The 45rpm vinyl format isn’t dead. In fact, I see more of those little seven-inchers in my mailbox these days than I did even a couple of years ago. Here I take a look at four recent submissions. None is at all musically like the others, and seven out of the eight songs are highly recommended.
Reading about this one, I was expecting some sort of Americana-oriented sounds. In fact the press sheet sent along with the disc (actually a 33rpm record) notes that the “touring band is an eclectic six-piece outfit with upright bass, cello, lap steel, bow saw and percussion…” But that’s not the vibe they conjure on ”So Help Me God.” They stomp through the song, sounding like a more melody-oriented Arcade Fire with better songwriting and a singer whose voice doesn’t grate on me. The flip, “Camouflage,” does present a slightly more acoustic-flavored approach; the haunted and breathy vocals, shimmering guitars and sparse, echoey production recall Big Star‘s Third. How can that not be great? And the direction the tune takes in its final minute is an unexpected treat. Plenty of shade and light on this record; if it’s a teaser to a forthcoming long-player, I’m all ears. White vinyl.
Ska in 2012? Well, okay. Sounding like some bizarre cross between Warren Zevon and Mental As Anything, “Summer Roof” features peppy horns and a fun, shouted chorus. But the song detours into a lovely midsection that’s as far from bluebeat as one can get – it’s singer/songwriter-ish, even – before launching back into an exuberant yakety-sax solo. Loads of fun, this one. The flip “I’m Jes’ Sayin’” has a relaxed, jazzy vibe with some soulful vocals backed by some lovely, creamy oohs. As the song unfolds, it’s reminiscent of Pete Yorn‘s work circa Nightcrawler. This song could easily be the work of a different band, but since it’s not, I’m left to think that Berlin has an impressively wide stylistic palette.
Calling to mind the fun, sleazy and swaggering era that brought us Sweet, Alice Cooper and Suzi Quatro, “Blame it On the Brandy” makes no concessions to modernity: it’s timeless in its approach. Handclaps, a straightforward earworm riff (albeit one that owes more than a little to “Bony Maronie”) and plenty of power chords all come together to remind you that – Gary Glitter be damned – glam rock was a helluva lot of mindless fun. Some dual lead guitar work on the outro is a not-so-subtle hat-tip to Thin Lizzy. The flip, “Marionette” is every bit as good, sounding as it does like a lost prime-era Elton John track without the piano. Some Queen-like guitar heroics are icing on this glammy cake. Woo-hoo indeed. Full album, please…stat.
A lo-fi vibe and a slightly dorky campfire feel provide the basis for Dr. Manhattan’s song that seems to be mostly about smokin’ that shit. With a musical approach that’s a little bit like Violent Femmes, it’s fun in a rickety-jalopy sort of way. I can’t help picturing these guys in vests and fedoras, smirking their way through this barrelhouse romp, but it’s fun enough for what it is, in a modest sort of way. The flip from Dormlife is much stronger: it features tight’n'lovely vocal harmonies, a jittery stop/start melody, taut drum work, some aggressive acoustic guitar strumming and bursts of rubbery bass. Hard to pin down stylistically, it’s a sort of tuneful rethink of Red Hot Chili Peppers. Or something. Something good. Verdict: the “hot” song is relatively weak while the “weak” one is tasty stuff indeed. Clear red vinyl.
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There’s no point in tip-toeing around it: blues guitarist Johnny Winter is old and frail. The cumulative effects of decades of drug and alcohol abuse/addiction (happily, he’s clean now) coupled with the medical problems associated with albinism make the odds unlikely that Winter would even still walk this Earth at age 68. But indeed he does, and in addition to getting clean, he’s also now benefiting from sympathetic management (something he lacked for many years as well), and is getting control of his back catalog back, slowly but surely.
The Move are one of those sixties groups that got lost in the transatlantic shuffle. They arguably had it all: great songwriting, strong vocalists, an a ready-made visual image. A near-perfect mix of super-catchy pop melodicism, heavier-than-heavy riffage, ambitious art-pop leanings and a penchant for controversy, The Move should have been huge in the USA.
As Shoes bassist John Murphy told me in our 
When Gary moved [the most recent time], he built a studio in his basement. And he had been buying gear all along on eBay: top-notch microphones and outboard gear. So the whole approach shifted; before we had a 24-track analog board. Now things have obviously shifted into digital. So Gary was learning Cubase and those programs on the run.
The whole thing about playing live is this: it’s one of those things for which there are no short cuts. Once we get cracking, and do show after show – and we were doing that in the early and mid 80s – it’s like second nature. We roll with the punches, with the problems that happen. But later on, what complicates that is when it’s not the only thing you’re doing – when you’re holding down a forty-plus hour a week job, or you’re married, whatever it is – all these things make it tougher.
We lost our clubhouse when we sold our studio. We took that for granted; we had our amps set up there, and could rehearse. Now, it’s more complicated; we do a combination of Gary’s house, and Jeff’s place. We did figure it out, and we do play live. But to spend weeks of rehearsal to do one show is difficult. I’d love to go out and do a tour that was put together by some professionals, so that we didn’t have to do the planning. Lately – and by lately, I mean for the last 20 years – if we don’t do it, it doesn’t get done.
John Murphy (bass, vocals): Even before Elektra, we were being courted by Seymour Stein of Sire Records. And remember: he had Talking Heads and Ramones on his label, but neither one of those bands were hugely successful; they were underground.
JM: [laughs] Totally. Or “dates,” or whatever you want to call them.
We had a deal before we had management. It was an ass-backward situation. We loved our manager then and now, but he was befuddled too. He saw the mistakes happening; he could see the train wreck coming. We begged them to do some videos for MTV, which had started in fall 1981. We said, “Give us some money; we can breathe some life into this.” But by then it was long-dead in their minds.
And I really think it’s an analogy for any band. Because it’s not made-up, and Mary puts the Shoes story in the context of what was happening, reflecting the time and the music industry back then. For example, we got signed at the beginning of the ’79 crash in the record industry. By the end of that year, things were going crazy. Records were shipping platinum, but getting platinum returns! In a way, we sort of scuffled our way through things, in some of the positions we found ourselves in.
BK: All of a sudden, there’s a flurry of Shoes related activity. The new Ignition album, the upcoming book, a series of vinyl reissues from Numero, and Real Gone Music has a compilation, 35 Years: The Definitive Shoes Collection 1977-2012. Is there some sort of over-arching answer to the “Why now?” question?
Between day-job commitments, (happy) personal matters, and blog-related travel, these are busy days at Musoscribe World Headquarters. My goal is to deliver fresh, new content – usually 500-1000 words – every business day. And for more than three years going, I’ve kept to that goal nearly every day. Every rare so-often, however, I just don’t quite get a piece done in time for my self-imposed deadline schedule. Today’s one of those days. So instead I’ll take a moment to give a preview of upcoming content. Because, you see, I never, ever seem to run out of material.
