Friday, January 30, 2015 KSFR, Santa Fe, NM Webcasting!
10 p.m. to midnight Fridays Mountain Time Host: Steve Terrell 101.1 FM
email me during the show! terrel(at)ksfr.org
A version of this was published in The Santa Fe New Mexican Jan. 31, 2015
A couple of months ago, when I first got my copy of It’s All in Your Head, the latest offering by that “culture jamming” audio prankster collective known as Negativland, I realized that this work, packaged in a copy of the Bible, could offend a lot of people. (A collector’s edition of the album comes in a Koran.)
But I didn’t suspect that it could literally be dangerous. However, the murders in Paris of Charlie Hebdo staff members by Islamic extremists outraged by irreverent cartoons reminded me that we live in a world in which satire can get you killed. This makes It’s All in Your Head far more relevant than it was the day I opened it.
The project is a rambling exploration of faith, God, organized religions, and how prevailing attitudes toward matters of the spirit affect us all. The first disc bites into Christianity, while the second mostly takes on Islam.
Using clips borrowed from television; radio; movies; children’s records; sermons; scientific lectures; comedy routines; the group’s trademark electronic blips, bloops, and squalls; and even a few songs you might recognize (among them the Talking Heads’ “Heaven,” Jefferson Starship’s “Miracles,” and “I’ve Gotta Be Me” by Sammy Davis Jr.), Negativland constructs an aural theme-park ride that’s funny, horrifying, educational, emotional, and mystifying — sometimes all at once.
“There is no God!” a man insanely shouts at various points throughout this two-disc extended sound collage. I’m not sure whether this sound clip is from a movie (it reminds me a little of Charlton Heston bellowing “It’s a madhouse!” in the original Planet of the Apes) or if it’s one of the Negativlads yelling. It doesn’t matter. The message is clear. However, a counterpart to that is another sound clip, frequently repeated throughout It’s All in Your Head, in which a different man solemnly says, “Let us have faith.” The voice sounds familiar. I think it might be Richard Nixon.
Anyone who has followed Negativland knows where the group stands. In 1987 the band became notorious for a hilarious track called “Christianity Is Stupid,” in which the words of the title are repeated in an out-of-context sound clip by some blustery preacher.
This album delves deeper. It could be subtitled "All Religions Are Stupid." It’s built around a radio station, It’s All in Your Head FM (“Monotheism, but in stereo”), on the Universal Media Netweb.
For most of the first disc, you hear different voices, sometimes interrupted by the imaginary radio staff, presenting religious arguments. On one side are Christian preachers, country singers, and others arguing against atheism, evolution, same-sex marriage, and so on. On the other side there are anthropologists, scientists, and other critics of religion, basically arguing that Christianity is, well, stupid.
Negativland in Portland, August 2014
The track titled “Alone With Just a Story” features the voice of a man with a British accent (is this the late Christopher Hitchens?) questioning the entire idea of faith.
“It teaches people, especially teaches children, that to believe in something without evidence is a virtue, ,,, I think children should be taught to seek evidence. … You’re taught if you start to have doubts, then you must pray to overcome those doubts. You’re taught that if somebody comes to you with plausible arguments to the contrary, then that’s probably the devil speaking.”
After this, a woman says, “This is really fun because you can make a Jello mold that looks like a brain.”
God bless Negativland!
But in addition to mocking anti-evolution preachers, Negativland also lampoons pro-evolution scientists in what is probably the funniest part of the album: a Firesign Theatre-like track called “Wildlife Tonight.” This is an original piece — not something sampled from radio or TV — in which goofy scientists shave a chimp to prove that apes are related to humans. (“Don’t worry about Cherry, folks, we have a little skirt and sweater for her.”)
The first disc tends to be lighthearted. Poking fun at preachers is a time-honored American comedy tradition, going back before Mark Twain. Even the serious parts seem like overly earnest dorm-room discussions. Negativland is on safe ground here.
But at the very end of the disc, there is a blaring tone followed by an announcement of an attack on the United States and a blast of sonic discordance.
At the outset of the next disc, the host announces that the station is under new management. Middle Eastern music and people speaking in Arabic follow. The announcer, in his generic radio voice, says, “You’re listening to It’s All in Your Head FM. We’re all Mohammads now.”
And now there are ghostly voices saying “God is perfect” and repeating the word Islam. This is followed by a series of clips of scholarly lectures on the history of Islam, terrorism, and the Crusades. In a track called “Holy War,” we hear the voice of George W. Bush announcing the bombing of Baghdad and the invasion of Iraq and hear some American berserker calling for the bombing of Mecca and other holy places. “This is a holy war,” he says.
The most chilling moment of the entire album comes in the middle of a lengthy track called “Push the Button.” Here a woman, purportedly a jihadist (her accent sounds British), explains, “I don’t target women and children in particular. … The way I see it is that the Jews weren’t merciful with my nation. I don’t have anything against Israeli children. But I know there is the possibility that an Israeli child could grow up and one day come to kill my son or my neighbor’s son. Therefore I feel he should be dead now.”
And while she is justifying these unspeakable acts, in the background you hear a group of schoolchildren singing a sweet version of the Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows” (from the Langley Schools Music Project, 1970s recordings of popular songs performed by kids).
The major theme of It’s All in Your Head is that blind faith in the god of whatever culture you come from, in conjunction with unblinking obedience to political leaders (a by-product of that unquestioning faith), can only lead to hatred and violence against those who believe otherwise. Not a terribly original thought, though a valid one.
The album ends with a message from the radio station, which seems to have returned to its old management. The announcer puts forth the question:
“God, natural fact or unnatural fiction? This decision is your head’s to decide. And the next step will be yours to remove your blindfold and take this All in Your Head message out of this building to all of those unable to attend this broadcast.”
With “Awesome God,” Rich Mullins’ slick 1988 contemporary gospel song swelling in the background, a listener might envision a righteous, godless army of determined rationalists marching forth with the terrible swift sword of intellect to vanquish the blind and hateful forces of religious fanaticism.
I first heard of the outlaw Sam Hall as a little kid. I heard it on a Tex
Ritter album called Blood on the Saddle, which originally was released in
1960. Next to the title song -- which is a story for another day -- "Sam Hall"
was my favorite track on the album.
There was nothing heroic about Sam Hall, at least the way Tex told it. No mythic
elements. No scent of injustice in his execution. He was just a hardcore,
unrepentant bad-ass, a self-admitted murderer ("I killed a man they said, and I
smashed in his head and I left him there for dead ...") facing the gallows with
sneer and weird little whoop. He confronts the sheriff, a preacher, a woman
named Molly, or may or may not have done him wrong and a hostile crowd that
wants to see him die.
And Sam's main message to them all: "Damn your eyes!" Or was it "Blast Your
Hide"? Or some other variation?
I didn't realize it at the time, but Tex Ritter had done a few versions of Sam
Hall, It was the first single he recorded for Decca Records in the mid 1930s.
And he sang in his first movie, Song of the Gringo in 1936. Here's a video of
that:
But "Sam Hall" is much older than that.
Richard Thompson on his 2003 album 10,000 Years of Popular Music,
introduces it, saying introduces it calling it "an 1840s" song. Says
Thompson, "And the guy who sang it would come on stage in the prison stripes and
manacles.... So feel free to boo during the song, boo and hiss ..."
And that's basically correct. The song apparently comes from an old British folk
song about a condemned criminal called "Jack Hall," A 1904 book,
Folk Songs from the Sommerset
edited by Cecil Sharp, quotes Frank Kidson, an early folksong scholar:
Jack Hall was a chimney sweeper, who was executed for burglary in 1701. He
had been sold when a child to a chimney sweeper for a guinea ... About 1845-50 a comic singer named G. W. Ross revived [`Jack Hall'] under
the name `Sam Hall,' with an added coarseness not in the original."
Ross apparently turned it into the kind of stage routine Thompson described.
Here's Thompson's version which is based on Ross' song.
Skipping ahead to the 1960s, The Dubliners, an Irish folk group recorded a
version of "Sam Hall." I their re-telling, the condemned chimney sweep isn't
just a blustery bad guy. He has taken on some aspects of Robin Hood.
I have twenty pounds in store and I’ll rob for twenty more For the rich must help the poor, so must I ...
Note that the Sam Hall in the British or Irish versions is just a robber, not a
murderer. But here in America, our Sam is a killer. Singer Josh White's lyrics
are closer in to Ritter's: "You're a bunch of muckers all, goddamn your eyes
..." Here's his version, which first appeared in 1955 on White's album
The Story Of John Henry & Ballads, Blues And Other Songs.
Meanwhile, Johnny Cash's Sam, from his 1965 album Sings the Ballads of the True West sounds like a psychotic drunk.
In their 1996 album Green Suede Shoes, the Celt-rock band Black 47 took
Sam back to the Emerald Isle. In their version, loosely based on that of The
Dubliners, Sam is a chimney sweep again, an oppressed worker who lost his temper
at a cruel boss.
I had three fine sons to feed, that's no joke, that's no joke And a wife worn out from need, that's no joke But the boss he said to me, "Get your brats out on the street For they cost too much to feed", that's no lie, that's no lie My wife died from misery, that's no lie Oh, I struck the bastard down, I don't deny, I don't deny Raised the black flag up on high for anarchy Oh, I struck the bastard down, to hell with bosses, church and crown But they hunted me to ground like a dog.
Black 47's anarchist martyr's last words are "Liberty for all mankind!"
Very noble. But somehow "Damn your eyes!" strangely is more satisfying.
Most people familiar with Norman Greenbaum know him as the "Spirit in the Sky" guy.
But years before Greenbaum was doing the psychedelic Jesus boogie, he was selling some musical snake oil under the name of Dr. West.
Dr. West's Medicine Show and Junk Band never got to be as famous as Jim Kweskin's Jug Band, which came before them, or Dan Hicks & His Hot Licks, who came after them.
But Greenbaum's band had a true novelty hit, circa 1966 with a goofy jug-band style tune called "The Eggplant That Ate Chicago."
For the uninitiated, here's how that song went:
According to an old rock 'n' roll cliche, The Velvet Underground didn't sell many records, but every one who bought one of their records started a band.
That was my story, except instead of The Velvet Underground, it was Dr. West's Medicine Show and Junk Band. (Except I didn't actually buy their album I won my copy from WKY Radio in Oklahoma City. They had a contest for people to draw the Eggplant that Ate Chicago. I did and I was one of the winners. I was in the 8th grade.)
And just like the Eggplant thought about Chicago, it "was a treat, it was sweet, it was just like sugar.”
As I wrote when reviewing a Dr. West retrospect in No Depression magazine back in 1999:
Ramhorn City, here we come
The official punk rock party line is that punk is the most democratic of all types of music because you don’t even know how to play your instrument to be in a band. But for me, as a youngster in the late 1960s, it was jug-band music that opened the door. With a jug band, you didn’t even need to have a real instrument to join in. Antiquated household appliances like the washtub and washboard could be turned into a rhythm section, kindergarten percussion instruments were welcome, and kazoos were mandatory.
The band with my brother Jack was called The Ramhorn City Go-Go Squad & Uptight Washtub Band. We covered "Eggplant," (though to be honest, we never got the hang of the song), as well as other Dr. West tunes, including these two:
But apparently we weren't the only ones who dug "Eggplant." Here's a soul version by the great Big Maybelle.
Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker apparently likes The Dropkick Murphys more than the Murphs like him.
The Boston Celt -punk band took to Twitter to call Walker for using their song "I'm Shipping Up to Boston" at his political events -- most recently at the Iowa Freedom Summit over the weekend.
“@ScottWalker @GovWalker Please stop using our music in any way. We literally hate you. Love, Dropkick Murphys,”
You can read moreHERE (Thanks, Elena)
Walker should heed the story of another governor, ex-Florida Gov. Charlie Crist who appropriated a song from a rock band The Talking Heads' "Road to Nowhere," without permission. (Warning: The following video is painful to watch.)
Notice Crist didn't use "Psycho Killer" when he ran for governor of Florida last year.
I know know how these artists feel. I hated it when Lyndon Larouche used my song at the campaign rallies. (Just kidding, just kidding ...)
