a couple of songs per album, with Dr Feelgood and with the Solid Senders, but over the stretch it rakes some tolerance.

 

Wilko covers “Can You Please Crawl Through Your Bathroom Window,” “Long Tall Texan” and “I Put a Spell on You.”  He doesn’t bring much of interest to the party for the first two songs and the latter is a live version where he at last emotes the craziness the song demands.

 

There is perhaps a reason why Ice on the Motorway is not available on Apple  Music, and it might be the demo-level quality of the album. I listened to it for the first time on YouTube Music, in the week after Wilko’s death,  and was mildly disappointed.  I suppose it’s a must have for Wilko completists but it’s tough to listen to all at once.

 

Barbed Wire Blues (1995) is quite similar to Ice on the Motorway, with better production and with a more considered pace, yet also with Wilko voice that starts to grate about half way through the record.  One longs for another voice to mitigate the tedium of the continuous bleat. The songs don’t seem to be classics but they’re okay and Wilko’s riffs are as compelling as ever. 

 

With Going Back Home (2014), Wilko teamed up with Roger Daltrey to provide the gruff vocals while Wilko provides the trade mark riffs, and the performances provide a fair resemblance to Dr Feelgood, with 11 songs covering Wilko’s career, both with Dr Feelgood and as solo artist.

 

Amongst other tunes, they perform “Ice on the Motorway” and “Can You Please Crawl Out Your Bathroom Window”.  The production values on Going Back Home is far, far better than that of Ice on the Motorway, and Johnson’s guitar sound is not tinny but  tough and  powerful, as with peak Feelgoods, and  Wilko’s playing is not  with the frenetic nervousness evident on the earlier record, and one can hear what these songs should’ve sounded like in 1981.

 

My only quibble with teh album is that Wilko doesn’t sing at all, not even on songs, like “Sneakin’ Suspicion” or “Everybody’s Carrying a Gun” that I associate with him.  As I’ve said, the Johnson voice and vocal style over the length of an album takes some tolerance but it’s quite nice if he sings two or three of his own tunes to provide a contrast to the main vocalist.

 

I quite like the album though Daltrey, as good as he is, is not a match for Brilleaux on the songs associated with Dr Feelgood, because the song selection is excellent and the band  does them justice with the mixture of toughness and looseness that characterises R & B done well. 

 

Okay, I began listening to the earlier albums after I refreshed my memory with Solid Senders and Going Back Home, first Ice on the Motorway on YouTube and then Barbed Wire Blues on Apple music, which doesn’t carry the entire Wilko Johnson solo catalogue, and halfway through Barbed Wire Blues, I realised that I couldn’t bear to listen to more solo Wilko.  His voice ruins the experience.

 

So, I abandoned this project.  Wilko released a bunch of records over his lifetime, and there might be more stuff in vaults that will now see the light of day, but just as Dr Feelgood never improved  on their first four albums, Wilko never  did either. He ought’ve recruited a good vocalist, not quite a Lee Brilleaux imitator but at least someone who could share vocal duties to mitigate the Wilko yelp.

 

Wilko Johnson has bequeathed us his highly characteristic, quickly identifiable guitar style and some masterful songs in the idiom of modern R & B and blues,  and the latter should live on, both as performed by him with Dr Feelgood and on his own, and perhaps as covered by new generations of young guns who rediscover the blues and its UK offshoots.