Showing posts with label The Shaggs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Shaggs. Show all posts

2024-06-15

THE SHAGGS - PHILOSOPHY OF THE WORLD @ 55


 

Marking its 55th anniversary as the poster child for outsider music is the debut and only official album from the Wiggin sisters, collectively known as The Shaggs, with Philosophy of the World being released on June 15th 1969. It's an album that should have sank into obscurity, forgotten as an ill conceived indulgence by an over-ambitious and misguided father, but the fates would turn it into a signpost of inadvertent originality, pointing the way for future generations of outcasts to pioneer their own creative paths.

The story of The Shaggs is as bizarre and inexplicable as it is tragic and disturbing. In many ways, it is a tale of parental abuse by a father who was subject to obsessive, delusional compulsions, and who turned his children into unwilling vehicles for his determination to realize a reality that completely ignored his family's well being. It all started with a series of "psychic" visions by the mother of one Austin Wiggin Jr., who one day read his palm and made three pivotal predictions. First was that he would marry a strawberry-blonde woman, secondly he would have two sons after she had died, and finally, his daughters would form a popular band. With the first two predictions eventually coming to pass, Austin became obsessed with the third and began to focus on his three daughters in order to realize his mother's divination. He was so attached to her that he would hold seances with the family in order to attempt to communicate with her.

Austin worked as a low income mill hand in Exeter and was described by a local as a humourless man who rarely smiled. He was strict and did not allow his daughters to have social lives, friends or boyfriends, or attend concerts. Betty Wiggin said they "missed everything", and she fantasized about getting a car and leaving home. Some accounts indicated that the girls suffered parental abuse, and Helen said her father was once "inappropriately intimate" with her. After withdrawing his daughters from school in 1965 and purchasing a set of musical instruments, papa Wiggin kept his girls to a militarily strict regimen of practising their instruments and doing calisthenics every day for several hours each. It was a brutally strict routine and the girls were allowed almost no time for normal childhood activities, save those instances where they could sneak out of the house when they were supposed to be practising and get away for a couple of hours. But for the most part, they were dutiful and obedient to their father's relentless demands.

Austin had named the band, The Shaggs, after a popular haircut of the late '60s and as a reference to a favourite Disney film, The Shaggy Dog. By 1968, Austin felt his girls were good enough to perform in public, though they had no interest in music and were not at all confident with their musical abilities, which would prove to be virtually bereft of any conventional techniques or talents. Nevertheless, he booked shows for the girls at local school dances, where audiences would be bemused into hurtling abuse at the trio with their seeming inability to play, a situation that left the girls mortified and traumatized.

In March of 1969, Austin paid for studio time and brought the girls in to record their first album, Philosophy of the World, at Fleetwood Studios in Revere, Massachusetts. The studio was mainly used to record local rock groups and school marching bands. The sisters did not think they were ready to record, and one engineer recalled that they looked "miserable". Austin dismissed an engineer's opinion that the Shaggs were not ready, saying: "I want to get them while they're hot." One producer, Bobby Herne, recalled that the studio staff shut the control room doors and "rolled on the floor laughing" after they performed. The session for the album took only a single day to complete. The studio was tasked with mixing the album, even going so far as to hire session players to augment the recordings in an effort to salvage the session, but the musicians couldn't follow the erratic and unpredictably idiosyncratic original compositions and left without adding anything to the record.

Austin paid to have Dreyer's record company, Third World, press 1000 copies of the album. The liner notes, written by Austin, said the Shaggs "loved" making music and described them as "real, pure, unaffected by outside influences". The songs "My Pal Foot Foot" and "Things I Wonder" were released as a 45 rpm single on Fleetwood Records. According to many accounts, Dreyer delivered only 100 copies of the album and disappeared with the remaining 900. Dot said that Dreyer had stolen her father's money and could not be traced. However, according to the music executive Harry Palmer, Dreyer said Austin had refused to distribute the extra copies because he feared someone would copy the Shaggs' music. Palmer said that Dreyer kept boxes of the records in the studio and would give them to anyone who asked. The journalist Irwin Chusid argued that it was unlikely Dreyer had stolen the records, as they were valueless at the time. Philosophy of the World received no media coverage and the Shaggs resumed performing locally. At this point, the entire venture should have sunk to the bottom of the swamp of obscurity, but the fates had something else in mind, and rather than vanishing into oblivion, the album would fester into an unexpected cult curiosity, eventually gaining international recognition.

Palmer, who had been given several copies of Philosophy of the World by Dreyer, was intrigued and wondered if he could find the Shaggs an audience. In 1970 or 1971, he attended one of their Fremont performances and was amazed to see locals dancing awkwardly to the music, likening them to zombies. Palmer approached Austin about promoting the Shaggs, but stressed that people laughed at them and asked if this was a problem. Austin responded with resignation. Palmer decided he was in danger of exploiting the Shaggs as a freak show and did not pursue them. In 1973, the Shaggs' weekly town hall shows were halted by the Fremont town supervisors. The sisters were relieved, as they were now adults and had tired of their father's control. When Austin discovered that Helen, then 28, had secretly married, he chased her husband with a shotgun. After the police intervened, Helen left the family home to be with her husband, but rejoined the band later.

In 1975, Austin took the Shaggs to Fleetwood Studios for another recording session. Though they had become more proficient through hundreds of hours of practice, the engineer wrote off their poor performances and felt sorry for them. He said they did not notice their out-of-tune guitars or disjointed rhythms when he played the recordings back to them. The recordings went unreleased. Shortly after the recording session, Austin died of a heart attack at the age of 47. The Shaggs disbanded and sold most of their equipment. A few years later, Betty and Dot married and moved out, and their mother sold the family house. The new owner became convinced that the house was haunted by Austin's ghost and donated it to the Fremont fire department, who burnt it down in a firefighting exercise. The Wiggin sisters had never profited from their music and took blue-collar jobs to support their families.

The music captured on their debut album was unlike anything that had ever been created before. Despite the fact the girls hated making it and the entire process was like a forced death march for them, somehow there's an innocence and purity trapped in those grooves, like an insect in amber. Songs like It's Halloween, Sweet Thing and That Little Sports Car exude a sense of childhood wonder and naivety that completely obscures the torturous conditions which brought the album to life. It's an undeniable alchemy that would cause the album to be blown into the breeze, like dandelion seeds, and take root in the collections of influential musicians around the country.

By the late 1970s, stray copies of the LP had managed to find their way into the hands of people like Frank Zappa, Bonnie Raitt, Jonathan Richman and Carla Bley. Zappa played two songs from the album when he appeared on the Dr. Demento radio show. He is often quoted as having called the Shaggs "better than the Beatles", but this may be apocryphal. This spurred on a grassroots word-of-mouth interest in the band, enough that Terry Adams and Tom Ardolino of the American punk band NRBQ spearheaded an effort to reissue the album in 1980 on their own indie label, Rounder Records. That reissue was the move that fanned the spark of their cult popularity into a full flame as a new generation of music lovers, most of whom had been brought up on the DIY eccentricities of "Punk" and "New Wave", found the album's inadvertent avant-garde strangeness a perfect fit for an era of risk taking and barrier breaking. While the sisters had no inkling of their distinctiveness at the time they created that music, as the age of musical exploration reached its crest a decade later, The Shaggs were suddenly embraced as pioneers and the most extreme outliers of "outsider music".

In the decades that followed, The Shaggs would resurface for a couple of reunions with sisters Dot and Betty, with Dot even forming a new group, Dot Wiggin Band, and releasing an album of new songs in 2013, still retaining that distinctive quirky sound. Rounder Records also cobbled together a second Shaggs album in 1982, Shaggs Own Thing, gathering together any unreleased recordings that they could find that were made after the sessions for the first album, including an unsettling ditty with vocals by father Austin and brother Robert. Pitchfork described it as "particularly disturbing" and unintentionally Oedipal, noting that Austin sings of catching another man, his son, "doin' it" with "his girl". In 1988, Philosophy of the World and Shaggs' Own Thing were remastered and re-released by Rounder Records as the CD compilation The Shaggs.

In some respects, the process of creating The Shaggs disturbingly reminds me of the ancient practice of creating human "oddities" by placing a young child in a ceramic vase, with only their head and feet sticking out, where they would then be forced to grow inside it until they were warped into stunted and grotesque curiosities and sold for exhibition. As horrifying as that sounds, it seems like a rather similar analogue to what these three sisters endured and what could have caused them to create something so entirely distant from traditional music, even with the endless hours of practice they were forced to perform. The fact it NEVER resulted in musical ability, in a traditional sense, is something that may speak to the constraints to which they were subjected. In that sense, it creates a conundrum for those who seek out the unique and distinctive in the realm of art. The Shaggs are an established part of the pantheon of outsider artists, celebrated for their distinctiveness, though I have to consider, at what cost? If you were to ask Dot, Betty and Helen if they'd do it all again, I'm certain they'd offer up a resounding and emphatic "NO"!

2020-05-20

INFLUENTIAL ALBUM - THE SHAGGS, PHILOSOPHY OF THE WORLD


I first heard about The Shaggs reading a little article about them in a 1980 issue of CREEM magazine. The article, written by Robot A. Hull, described...

"...Betty, Helen and Dorothy Wiggin, lonely sisters losing their minds in Squaresville in the limbo years of 1969-72. Sheltered by their parents as if they were porcelain figurines, the Wiggin sisters never had a chance to date, never were allowed to taste of the delicious sins down at the local Tastee-Freeze. So they went up to their rooms, cried their eyes out, and formed a rock band, the self-destructive and chaotic Shaggs."

The article left an impression, but it wouldn't be until some dozen or so years later that I'd actually get a chance to hear them while going through my partner's CD collection after we moved in together. He had a copy of a CD reissue of The Shaggs, Philosophy of the World, but it was coupled with bonus material from a 1982 album of unreleased early 1970s recordings (released then as "Shaggs Own Thing") and the CD was simply called The Shaggs.

In the interim between reading that article and discovering that CD, I'd come across numerous other references to them, all falling somewhere between ridicule and reverence. By the early 1990s, I was more than a little acquainted with "difficult" music, but nothing in my musical vocabulary could have prepared me for what I heard from these three sisters. At first, I reacted as I'm sure most people do, by contextualizing it as a joke, some kind of prank or simply the product of such profound musical ignorance that it was merely laughable. Over the years since that first listening, however, I've come to appreciate it's idiosyncrasies as far more than an accident of ineptitude.

Yes, ignorance does play a critical role in this music because it sounds like these girls were raised in utter isolation from the world and had to invent the very concept of music all on their own without any points of reference to guide them. That means that this music exists with its own internal logic and rationale. It's not like they're incompetent at playing regular music. They're actually quite precise about how they play THEIR music THEIR way. In that regard, one simply has to acknowledge that these sounds are not the result of stupidity or incompetence. They're the result of resourcefulness and ingenuity forced to function in a vacuum.

The proof of the above proposition rests in the fact that Dot (Dorothy) Wiggin has continued to tour and perform this music with a backing band of professional musicians who have been able to replicate the nuances of the original recordings with the guidance of Dot. They have personally verified that she is completely cognizant of the intricacies of the arrangements and their function. In the same way that Don Van Vliet was able to transcribe his abstract, angular vision into the music of Captain Beefheart, the Wiggin sisters were able to do the exact same thing for the music of The Shaggs.

If there's a lesson to be learnt here, it's that "music" can be defined as any organized sound provided that there is an organizer. The structure, method and techniques of this organization are, however, completely up to the individual doing the organizing.

2020-05-05

INFLUENTIAL ALBUM - MRS. MILLER'S GREATEST HITS


Not all "influential" albums qualify as necessarily "good".  Some music, in fact, takes a more Nietzschean course and transcends such primal dualities as "good" vs "bad".  This is the very essence of the true "outsider" when it comes to music and the performing arts.  These are the dedicated souls who pursue their art without any need for the validation of critical approval or even fan support, though they often end up with some form of both.  The sheer inevitability of their existence makes them invaluable treasures in the end. 

It was, I think, some time around 1995 when Elva Ruby Miller, Mrs. Miller, came into my sphere of consciousness.  Her 1966 "Greatest Hits" album was lent to me by an acquaintance who never managed to get the record returned.  Normally, I'm very good about borrowing, but this one refused to leave my grasp once it found itself there.  It only took a minute of the first track for me to be enchanted by the warbling, soprano atonalities fluttering from these grooves. 

Mrs. Miller had somehow managed to forge a successful recording career in the 1960s despite her obvious lack of professional skills.  Against a backdrop of professionally recorded and performed music by, I assume, the top studio talent of the day, Elva plonked down her vocals like mom having been summoned unexpectedly from cooking dinner and she left the beans burning.  She sounded kinda rushed and off key and she'd forget lyrics and then stick an ice cube in her mouth for her whistling solo and all of this was crashing together simultaneously into this glorious symphony of ineptitude.  It's like they only let her do one take of every vocal and didn't let her see the lyric sheet beforehand. 

She managed to have a career at a time when outsider artists could even have hit records (as in Tiny Tim's Tiptoe).  For me, discovering her, along with The Shaggs, sent me on a musical side quest for other artists who managed to defy the odds and the standards of the day to create their own space where they could be free to be themselves and damn everyone else, though you're more than welcome to hang about if you like.