Pete Clark in The ROCK YEARBOOK Vol. VI, 1985

New Lords Of An Old Church

Pete Clark romps round the frets with ancient and modern members of the guitar congregation
Bands mentioned in this article
Del Fuegos
Let's Active
dB's
Fleshtones
R.E.M.
The Replacements
Hüsker Dü
Bangles
Dream Syndicate
Green On Red
The Long Ryders
The Rain Parade
The Beatfarmers
Los Lobos
True West		 A lot of rubbish has been talked about the new American music. Supporters of this curious genre have made ecstatic claims for just about every redneck who can't spell "synthesizer", while detractors mutter grimly of sweaty, rockist trash - bar bands touted as barnstormers. The non-committed are thus invited to make a choice between "the future of rock'n'roll" (© Jon Landau) and the fag end of a redundant musical form which should be stubbed out fast. Boring as it is to relate, the truth lies firmly in between.
This "new" music is nothing of the sort. The guitar has always been the kingpin of American music, ever since Elvis used one for neck decoration. There is, in fact, no real tradition in American popular music that does not centre on guitars - the effete misery of squiggly synth bands has been perpetrated on the world by the British in snide retaliation for loss of Empire. More specifically, the rock'n' roll sounds currently exciting popular debate have been around for ever; the current furore has been whipped up by a handful of enthusiasts, a gaggle of strangely sensible A&R men and some sections of the pop press who are at a loss between Thompson Twins albums.
So while we're at it, let's mention a few unsung heroes of song: Randy California, Flamin' Groovies, Alex Chilton, Television, Fleshtones, Barefoot Jerry, Ozark Mountain Daredevils, Slickee Boys, Willie Alexander, 20/20, The Pop, The Last. . . All of these, and many more, fit quite comfortably alongside the new breed, give or take a grey whisker. They also suggest the variety on offer. No two bands sound alike; many of them are extremely dodgy, but the best are worth your unbiased attention.
Boston's Del Fuegos surfaced at the beginning of 1985 with an LP of timeless rock'n'roll - The Longest Day - which tucked a banger down respectable musical trousers and failed to retire the required distance. Featuring a drummer who would have beaten his teddy bear to death in the interests of a decent rhythm, the Del Fuegos also have in frontman Dan Zanes a man and a half who thankfully overlooked his obvious vocation as a writer of westerns to deliver a stream of lean rockers and sugarfree ballads.
In North Carolina, semi-famous producer Mitch Easter finally put his mouth where his proteges used to be and formed Let's Active, a pop group of his very own. The resulting LP, Cypress, was an astonishing piece of pop-rock dabbling, conjuring songs of sprung steel from a seemingly floppy hat. The sound owed a little to the classy ditties of ex-dB Chris Stamey (with whom Easter has worked), but not much to anything else. Easter also bucked the trends in Byrd-style hair-dos, sporting a startled upwardly-mobile crop that may find adherents.
The dB's themselves had a good year. Having remained delightfully oblivious to the prevailing winds for some time, the group found themselves leading the nononsense pop revival as tastes did a sudden U-turn. Their third LP - Like This - saw the group reduced to a trio after the departure of midget maestro Chris Stamey (who is overdue a return to form after a deeply disappointing solo LP), but they bore the loss with fortitude through the refined pop sensibility of Peter Holsapple and an explosion of lead guitar talent from bassist Gene Holder. In a sane world, the single from the album - 'Love Is For Lovers'- would currently be thumbing its nose at allcomers from the top of every chart in the known world.
New York's Fleshtones had the proverbial curate's egg of a year, releasing Hexbreaker, a barnstorming LP awash with the simple pleasures of high-speed degeneracy, and reducing the millionth seedy club to a shambles with their truly snotty live show. The net result of these efforts was that the group ended the season without a record contract, which is presumably also the fate of the Plimsouls, whose excellent debut for Geffen, Everywhere At Once, appears also to have been their swansong. Ageing teen idol Dwight Twilley fared rather better with Jungle, a restatement of his ideals of good, mannered pop music with just a hint of savagery which reclaimed the title from camp irony. The LP made a respectable showing in the US album charts, which would effectively have disqualified Twilley from any further part in the resurgence of good old etc etc, were it not for jungle's pleasantly high ozone factor.
Standard bearing and standard setting seem to have been the lot of Georgian combo R.E.M. ever since they first stumbled enigmatically into a recording studio. The retarded reflexes that have always operated in the wacky world of popular music contrived to make a hit of Reckoning, their second LP, inferior in almost every way to the murky splendours of Murmur. Ever since it seemed that R.E.M. were going to be successful they have courted failure by a variety of ingenious marketing ruses, Reckoning sported a sleeve which demanded to be hurriedly skipped by the casual record store browser. The third relies for similar effect upon its title - Fables Of The Reconstruction/Reconstruction Of The Fables - which promises all the joys of a collaboration between Test Department and prime-time Yes. Instead, it's the mixture much as before (although this time recorded in the UK) with perhaps a little more guitar stridency and a little less melodic introversion. Michael Stipe's nonsense lyrics continue to puzzle the gullible.
By a stroke of great good fortune, The Attempted Moustache was not the only noteworthy thing about Minneapolis in the past year. The Replacements have a perverted penchant for playing old Edison Lighthouse "tunes", a reputation for distressing insobriety, an attitude which even the devil may not care about and a sleazy feel for slack-jawed rock 'n' roll of the highest order. Let It Be is the group's umpteenth release, but the first to get widespread attention. At their best (that is when they don't start and finish a song more or less at the same time), the Replacements display a ramshackle power combined with a ragged melodicism which leaves the listener playing host to an unbidden grin. At their worst, the group wallow in vulgar depths which need not concern us in this family publication.
The last year also saw the emergence from Minneapolis of Hüsker Dü, purveyors of machine-tooled urban blitz to the discerning. Big on bellies and low on profile, Hüsker Dü are a power trio with rather more to them than three chords and songs about big broads. Following the sonic storm of Zen Arcade and a version of `Eight Miles High' (which the group covered in much the same way as stallions cover mares) came New Day Rising, a menacing tour de force shot through with shades of light and dark. The splendidly named Bob Mould supplies Hüsker Dü's aural trademark - a storm of loving guitar abuse, punctuated by acoustic strumming which proves that his chords are essentially decent. The same is probably true of the lyrics, which are buried too deep in the monstrous roar to excite meaningful speculation. The secret of Hüsker Dü, and the Replacements for that matter, is that they have escaped the trap of most things post-punk: they are not dogged.
Back at Pop Central, the Bangles bopped out of Los Angeles and immediately whipped up the usual dogs-on-hind-legs comments that invariably greet any new all-girl band. Fortunately, the Bangles possessed a handful of extremely catchy tunes, a pleasing line in vocal harmonies and a live act which made their first LP, All Over The Place, sound a little gutless. Surprisingly, for a band whose strength lies in their songwriting, the nearest the Bangles came to a hit - "Going Down To Liverpool" -was written by someone else, erstwhile Soft Boy Kimberley Rew, now of Katrina and the Waves. Nevertheless, the Bangles seem to have overcome most of their immediate problems - odious Go-Gos comparisons, being signed to a big record company, a certain twee folksiness - and all they have to do now is produce a second LP of wit and verve.
Despite the relative inactivity of guitar gluttons Dream Syndicate and punks-gone-west Rank & File, the West Coast continued to supply some of the keenest new sounds. Green On Red unleashed a second longplayer of brooding three chord tricks. Dan Stuart's thoroughly undisciplined snarl dominates Gas, Food, Lodging and it remains a noise which will make good, rather than numerous, friends. The keyboards of Chris Cacavas soothed Dan's desperation as on the first LP and Green On Red's finest moments are an inspirational blend of naivety and resourcefulness. The group's (possibly ill-advised) cover of 'We Shall Overcome' is more interesting as a nod to Green On Red's renegade folk leanings than as a statement of intent.
Altogether more extrovert, both live and on record, the Long Ryders fortunately stopped short of becoming complete Byrd maniacs. Their first LP, Native Sons, breezes along in fragrant country pastures until the music suddenly starts kicking sand in a big way on tracks like 'Wreck Of The 809' and 'I Had A Dream'. Live, the band exhibit no such restraint, attacking the material with ferocious glee.
On a more subdued, but undeniably many-splendoured note, Rain Parade refined their acid drop visions over a pair of records. The first of these - Emergency Third Rail Power Trip - saw the group trying a bit too hard, with berserk tempo changes and a warehouse of musical textures which tended to obscure its finer points on first acquaintance. The second set, a mini-LP called Explosions In The Glass Palace, represented a major improvement. Less laboured than its predecessor, the album saw the group settle into a seriously cool groove with extended workouts punctuated by dense clouds of guitar atmospherics. The use of violins on 'No Easy Way Down', probably the outstanding song on the record, demonstrated that Rain Parade had also mastered the art of additional noises.
Having donned their steel chaps, Jason & The Scorchers served up another pitcher of heady Texan brew spiked with large doses of heavy metal. Lost & Found saw the group in fine form, mixing irreverent cover versions with solid originals and offending purists everywhere. They won't change the world, but they do make it more amusing.
The Beat Farmers ploughed a similarly cheerful furrow, tearing up lush pastures and old garages with careless abandon on Tales Of The New West. Four Big Guitars from Texas took out a patent on mindless guitar vulgarity with the aptly titled Trash, Twang And Thunder, a thoroughly garish romp round the frets which eschewed lyrics and tunes in favour of a below-the-belt chainsaw attack.
Los Lobos won awards, "graced" magazine covers and became everyone's favourite bar stars with the release of How Will The Wolf Survive, a pleasing, if somewhat overrated, concoction of ancient and almost modern sounds. True West doubled their album count with Drifters, which lacked the amphetamine frenzy of its predecessor, but offered ample compensation in the song department. Early sessions for the LP were produced by Tom Verlaine, who released his fourth solo LP, Cover, an object lesson in dynamics and hollow-cheeked melodicism to whipper-snappers in general.
Robert Cray and his band homed in on that regrettably left-field form of musical expression, the blues, with the LP Bad Influence and a series of live exhibitions in sweating with style, while John Fogerty set the seal on a year of roots and rootlessness with Centerfield - and it's not every year he makes a record.

Pete Clark in The ROCK YEARBOOK Vol. VI, 1985