Today’s Halloween track is Mike Rimbaud’s Midnight in America. It’s a slinky, vamping, funk-tinged psychedelic broadside that throws an appreciative not back at Gil Scott-Heron. “Nuclear codes for the game-show host, got his middle finger on the trigger…no protest, no privacy, wake up America!” The reference to that famously satanic Stones riff couldn’t be more spot-on.
Dark rock crooner Phil Gammage got his start as a teenager in the 1980s as the lead guitarist for legendary downtown NYC postpunk band Certain General. It’s probably safe to say that without them, there may have been no Jesus & Mary Chain or Brian Jonestown Massacre. While Certain General have been resurrected in various configurations over the years, Gammage has enjoyed a prolific career as a bandleader, sideman and small label honcho. His latest album Used Man for Sale is streaming at Bandcamp. He’s likely to air some of those songs out with his band on July 6 at around 9 at the Parkside, one of the few Lower East Side venues that hasn’t turned into a fulltime tourist trap.
The album opens with Arms of a Kind Woman, a blend of the purist Chicago blues that Gammage has been mining recently, but with a guarded Nick Cave optimism. Vocally, Gammage draws on both Cave and ’68 comeback-era Elvis, although Gammage could croon like this when Cave was still screaming about big Jesus trashcans. Interestingly, this record is more vocally than guitar-oriented — although the solo that ends it is a real monster.
Lowlit by Johnny Young’s oldschool slip-key honkytonk piano, Maybe Tomorrow is a gothic take on George Jones/Tammy Wynette C&W, Gammage’s brooding baritone in tandem with with Michele Butler’s uneasy harmonies over the slinky rhythm section of bassist Frank DiNunzio III and drummer Kevin Tooley (also of political rocker Mike Rimbaud’s band).
The band keeps the slinky, red-neon noir going through I Beg of You, part doomed fat Elvis, part haunted Otis Rush blues, with a knifes-edge guitar solo from the bandleader. The title track is a bitter oldschool soul ballad with a blue-flame guitar burn:
It’s my world, or what I tried to forget of it
All I am is a used man for sale
I had dreams, threw them all away
Hopes and schemes left for better days…
Ride With Railroad Bill is akin to 60s Johnny Cash fronting the Bad Seeds circa 1995. Feeling the Hurt has echoes of Roy Orbison in rare optimistic mode: “It took me too long to get this far, and I paid too high of a price,” Gammage observes.
Before I Leave has an ominously vamping latin noir Doors/Frank Flight Band ambience: listen closely for a cool allusion to a classic cut from LA Woman. Fueled by Gammage’s slide work, Tenderloin comes across as a less frantic, more purist take on what Jon Spencer was doing 20 years ago (and sorry to bust anybody’s bubble, but even San Francisco’s Tenderloin district has been been overrun by yuppies).
“The city awaits, it’s your playground,” Gammage intones with crushing sarcasm in Lost in Loserville, a bluesy anti-gentrifier broadside and the album’s funniest track. It winds up with the Doorsy blues Staring Out Our Window. Gammage has been on a lot of good albums over the years, and this might be the best of them all; it’s inspiring to see a guy who’s been around this long at a high point in a four-decade artistic career.
Mike Rimbaud recorded his grimly prophetic Going Down to Trumpistan – a free download – before last night’s election results.It’s sort of a mashup of early, classic Public Enemy and late 60s Carlos Santana. In his ominous baritone, the New York songwriter considers how
Journalists are the enemy
Torture is an art, seriously
Crowd control
No privacy
Going down, down, down to Trumpistan
He’s playing Otto’s this Saturday night at 11: it’ll be a party for our right to fight.
And for historical context, here’s Gil Scott-Heron’s similarly prophetic 1976 requiem, Winter in America.
Like the vultures circling beneath the dark clouds
Looking for the rain
Just like the cities that stagger on the coastline
And a nation that can’t stand much more
It’s Winter in America
All of the heroes have been killed, sent away
It’s Winter in America
And ain’t nobody fighting
‘Cause nobody knows what to say
Much like Ward White, Mike Rimbaud has quietly and methodically built a vast catalog of wickedly smart, catchy, relevant lyrical rock songs. Where White has drawn on janglerock, Americana, chamber pop and most recently, an artsy glam sound, Rimbaud looks back to new wave and punk, but also to reggae, and jazz, and Phil Ochs. White’s narratives are elusive to the extreme; Rimbaud’s are disarmingly direct, with a savagely spot-on political sensibility. A strong case could be made that no other New York artist represents this city’s defiantly populist past – or, one hopes, its future – more than Mike Rimbaud. He’s playing the album release show for his characteristically excoriating new one, Put That Dream in Your Pipe and Smoke It (streaming at Spotify) at Bowery Electric at 8:30 PM on Jan 15. Cover is eight bucks.
The album title alone is intriguing. Is it a pipe dream to think that we could create a world that improves on the current paradigm of speculators taking their profits private and passing all their losses off to an increasingly destitute public? Should we take Rimbaud’s suggestion as a challenge, as fuel for our imagination…or is he just throwing a cynical swipe at dashed hopes? Whichever the case, isn’t that what song lyrics should do: draw you in, keep your interest, maybe make you laugh a little, and think at the same time?
The album opens with Frequent Flyer Subway Rider, a cruelly evocative narrative which will resonate with any New Yorker who shares Rimbaud’s feeling that we deserve a few free rides for all we’ve suffered with the trains over the years. Rimbaud plays all the guitars on the album, with Chris Fletcher on bass and Kevin Tooley on drums; Lee Feldman’s bluesy Rhodes piano perfectly matches Rimbaud’s gritty ambience here.
Friend is a snarling, reverbtoned new wave update on Highway 61 era Dylan, a slap at social media addicts that’s as funny as it is accurate: “Your BFF is only BS,” Rimbaud snickers. Likewise, Rimbaud takes a blackly amusing look at the all-too-real dangers of fracking in Shale ‘n’ Roll over brooding bolero-rock that wouldn’t be out of place on a Las Rubias Del Norte album, Marc Billon’s creepy electric piano matching Rimbaud’s watery menace.
Over a vamping psychedelic rock backdrop that offers a wink to Dave Brubeck, Know Nothing Know It All makes gleeful fun of limousine liberals, both among the electorate and the elected: “Owned by Coke, and the Koch brothers,” Rimbaud reminds, Feldman laying down a serpentine groove.
Erik Friedlander’s ambered cello lines anchor the swaying, jangly Apple Doesn’t Mean Apple Anymore and its sardonic wordplay, a look at how corporate newspeak subtly replaces everyday language. Poverty Is a Thief, a Gil Scott-Heron-inspired duet with soul singer Danni Gee, makes the connection between the credit trap and the prison-industrial complex.
Among the album’s more lighthearted numbers, Paris Is the Heart sends a shuffling, stream-of-consciousness latin-rock shout-out to that city’s haunts. The requisite Marley-esque reggae song here is Tears Don’t Fall in Outer Space; the album ends with a cover of the Clash’s Rock the Casbah, revealing it as the prophetic anthem it turned out to be. For what it’s worth, Rimbaud has never sung better than he does here. Where he used to snarl, he’s more likely to croon these days, which is somewhat ironic considering how much unbridled wrath there is in these songs. Another winner from a guy who refuses to quit.
One final day of videos and singles and then there’ll be a brand-new New York City live music calendar up here. That’s why all these videos! It literally takes days to pull the calendar together, which explains why so many videos and such have been stockpiled here over the past month. More concerts and albums coming on October 2. Til then:
Mike Rimbaud is one of the surprisingly few artists who realize that in a lot of respects, we’ve gone back to an age of singles instead of albums. That’s not to say that people don’t make albums anymore: he does that, too. His coolest single of late is The Ballad of Anthony Weiner, which does its best to humanize (well, semi-humanize) a serial sexter. And it’s not just joke-rock – that’s a neat, slinky latin soul groove he’s got going (itunes). The other one is Learning More About Less, a savage slap upside the head of teeenage textards and faceboogers (youtube). But all is not lost, Mike: the new generation is off Facebook, pays with cash instead of credit cards and is gaining traction for an overthrow of the surveillance state!
Another quintessentially New York group, the noir chamber pop duo Charming Disaster, serenade the virtues of public transportation with their East River Ferry Waltz (bandcamp).
Biggest news of the day is that snarling, twin-guitar Paisley Underground revivalists Mud Blood & Beer are offering their brilliant latest album The Sweet Life as a free download. A lot of this stuff is just as good and menacing as the Dream Syndicate or True West (bandcamp). They’re at the Way Station at 9 on 10/9.
Certain General guitarist Phil Gammage also has a noir thing going on much of the time. He’s got a new single, Giveaway (soundcloud).
Songwriter Melaena Cadiz offers up Bluestem Grass, a collaboration with another paisley underground type, Scott Collberg on dobro and other stringed instruments. It’s a gorgeous rock tune disguised as bluegrass from her single-a-month project (bandcamp).
And Icelandic band Mum have a pretty chamber trip-hop tune, Toothwheels, just out as a 7″ vinyl single (youtube).
Every month, literally thousands of people send links to their videos here. Everybody seems to want their song to be the next Gangnam Style. What’s funny is that what was supposedly a completely organic, global response to a silly guy dancing to a song in Korean turned out to be fueled by a corporate marketing campaign. And aside from the first week when the video went viral, all of those millions of hits on Youtube turned out to be fake. So before they get stale, here are some videos and cool tracks that aren’t fueled by phony populism driven by corporate money. For some reason, most of this stuff is pretty dark.
All-female Portland, Oregon band La Luz share Sure as Spring, agorgeously creepy surf/dreampop hybrid (soundcloud). Ghost & Gale’s Nashville gothic Take Me to the Fire has the same kind of creepiness (youtube). Italian postpunkers Soviet Soviet have a similarly dark post-Joy Division stomp (soundcloud). And Roadkill Ghost Choir’s Beggars’ Guild adds menacing funeral organ to a highway rock groove with a touch of newgrass. New sound. Very cool (youtube).
Sun Angle’s Diamond Junk is totally 80s goth art-pop – a soaring bassline, layers and layers of guitar and catchy as hell (soundcloud).
Irresistibly charming all-female quirk-rock trio the Debutante Hour have one for their single Doo-Wop Girl (youtube).
Mike Rimbaud’s philosophical, politically inspired Slow Down to Get Ahead suggests we take the A train and maybe see Paris (youtube).
And for a big laugh, here’s the Fortissimo Show Choir doing Spanking Charlene’s Dismissed with a Kiss a-cappella (youtube)!
Long overdue for some video here (click the links below) – comes in handy when there’s a massive update to the monthly NYC live music calendar going on. Out of all the months, the May calendar is the biggest bitch to pull together since all the summer festivals are being announced. So before all this gets stale, here goes, a handful of the best tracks to come over the transom here over the last few months.
Mike Rimbaud offers a sympathetic shout to the guy or girl in front of all the kids with Ritalin or Prozac-fried brains in Teacher’s Got a Bad Mouth, and sends a dis out to the lords of Wall Street with Big Bad Bully. Both tracks from his most recent album Midnight Rainbow.
Noir Britrocker Mike Marlin – who’s at the Highline on June 3 at 8 opening for what’s left of the Stranglers – offers a creepy free download, The Murderer, from his forthcoming solo album. Alec K Redfearn & the Eyesores’ The 7 & 6 – from their phenonenal 2012 album – is even creepier.
Lisbon Street, by Her Majesty is another freebie, a theatrical, psychedelic soul tune with fado overtones.
Beans on Toast’s Beer & a Burger is sort of British Steve Earle or Joe Pug – a sardonic, savagely cynical blue-collar acoustic punk anthem.
Yellow Red Sparks’ A Play to End All Plays is cynical doomed druggie Waitsish oldtimey circus rock. They’re at Union Hall in Park Slope on May 17 at around 10.
Army Navy’s Pickle is total mid-80s Brit-jangle except that they’re from California – an irresistibly clanging, ringing anthemic pop gem.
And here’s another killer free download, Pinknoizu’s Tin Can Valley, a twisted Middle Eastern flavored surf rock tune.
Anders Parker and Kendall Meade had such a good time making Wild Chorus, their album together, they named it after the Knoxville studio where they recorded it. Parker and Meade have a long history working together, going back to the 90s when he fronted Varnaline and shared the stage with Son Volt’s Jay Farrar in Gob Iron while she led the vastly underrated Juicy and then went on to the absolutely brilliant Mascott. All the while, she was being sought out as a collaborator since she has a reputation for elevating every project she touches: this one joins the ranks of Sparklehorse, Helium and the Spinanes, among others. The whole thing is streaming at their Bandcamp page.
What’s interesting about this is that it’s a true collaboration: while the duo trade off on vocals when they aren’t duetting, the album isn’t a case of having “his songs” and “her songs” – the tracks are a showcase for both songwriters’ strengths, Meade bringing a welcome craftsmanship to Parker’s more roughhewn style, Parker adding a haphazard edge to Meade’s polish and sheen. The opening track, We’re on Fire, Babe sets the stage, lingering distorted guitar pairing off against echoey Rhodes piano, swooshy organ and a rhythm section, Meade’s reassuring, reflecting-pool vocals blending with Parker’s twang and polishing down the rusty edges. The nonchalant backbeat acoustic gem City of Greats blends a bit of a vintage C&W feel wth a low-key 80s vibe that evokes Laura Cantrell’s recent work: “What you got isn’t what you would choose, you’re the master of all that you lose,” the duo harmonize with an elegaic matter-of-factness.
Just when it seems that Let’s Get Lost is one of Parker’s gruff tunes, Meade comes in with a knowing coyness and confectionery harmonies. Across the Years layers sweeping slide guitar and gospel-tinged piano and then hits a gently galloping riff before an unpredictable series of interludes that sound like a female-fronted middle-period Wilco. They follow Sleepwalking, a bittersweetly jangly, hypnotically nocturnal ballad with the luscious Dreamers on the Ground, its layers of distorted guitars ringing and clanging artfully against each other in the left and right channels, Parker’s refusal to give in to an eay resolution finding a perfect foil in Meade’s anthemic hooks.
Gettin’ Ready nicks the intro from Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us Apart but quickly goes in the opposite direction of that song with an optimistic anticipation fueled by nonchalant, distorted guitar. Oh Love hits a bullseye with its quietly torchy Lynchian country-soul vibe, while Play It vamps on a psychedelically-tinged organ loop that reminds of Mike Rimbaud. The album ends with The Sun Will Shine Again Someday, a swaying anthem for the current depression that recalls Son Volt: “Times are hard for dreaming eyes, I’d like to sit and watch it all go by,” Parker muses, “I’d like to see them blown away.” That wish notwithstanding, this is not a particularly edgy album, but it’s not shallow, and much of it is ridiculously catchy. Who is the audience for this? Pretty much anybody with a taste for low-key tunefulness. Let’s hope this isn’t the last collaboration between these two. A big shout out to the folks at Nine Mile Records for the good taste to get behind it.
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