FLEXIDISCOVERING JAPAN

Trouser Press, March 1982
Japan
Life Without Buildings



David Sylvain: We're well chuffed that you're doing a Japan flexi, but we just had a couple of small requests.

Trouser Press: OK, shoot.

DS: Right. First, could you make the disc roughly the same color as David Bowie's eye makeup in the “Life on Mars?” video?

TP: Done.

DS: Second, we'd like the track to be the almost entirely instrumental, six-plus minute long, cod-Asian, sub-Joy Division B-side to our UK single, “The Art of Parties.”

TP: No prob.

DS: Finally, we'd like it to appear in an issue that features a cover story on Abacab-era Genesis and carries a photo of Mike Rutherford, Phil Collins, and Tony Banks wearing a set of natty '80s sweaters.

TP: You're in luck!

TO BE A MUSICIAN SHE GOES TO SCHOOL

Trouser Press, February 1982
Holly and the Italians
1. Poster Boy
2. Medley (I Wanna Go Home/Miles Away/Tell That Girl to Shut Up)



There was a time when it was the ultimate insult to call a band “faceless.”

The appellation was generally reserved for your Foreigners and your Styxes and your Kansases. You know-- bland, colorless, corporate rock.

But I have to admit, I couldn't pick Holly and the Italians from a sassy power-pop lineup of themselves, the Waitresses, Josie Cotton, and say, Martha and the Muffins.

Probably the signal characteristic of Holly and the Italians was the one that was shared by the others of their ilk: a single, defining song.

In the case of Holly and company, that song was Tell That Girl to Shut Up, and it's included on this bright, opaque lipstick-red flexi as part of a medley with two lesser songs.

It is Rip Her to Shreds writ sideways, and awesome at that.

Transvision Vamp covered it in the late '80s, adding a British accent, booming late '80s drums, and a face.

But I'll take the brilliant anonymity of the Holly and the Italians original every time...

PLACE COIN HERE IF SOUNDSHEET SLIPS

Trouser Press issued its first flexi disc bound into subscriber copies of the January, 1982 issue.

The discs were manufactured by Evatone Soundsheets out of Florida, who had apparently introduced flexible records to the consumer market back in 1960. Evatone closed up shop fairly recently, after declaring bankruptcy back in 2008.

Trouser Press issued these flexis over the next couple of years, alternating between basic black and a rainbow of different colors.

My goal here is to do a quick survey of the color flexis. Or more specifically, the color flexis that I have in my possession.

That very first flexi from back in January of 1982 was this one-sided, canary-yellow disc that contained two songs from Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark: New Stone Age (or more properly, The New Stone Age) and Bunker Soldiers, which appeared on their third and first albums, respectively.



If all you know of OMD is If You Leave from the Pretty in Pink soundtrack, you might be surprised at the industrial post-punkiness of the music on this bright yellow sheet...

IN YOUR HEAD

I have not read The Walking Dead graphic novels, but I'm enjoying the series on AMC well enough.

This year's season premiere had one quick scene that hinted at the subversive potential of the show.

The protagonists were searching for a missing member of their party, and they came across a church. When the group entered the church, they found three or four zombies sitting in pews staring up at a crucifix.

The zombies were dispatched quickly, and the church setting then became a tableau for the various crises of faith among the living.

But I really hope the show gets back to exploring that whole resurrection/zombie angle at some point...

I KNOW THIS MUCH IS TRUE

October 19.

I WANT A NEW LIFE FOR EVERYWHERE

Earlier today I was listening to an iTunes playlist named “old school punk.”

It's pretty rudimentary stuff: Ramones, Clash, Sex Pistols, Damned, Buzzcocks. I had thrown in some Wire, X, and Blondie toward the end, in the interest of heterodoxy.

I made a CD of these songs last year for Ma-chan...

When I was in Japan with the family last summer, I had the chance to spend a day with my 23-year old nephew, Ma-chan. His dad took us all to a large park, with the express purpose of playing “catch ball.” This was a reprise of what we had done when I was visiting a few years prior.

As we drove to the park, Ma-chan commandeered the radio, inching the volume up on an Asian Kung-Fu Generation CD. His father, a school Vice Principal, was remarkably tolerant, and simply raised his voice a little to converse above the noise.

The talk turned eventually to punk rock, and Ma-chan was clearly delighted to hear that I had a long acquaintance with the genre. We went back and forth on the topic in broken English/Japanese, relying occasionally on Taeko's translation.

He was not too familiar with the history of punk, so I promised that I would burn a CD for him, which I was able to do right before we left for America.

I could tell that Ma-chan was traveling on a slightly irregular path, and I wanted this mix to convey to him some of what I had always valued most about punk. I wanted it to communicate tenacity, hope, and courage. I wanted it to let him know that he would surely make it through all right...

Last night at about 1:00 am, Taeko's phone rang next to the bed. We both bolted up with a start, and I went to the bathroom. When I returned to bed, she was still on the phone, speaking in Japanese. I could register in her voice equal measures of shock and sympathy. She hung up, and I reached over to touch her on the elbow.

“Ma-chan is dead. A car accident.”

And that's what punk rock means to me...

WHAT YOU SAY ABOUT SOCIETY

Look, I know that Rush Limbaugh is many moons past his cultural/political sell-by date, but what can I say-- I'm a fan of batshit insanity...

Rush had the following to say about a Michelle Obama shopping trip to Target:

"What a phony-baloney plastic banana good-time rock-and-roller optic photo-op."

Take sec to parse that. It's like a goddam Donovan lyric.

Then consider that he's describing, um, a trip to Target.

Damn, I wanna party with you, Rusholme...

FIRE MY IMAGINATION

OK, Stevie Jackson from Belle & Sebastian is coming out with a solo album.

The name of the album is "(I Can't Get No) Stevie Jackson."

I think we can all agree that this is the greatest album title ever.

Greatest. Ever.

Stevie Jackson, you magnificent bastard...

LET'S BEGIN AGAIN

So, the end of R.E.M. sent me scurrying down to the sliced tongue vault in search of artifacts from the early days. Here's some of what I dug up.

The earliest review I could find was a quick and complimentary write up of the original Hib-Tone Radio Free Europe single. This appeared in the "America Underground" section of the April, 1982 issue of Trouser Press:



The December, 1982 "Green Circles" column in TP contained a favorable review of Chronic Town:



The same issue also contained a flexi disc of Wolves, Lower, the other side of which featured one of the two good Lords of the New Church singles (Russian Roulette).



I realize that these black flexis don't scan particularly well. Someday soon I'll do a more comprehensive post on the Trouser Press flexis, which came in a rainbow of cool colors beyond basic black...

Finally, here's a Creem profile from October, 1984, just for kicks:

RAPID EYE MOVEMENT

It was about a week and a half ago, and I was driving home on 7100. My family had returned at the end of August, but I was still experiencing pockets of the anxiety I typically feel when they're out of the country.

My rational mind knows that they will come back from Japan, but while they're gone I tend to get weighted down by a foundational loneliness that does not answer to reason. And I was still stuck in that rut...

I came to a red light and slid my way through the iTunes menu, looking for something I needed to hear. Looking for anything I needed to hear.

“That's it!”

I selected the track, and the drum fills came tripping through the speakers.

“That's great, it starts with an earthquake...”

Now, I don't quite understand the Tufnelian logic behind my car stereo, but I immediately turned the volume up past 40. Loud. It felt good.

Folks did not know what to make of It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine) when it came out back in '87. Hell, R.E.M. didn't know what to make of it. I can remember reading an interview with Peter Buck right before Document was released, and he said that it was either the best or the worst thing they'd ever done.

The beauty of the song is that beyond its nihilistic feint, it's propulsive and metallic and goddam life affirming.

It's not the end of the world, remember. It's the end of the world as we know it. And I feel fine.

So thank you, R.E.M., for all the murmurs and reckonings and fables and documents you've left behind.

I just know that somewhere right now at some red light someone is turning the volume up past 40...

“That's great, it starts with an earthquake...”

LET'S ALL EMOTE

I tend to serialize albums.

Back in the day, I spent months listening to the first side of Murmur, then eventually, more months listening to the second side.

When I fell for Hissing Fauna, it was initially enough to listen up to or through The Past is a Grotesque Animal, and then stop. After about six months of that, I would either start with that song or right after it, and then on through to the end, my obsession unabated.

I've now made it through the first five songs of David Comes to Life by Fucked Up. Which, frankly, is further than I might have expected to get with an album that is so centered on retro hardcore hoarse-whispering vocals. I mean, Christ, I had no use for Henry Rollins in 1984, let alone now...

But I am finding something charming about the whole affair, right down to its four-act rock-opera lightbulb-factory soul.

In my dream world, where EPs are king, this thing would have come out as four individual one-act discs, with a new disc released every other month or so. Which would have saved me the trouble of trying to self-serialize the damn thing.

But since the responsibility is on my shoulders now, I don't know if I'll ever get past Act 1...

SEE SPOTIFY RUN

I'm finding that Spotify is a great research tool.

For example, let's say I was reading an interview with Kevin Ayers in the Oct/Nov 1976 edition of Trouser Press, and the references to Soft Machine made me realize that there's a whole strain of English art rock about which I know some of the history, but precious little of the sound.

I could then use Spotify to listen to a bit of Soft Machine, and probably find I didn't have the patience for it. Then, I might listen to some of Ayers solo stuff, and determine that his most-lauded tracks left me unmoved.

From there, I'd indulge a long-term curiosity in Robert Wyatt, and come out of it kind of obsessed with his 1997 album, Shleep. I'd probably think that Shleep reminds me of solo Jim O'Rourke, except with a gravity and whimsy that I didn't realize I was missing in O'Rourke until I heard Wyatt.

This is all theoretical, you understand. The thought that I might actually sit around reading 35-year-old copies of Trouser Press is just absurd.

Um, yeah...

Anyway, here's a clip of Wyatt performing September the 9th. Because, well, check your calendars...

HUDDLED IN STORMS

Beyond earthquakes, hurricanes, and root canals, here's what has occupied my time while the family was in Japan:

• I took the plunge on a Spotify premium subscription. I'm liking the idea of having access to lots of music without the burden of ownership.

• I've developed a completely nonironic love of Rick Steves' Europe. I could watch it for hours.

• A Bon Iver obsession didn't take, but honestly I never gave it much of a chance. Can't force these things, after all-- they need to just happen...

• I compiled a small yet vital collection of low-res cell-phone pics of Taeko, shot by Lana.

• Finished that 33 1/3 book on Some Girls-- it remained sloppy to the end. Then I started the one on Marquee Moon, although I was somewhat dismayed to find that the author had co-written a book with the guy who wrote the Some Girls entry. Incest much, Continuum?

• Started reading Stone Arabia yesterday. So far, so good.

• Still haven't quite finished that copy of Bob Dylan in America that my boss shared with me. I'm a little over halfway through, and we're already on '90s Dylan, which is kind of dampening my enthusiasm for the rest of the book.

• I had what must be one of my top 5 most-liberating haircuts this past Friday. As I watched the brown and gray hair cascade down the front of my slick maroon smock, I swear I could feel my soul getting lighter...

BOHEMIAN'S RHAPSODY

I realized just last weekend that there are two consecutive songs on Beggars Banquet that use the phrase "poor boy."

There's no thesis here beyond this simple one: I am a dumbass.

PAID ON FRIDAY

• If I ever curate a rock festival, I'm going to call it “Humdinger.”

• It amazes me that the mainstream media still has not figured out a way to reproduce George Steinbrenner's full quote regarding Hideki Irabu. Try “pus-y” people, as in pus-filled-- “pussy” will just get your editors' collective drawers in a knot...

• A few years ago, I got deep into Ships by Danielson while my family was in Japan for the summer. Well, they're back over there for another visit, and my early pick to click is the new Bon Iver.

• And sorry, Fleet Foxes, but I'm pretty sure it's just not going to happen. I mean, there were a lot of nice, right-thinking people who liked Crosby, Stills, and Nash back in the day too, but I would not have been one of them either.

• A suburban legend from my childhood: You know in Miss You, when Mick sings “Puerto Rican girls that are just dyin' to meechu”? Well “meechu” means “fuck” in Spanish. For real. Ms Krebs of our 7th-grade Spanish class would neither confirm nor deny...

• From my 15-year old niece last weekend: “Do you still have any Sonic Youth CDs? I found the ones you gave my mom a few years ago, and I wanted to hear some more.” Youth against fascism, bitches!

• Dear Rebecca Black,
  “Friday” was transcendently pure and awful-- we've been singing it around the house for months now. I love it because it's the exact thing a 13-year old should produce with a $4,000 bankroll from mom. It's a cultural bellwether right up there with the first Ramones album. But this new American-Idolesque self-empowerment anthem? You just stepped off the curb, sweetheart.
  

• And so I leave you all today with this...

AMY WINEHOUSE

Shit, shit, shit...

MY BOY LOLLIPOP

Sebastian was playing candy shop with his friends today, selling Tootsie Pops from a foot-long red-plastic candy machine that we've had for years now.

This was his business model: one for 10 cents, two for a quarter.

Methinks the boy is onto something...

FAR AWAY EYES

OK, just like last week, I begin by declaring that I'm a fan of Continuum's
33 1/3 series.

But I just started reading the entry on Some Girls, and encountered further sloppiness not a quarter of the way in:



Now, I put this picture in front of 12-year old Lana and told her there was a problem, and she sniffed it out in under 12 seconds.

Note to caption writer: Mayor Beame is holding a copy of the Daily News, not the Post.

Which leads us to today's tabloid headline:

sliced tongue to Continuum: Get a Fecking Proofreader

LIKE AVERSION

I bought a $4 used copy of Madonna's Immaculate Collection at Bookoff in Manhattan on the 4th of July.

Which leads us to this week's maxim: Never trust anyone who wouldn't spend $4 on Madonna's Immaculate Collection.

EVERYONE'S ACCUSING ME

I'm a fan of Continuum's 33 1/3 series. These are bite-sized books each dedicated to a single album, and some are quite insightful and entertaining.

However, others feel like they're fighting a bit too hard for a tenure track.

To wit, I just finished reading the entry on the Ramones' debut album, and commenting on the “second verse, same as the first” refrain in Judy is a Punk, the author notes:

"Although too much could be made of the affinities between these self-reflexive lines and experiments in metafiction-- fiction that breaks the frame and refers to the fact that it is fiction-- it's clear that the songs self-aware qualities were products of the same cultural trends that made possible the experimental, frame-breaking novels of Kurt Vonnegut, Thomas Pynchon, Hubert Selby, Charles Bukowski, William Gaddis, and others.”

Um, yeah. Either that, or it is a direct quote from one of the biggest hits by British Invasion popsters Herman's Hermits: I'm Henry the VIII, I Am:





Just my opinion you understand, but I think it's important for someone writing a book on the Ramones to know their Herman's Hermits at least as well as they know their Horkheimer and Adorno...