TERRELL'S TUNE-UP: Polkaholism and Other Serious Conditions

A version of this was published in The Santa Fe New Mexican 
June 7, 2018

Here is a bunch of crazy rock ’n’ roll records that have been delighting me in recent weeks.

* Polka High by The Polkaholics (self-released). From the land of “Beer, Broads and Brats” (the title of one of their early songs) come this hopped-up, electric “Look Ma, no accordion” polka trio for their first full-length album in a whole decade. This group, led by guitarist, singer, and songwriter “Dandy” Don Hedecker, has a reputation as one of Chicago’s greatest party bands, describing their own sound as “oom pah pow.”

Severe polka purists — I don’t actually know any of these, but I suppose they’re out there — probably hate how The Polkaholics have mutated the genre. And I suppose some serious — or at least self-serious — rockers may dismiss the group (which, in early songs, declared themselves “Polka Enemy Number One” and “The Pimps of Polka” as a novelty act). But who gives a flying darn? Their music is outright infectious. If this be novelty, let us make the most of it.

There isn’t a track on Polka High that doesn’t leave me smiling. But some make me grin wider than others. The boozy, woozy waltz called “My Beer Was Talking to You” is one, as is “Space,” in which the group fantasizes about bringing polka to the final frontier. And the opening track, “Blue Haired Lady,” is a rousing ode to the dream girl of all aging polka lovers.

But best of all is “The Hippies Killed the Polka Stars,” which probably has roots in that old MTV-era song by The Buggles. It’s about how ’60s rock ’n’ roll destroyed polka (“with their long hair and loud guitars”). However, at least in this song, polka is back and those “dirty rotten hippies must pay.” At one point the song becomes a weird battle-of-the-bands of sorts with The Polkaholics alternating between playing some happy polka snippets with familiar old riffs from familiar old rock songs (“In-a-Gadda da Vida” being one of them!), which the “audience” boos.

Yes, most of these are pretty silly. But there’s a serious message here: Don’t discount fun music just because it’s based on something your grandparents thought was fun. Heed these words, my children — and learn to love the polka.

* Unwilling to Explain by Unknown Instructors (Org Music). This band basically is an ’80s indie-rock super group with bassist Mike Watt, formerly of Minutemen and Firehose (and drummer George Hurley of those two bands) along with Dinosaur Jr.’s J. Mascis on guitar and poet Dan McGuire on spoken-word vocals.

It’s a coast-to-coast production with Watt and Hurley recording their parts in their hometown of San Pedro, California, and Mascis adding guitar from a studio in Amherst, Massachusetts, with McGuire doing his parts from Toledo, Ohio. According to a blog post from Watt, McGuire asked Watt to write nine tunes for Hurley and him “to accompany his spiels.” This, he said, is a big difference between the three previous albums, on which, Watt said, the songs were all improvised.

Nevertheless, the music here has a loose, improvisational feel, with McGuire sounding like a coffeehouse beatnik backed by crazy funk-fusion noise.

The Instructors sound most ominous in the slow, intense “Election Day in Satchidananda,” featuring McGuire growling about “piles of corpses” and “the rifle crack at midnight.” The title perhaps is an homage to Alice Coltrane’s classic 1971 avant jazz album with Pharoah Sanders, Journey in Satchidananda. No, it doesn’t sound much like Alice and Pharoah (no harp, sax, or tamboura to start with), but it’s every bit as otherworldly in its own peculiar way.



* Fudge Sandwich by Ty Segall (In the Red Records). This isn’t the first covers album the ever-prolific young Mr. Segall has released. He did one a few years ago called Ty Rex, which consisted of his versions of songs by Marc Bolan and T Rex. That one was dandy, but I like this new one (released late last year) even better. Here, Ty covers songs originally performed by a wide variety of artists from Funkadelic to Neil Young, from L.A. punk rockers The Dils to The Grateful Dead.

You know the album’s going to be wild when it starts off with a take on War’s “Low Rider.” It sounds a lot like some nightmarish song by The Residents, except that Segall’s vocals could almost be Tom Waits auditioning for some doom-metal band.

He’s more faithful to the original version of The Spencer Davis Group’s “I’m a Man” (not to be confused with the Bo Diddley song of the same title) and to John Lennon’s “Isolation,” one of the most harrowing cuts on his album Plastic Ono Band.

His fuzzed-out guitar solo on the stripped-down rendition of Funkadelic’s “Hit It and Quit It” might confound George Clinton devotees. But I do believe that Eddie Haze, Funkadelic’s late original guitarist, would understand and appreciate.

While he’s best known for these guitar ragers, Segall displays his softer acoustical side on a couple of Fudge Sandwich songs, most notably an obscure punk song, The Dils’ “Class War” (which starts off quietly but builds up steam) and a tune called “Pretty Miss Titty,” by proto-prog-punk band Gong. (Segal’s version isn’t all that different from the original.)

At the moment, my favorite Fudge Sandwich song is “Archangel Thunderbird,” originally by Amon Düül II, who, according to AllMusic, was named for a “German art commune whose members began producing improvisational psychedelic rock music during the late ’60s.” I haven’t listened to them much before (I’m amazingly deficient in my knowledge of German art commune rock) but Segall’s tough minimalistic blast — with just a trace of “Louie Louie” — makes me want to learn more about them.

Videos!

Who killed the polka stars?



Hey Hey, we're the Unknown Instructors!



Ty of the Dead

TERRELL'S TUNE-UP: A Buncha Recent Albums

A version of this was published in The Santa Fe New Mexican 
Aug. 30, 2019

So you kids like the rock ’n’ roll? I sure do. Here are several albums that have been making me happy in recent weeks.

* Lost Weekend by Jack Oblivian & The Dream Killers (Black & Wyatt): The man born Jack Yarber was a member of the iconic 1990s garage-punk trio out of Memphis known as The Oblivians. They split up about 20 years ago (though they reunite every so often, and in 2013, released a fantastic album called Desperation).

This album is a collection of tracks that, according to the record company, are mainstays in Jack’s live shows. Most of the songs were recorded in his home studio, which means the sound lacks a polished sheen but is rich in immediacy.

My favorites are the sweaty, urgent minor-key rockers like “Lone Ranger of Love” and “Scarla,” the latter driven by a slithering slide guitar. Then there’s “Boy in a Bubble,” (no, not the Paul Simon song), which starts out, “I was born on the 15th floor/New Year’s Eve in the Psycho Ward …”

I also like the sleazo, jazzy “Guido Goes to Memphis.” Starting out with a soulful electric piano part (which reminds me of the old Hugh Masekela hit “Grazing in the Grass”), the tune just screams “Memphis!”

* First Taste by Ty Segall (Drag City): It seems like only yesterday — actually it was early June — Fudge Sandwich, which consisted of wild covers of songs by the likes of John Lennon, Neil Young, Funkadelic, The Grateful Dead, War, and various obscure punk groups.
when I wrote about the prolific Segall’s album.

The ink was barely dry when he released this new one. (And actually, I recently learned that he released a live record, Deforming Lobes, sometime between Fudge City and this one). The kid’s barely over 30, and he’s driven.

Like Segall’s best work, most the songs on First Taste are fuzzed-out guitar attacks. But he also embellishes his sound with tasteful electronics that never overwhelm the rock, a horn section on the five-minute “Self Esteem,” and on at least a couple of songs, mandolin.

Standouts here include the frantic-paced tune called “The Fall” — funny, The Fall never recorded a song called “Ty Segall” — that includes an actual drum solo; the upbeat “I Sing Them,” where you hear that mandolin as well as what sounds like a crazy flute (though I suspect might actually be some electronically altered sound); and the hard-edged “I Worship the Dog,” a profound statement of religious faith.

* Surrealistic Feast by Weird Omen (Dirty Water): I was trying to figure out what made this hopped-up psychedelic French trio sound so unique. Then I learned that instead of a bass, Weird Omen has a baritone sax player — Fred Rollercoaster — who used to play with King Khan & The Shrines. Along with guitarist-singer Sister Ray (thank you, Lou Reed) and drummer Remi Pablo, Weird O is an aural treat.

The accurately titled “Earworm” is a 100-mile-an-hour blast, as is the hypnotic but muscular “Trouble in My Head.” But the fast-and-loud aesthetic isn’t the only trick Weird Omen knows. “The Goat” starts out slinky and bluesy but soon transmutates into some kind of audio Godzilla stomping on your city.

And in the last song, “I Will Write You Poetry,” the band mines the rich vein of doo-wop in their own peculiar way. I take that as an omen for more weirdness to come from this inventive band.

* Lowdown Ways by Daddy Long Legs (Yep Roc): Here’s a blues-stomping trio who rose from the The Vampire, the one they did with R&B maniac T. Valentine) before moving to their current label.
swamps of backwoods Brooklyn, New York, to create an addictive kind-of-rootsy, kind-of punky sound. Led by a long, tall, full-throated singer, guitarist, and harmonica honker named Brian Hurd (originally from St. Louis), DLL recorded three albums on the venerated Norton Records (four if you include

I was afraid that leaving Norton might detract from Daddy Long Legs’ magic.

Naw. They sound as strong as ever.

Like the best lowdown blues, nothing on this album will make you feel low down. Just about every track here is a delight. I never thought I’d hear a blues tune called “Pink Lemonade,” but there’s one on Lowdown Blues, made especially memorable by Murat Aktürk’s tremolo-heavy guitar licks. Other favorites include “Glad Rag Ball” (in which Hurd invites someone “to meet me in the bathroom stall”); and “Célaphine,” in which Hurd’s harmonica sounds like a zydeco accordion.

* Night Beats Play The Sonics’ ‘Boom’ by Night Beats (Heavenly): I was happy to see this new album by this garage/psychedelic band from Seattle — mainly because they released an album earlier this year called Myth of a Man that was disappointing. It probably was Dan Auerbach’s pop-heavy production, or maybe it was the fact that two of the three members of the band had quit, leaving singer Danny Lee Blackwell alone with a bunch of studio musicians.

So this tribute to the fabled Washington State band from the ’60s was a nice step back to the Night Beats’ roots.

Blackwell succeeded in taking the older group’s sound and giving it his own twist. This especially is obvious on “Don’t You Just Know It.” This is a funky old New Orleans R&B classic originally recorded by Huey “Piano” Smith & The Clowns in 1958. Night Beats mutates it into a mysterioso, minor-key slow-burner.

I’m not claiming this record puts Night Beats in the same stratosphere as The Sonics — who played what I consider to be the greatest rock ‘n’ roll show I’ve ever seen at the Ponderosa Stomp a few years ago. But I have to admire Blackwell for even attempting this.

Video Time!

Hi-Ho it's Jack O



One from Mr. Segall;



Weird Omen gets your goat



Pink Lemonade never tasted better



Night Beats let some good times roll