INFLUENTIAL ALBUM - MUSLIMGAUZE, BUDDHIST ON FIRE

Influence, in music, isn't always about the music itself. Sometimes, artists inspire influence for other reasons and get you to think about certain things a little differently or to look more closely at a particular subject. Being "political" doesn't always require writing protest songs with one's stances spelled out in the lyrics. Sometimes, artists can cleverly coax listeners to question things simply through a few careful signifiers.

I remember hearing Muslimgauze's 1984 LP, Buddhist on Fire, probably late in 1985 when my room mate at the time bought the album. The cover, of course, was very provocative, showing the aftermath of a Tibetan monk's protest after self-immolation. Right there I was educated by the fact that I didn't even know about this practice at the time. The second clue was in the "band" name, Muslimgauze. Again, I assumed there was some religious significance, but I didn't know much about it at the time. At that point, I was only interested in the music and what I heard on the album was pretty interesting.

Muslimgauze began in the early 1980s as simply a guy with a drum machine. His first releases were stark and minimal with nothing more than rhythm. Created solely by a British fellow, Bryn Jones, his approach was fairly blocky and crude at first, but by the time of Buddhist On Fire, his 3rd LP, he'd started to evolve a certain flair and sophistication. There were only 5 longish tracks on the album, but their rhythmic insistence was mesmerizing and song titles like Soviet Occupied Territories, Turkish Falaka & Dissidents In Exile gave the proceedings a subversively militant aura. It was all enough that, within my music collecting circles, Muslimgauze LPs, whenever they'd show up in the shop, were immediately snapped up.

I wasn't always able to buy them myself, but I'd always manage to record them on cassette from my friends. As each one came around, we'd get familiarized with the various terms of revolution used in the middle eastern conflicts. Without preaching or proselytizing, these records began to expose the hypocrisy of the situation and the injustices being committed against these people. It was a strange process whereby the use of the terms and the images on the album covers became an invitation to empathize and investigate.

The odd thing is that Jones never traveled to the area, had no relation, racially, to the culture and did not even consider himself religious, let alone a "Muslim". Yet he spent nearly two decades, until his tragic, sudden death in 1999, spewing forth a deluge of releases promoting the cause of these people. If he'd become rich from this endeavor, it might have been tempting to accuse him of cultural appropriation, but this was not in any way "mainstream" music. He did very small runs of these records on little indie labels. But he was prolific. He released dozens of albums over the course of his career and left enough unreleased material in the vault to keep providing new content for another two decades since his passing.

Over the years, his works evolved from their primitive drum machine roots into richly intricate compositions in the late 1980s and early 1990s and then shifted into deliberately crude, yet fluid excursions into extremes of tribal downtempo dub, pushing distortion and bass frequencies to levels as radical as the politics which inspired his works. Today, the Muslimgauze catalogue spans some 200 or so releases with more miraculously surfacing each year. Sure, there's a good chunk that's a bit dubious in terms of it's quality, but there's a surprising amount which holds up and still sounds cutting edge. If it doesn't get your head bobbing, it should at least get it nodding in recognition that he's clued you into a real struggle which persists to this day.

INFLUENTIAL ALBUM - NANCY SINATRA, BOOTS

Since it's Mother's Day, I wanted to feature an album that reminds me of my mom. Hands down, this was my favorite LP in her respectable collection of vinyl. It was the coolest LP in the stack and has one of the best songs ever written on it. The album is worthwhile for that song alone. If they'd just repeated These Boots are Made for Walking 12 times on the record, it would still be an amazing album by any standard. When I moved out on my own, this was the first album I pilfered from mom's collection to add to my own.

Let's start by talking about that song. This was the one that made Nancy a star. Of course, she had a leg up, what with being the progeny of no less than the "chairman of the board", ol' blue eyes, Frank Sinatra. Her career was pretty well guaranteed in some ways. No one's gonna mess with Frankie's little princess, capisce? So she could've farted out garlic and pepperoni and radio stations would have played it for a bit, just to make Frank happy. And yeah, she wasn't a great voice. There wasn't a lot of range there, but she had something much more valuable than technical skills. She had presence and A.T.T.I.T.U.D.E!

Lee Hazlewood, the album's producer and the author of the song, had been planning on saving the song for his own album, but Nancy heard it and said is was wrong for a male vocalist. She thought it came off as abusive in the hands of a man, but she insisted she could give it the right read. Reluctantly, Lee conceded and they recorded the song. In her hands, it became a symbol of female empowerment. At a time when women were just starting to find their voice in pop culture, Nancy came out of the gate as this fierce little firecracker who wasn't going to take shit from anyone. When she intoned that she was gonna "walk all over you", it had better send chills down your spine because she meant business and carried it off with every word.

The rest of the album, while vastly overshadowed by its hit single, is no less loaded with great songs, many courtesy of Hazlewood. They may not reach the same heights as Boots, but that's only a relativity as on their own, they still tower above a lot of the pop music of the day. It's all music which has earned the term "timeless" and deserves to be heard for generations to come.

40 YEARS LATER - THE LEGEND LIVES ON... JAH WOBBLE IN "BETRAYAL"

May 9th marks the 40th anniversary of the release of Jah Wobble's debut solo LP, The Legend Lives On - Jah Wobble In 'Betrayal', which was unleashed on this day in 1980.

Let's start by reminding people of the career of another bass player for Johnny Rotten and its tragic end. After the Sex Pistols, Sid Vicious went on to self destruct rather quickly and spectacularly within a very short time after the demise of the band that made him famous. As such, Jah Wobble stepping out from behind John Lydon to kick off a solo career, being not entirely dis-similarly reputed for his indulgences (though with booze instead of smack), cast this release with its own level of suspicion. One could not be blamed for expecting this career move to potentially be as short lived and disastrous.

Indeed, Wobble pushed out the boat with a good deal of levity and frivolity for his initial outing. Frankly, the whole endeavor came off as something of a joke and, in fact, proved to be a fatal coffin nail for his relationship with the band that made HIM famous, Public Image Ltd. Surreptitiously pilfering PiL backing tracks to recycle for his solo album didn't sit well with Mr. Lydon and, once the band had completed it's US tour, Wobble found himself out of the enterprise with little fanfare. The band would go on to prove that they didn't need his bass or anyone else's on the virtually bass-less Flowers of Romance.

However, Wobble's career would prove to be no "flash in the pan" as he soon found his feet, connecting with the likes of Holger Czukay (CAN) and The Edge (U2) and ultimately forging a solo career which has spanned decades and dozens of acclaimed releases and shows no signs of faltering to this day. Within that context, it is possible to look back on this album and discover that, while it was possessed of a certain irreverence and sense of mischief, it still managed to deliver some innovation and a jolly good time, once you twigged that it was meant for a "larf"!

Personally, as a devout, fanatical aficionado of all things PiL, the thought of a solo album by Wobble was a no-brain'r. This was to be acquired, forthwith. Fortunately, I was able to special order the album through one of my local record shops. Upon its arrival, I was pretty instantly swept up in its craziness. Though the ideas weren't without precedent, this was the first record I'd come across which utilized the concept of the "remix" as it featured alternate versions of two songs from the PiL canon; The Suit, reworked and augmented to become Blueberry Hill, and Graveyard/Another, dub mixed as an instrumental, Not Another. As silly as it all seems, the album explores a lot of dub production techniques, in some ways even more extremely than what PiL had done on Metal Box. The touches of reggae were also more apparent as some songs went directly into the genre rather than offering glancing blows like Metal Box.

I loved it and still love it, though it baffles my mind that Virgin Records were willing to give Wobble money and studio time to create what was very much an indulgence and a private joke at the expense of the label. This is one of the reasons it stands out as it's a rare example where a musician has been able to get backing to go into a studio and just piss about for the hell of it and actually have the results pressed on vinyl and sold to the world. As a musician, that willingness to throw caution to the wind and try something silly has been a guiding principal ever since hearing this album. I've done a lot of crazy experiments because I was emboldened by the brevity of this LP. Yes, it was a swindle in the best "punk" tradition, but a fun and delightful listen in the end, proving that you don't have to be so goddamned serious all the time in the studio! 

 

PLAYLIST - THE LEGEND LIVES ON... JAH WOBBLE IN "BETRAYAL" 

FORGOTTEN FILM - CABIN BOY

I think the first time I noticed Chris Elliott was on his short lived FOX sitcom, Get a Life (1990-1992). I'm sure I'd seen him pop up on Letterman's old NBC show here and there before that (he was a writer and regular cast member), but this series put a name to his face and was just weird enough to appeal to me. I started watching it because his character's name was the same as someone I knew, which we all found rather funny, but then the show turned out to be actually rather funny, so I kept watching until it got cancelled.

A couple of years later, I spotted the VHS of his 1994 film, Cabin Boy, for rent when it hit the shelves and the premise seemed interesting enough to take a chance, so home it came. What I wasn't really prepared for was the flat out assault on my sensibilities that I was going to endure for the next 80 minutes. The thing is, this film should have made me very angry, and I know it made some critics feel that way, but despite the continuous intellectual kicks to the head, I found myself turning into a complete masochist for this movie's abuse. The more ridiculous and irritating it got, the more I loved it and I just couldn't get enough. It simply takes absurdity to a level of Zen transcendence and becomes something quite unique unto itself.

Elliott plays Nathanial Mayweather, an entitled, arrogant, foulmouthed finishing school graduate. He's the kind of guy you want to punch the instant you lay eyes on him and that feeling only intensifies when he starts opening his mouth, which he does far more than is necessary or wise. You see, he's one of them "fancy lads", as is so quaintly put by the stuffed monkey selling street hustler played by David Letterman in a classic cameo. After graduating from finishing school, he's on the lookout for his ship to take him on a luxury ocean cruise, only to end up stowing away on a filthy pirate ship. From there, the film becomes an inexplicable homage to Ray Harryhausen films like The 7th Voyages of Sinbad or Clash of the Titans, as Nathan inadvertently embarks on a quest to discover his manhood while encountering all manner of creatures and characters along the way.

This is one of those flicks that really benefits from psychoactive stimulants of the psychedelic variety as the surrealism of each situation escalates towards the film's climax. Elliott manages to perform something of a minor miracle in terms of creating such a reprehensible protagonist while still giving him enough pathos to make him sympathetic enough to follow through his adventures. I'd still punch him in the face if I met him, but I'd do it with a smile. I hate them fancy lads.

INFLUENTIAL ALBUM - AMON TOBIN, BRICOLAGE

For a long time, electronic music was beaten down by the cudgel that it lacked "feeling' and was too "stiff" and "rigid".  This was something that was even embraced by groups like Kraftwerk, who integrated the rigidity of electronics into their aesthetic, to brilliant effect, i might add.  But still, for the first two decades as the technology worked its way from novelty to necessity in the creation of popular music, there were restrictions on its flexibility.  It took time for keyboards to develop sensitivity to velocity and after-touch and rhythmic devices like drum machines and sequencers were generally slavishly tied to quantization. 

It wasn't until the 1990s that the tech began to truly develop the abilities to incorporate more organic feeling attributes into its compositions.  One of the most preeminent pioneers in terms of breaking electronics free from the shackles of perfection and repetition was Amon Tobin, who debuted with his first album, Bricolage, in 1997. 

I recall this album being something of a revelation in my social circles as we'd never heard anything that sounded quite so loose and spontaneous before.  I remember listening to this with fellow musicians who were well up on the latest tools and techniques and being aghast at the fluidity of the percussion and the arrangements.  So much was going on and no two bars of music seemed to be the same.  There were constant shifts and variations happening and it all felt like someone was really playing this stuff, even though we knew it was mostly done by sampling and editing.  We couldn't figure out how the hell he was doing this stuff.

The style of the music also broke free of genre pigeonholes.  Tobin would effortlessly glide from devastating drum & bass to downtempo coolness to jazzy chill without breaking a sweat.  The title, Bricolage, which is an arts term for "the construction or creation of a work from a diverse range of things that happen to be available, or a work constructed using mixed media", fit the contents perfectly as it was a diverse assemblage of sounds and styles that created its own unique vision for both the dance floor and the living room in equal measure.

FORGOTTEN FILM - HEAVEN

Diane Keaton is well known for her decades long career as an actress in many high profile films, but she has also, on occasion, gone behind the camera and her 1987 documentary, Heaven, is one of my most cherished viewing experiences. I came across it as a rental shortly after its release and found myself enchanted by it from the first viewing. Since then, I've become somewhat "evangelical" about trying to turn others on to it, whenever the opportunity has presented itself. Whether you're a true believer or atheist or agnostic, you are sure to find yourself connecting with this very human experience.

The film is essentially a series of interviews with a wide variety of people possessing all sorts of beliefs and representing a full spectrum of everything from everyday schmucks to the most eccentric oddballs. They are all interviewed in bizarre, angular, sets with a distinctly "new wave" aesthetic, which does slightly date this to its 1980s origins, but the substance and message remain timeless and transcendent.

A lesser film maker would have given in to the temptation to treat the interviewees as fodder for humiliation and ridicule, which would have been incredibly easy to do with some of these people. The camera could have cast judgements on them quite superfluously, had Keaton allowed such an angle to guide her production. Instead, however, she stealthily manages to keep judgements out of the equation and simply lets these people be themselves and express their views. The end result is that the audience is able to develop a surprisingly intimate relationship with them all, no matter how conflicting they may be with one's own world views. It's more than just "tolerance" which connects the viewer to these subjects, it's sincere affection for them. Every time I see this film again, I get the overwhelming sense of visiting with a group of old friends. I may scoff at some of what they have to say, but in the end, I'd still give them a hug, for the most part anyway.

Beyond the banquet of strange personalities, the film is an exploration of Heaven (and Hell) as a concept, not trying to prove whether or not it's real, but examining what people think it might or might not be, like how you get there and what you do once you are. Because the film doesn't approach the subjects with a predefined conception of "Heaven" and whether or not it exists, it's able to straddle the gulf between those who believe and those who don't. You get to make up your own mind and the film doesn't try to shove a belief system down your throat. You're not going to change your mind about your beliefs watching this, but you may find yourself thinking about them in a different way after you've heard what other people have to say and how they think about these things.

After all these years of seeing it many times, the film still brings the brightest grin to my face and, in the final sequence, the biggest lump in my throat. There are some people who you simply connect with in a very real way and they bring so much joy, even when they're so burdened with sadness. A particular senior lady is a perfect case in point. She reminds me of my great grandmother so much and then the final sequence of the film features her voice saying goodbye to all the other people in the film, like she's saying farewell to close family and friends. This device brings the concept of mortality into sharp focus and is what hammers home the emotional impact of it all, realizing that we're all going to die at some point and to cherish each other while we can.

Ultimately, it's a message of love and acceptance and joy and it'll make you feel good no matter what you believe.

INFLUENTIAL ALBUM - THE BEATLES, YELLOW SUBMARINE

Music was a big part of my childhood. My mom even played music extra loud while I was in-utero because she wanted me to love music, and this was in 1963, long before hipster moms glomed onto the idea of trying to influence their babies while they were still chillin' in the womb. Once I was outta there, it was mostly stuff like Elvis & Johnny Cash records for my mom, while my dad had a Latin easy listening lean, stuff like Herb Alpert & Mexican Joe. They were still in their early 20s, so while their tastes were rooted in the 1950s, they'd still pick up the odd contemporary single, things like The Monkees' I'm a Believe & Last Train to Clarksville, but it was mostly country music stuff from them beyond that.

The real eye/ear opener for me as a kid was the day the babysitter brought over her newly purchased copy of The Beatles Yellow Submarine. It being released in 1969, I couldn't have been more than 5, going on 6. I can remember it so clearly, being in the living room, sitting with her on the floor next to the big old console stereo and her showing me this record. The cover of it was marvelous, so colorful and strange! Coming into my sense of self-consciousness in the late 1960s was a weird time because psychedelia was in full swing and it had an immediate appeal for a kid like me with its bright colors and fantastical imagery. It most definitely became a foundation memory for me in terms of guiding my quests for the unusual.

When she put the record on, I recall being transfixed by the music. It was so different from anything I'd really heard before and so instantly memorable. The hooks in the songs sunk into you and never let go. You heard this stuff once and were humming it forever afterwards.

I had no idea of what went into making this music back then nor how sophisticated it was in terms of its production, arrangements and execution. All I knew was that I wanted to find more music like this. It would be several years before my record collecting obsession would fully kick into gear in 1977, but this album was the one that got me to perceive the medium as something special and collectible, objects worth coveting. At the time, however, all I knew was that I also wanted to live in a Yellow Submarine.