Chapter 13 - Crisco Disco

(Drive-In/BeBop, 2000)

Tomorrow I am going to join a gym, and then, when next we meet on the beach or the boulevard, I’ll beat you up. WITH MY ABS. I think I’m taking a positive step here; if I can maintain the discipline to go on a regular basis, it’ll add further structure to my life, helping me achieve my long-term goal of having almost every day rigidly planned out with a set series of activities far, far in advance. As it stands, I have the following “must-do” checkpoints during each weekday: wake up, go to the coffee shop, go to work, read certain political blogs at certain points in the day, have my 2:30pm coffee, walk up and down the fire escape (33 flights) for exercise at the end of work, go home, review a 7”, follow baseball, do my sit-ups and push-ups, go to bed. I can certainly insert a daily visit to the gym between the office and my record listening, and that’ll happily keep me out of trouble during those tricky late-evening hours. And make me STRONG. So I can kick the ass of crappy records like the one I’m playing at this very moment. This is pure ’80s synthpop, chilly and wimpy, with mannered Morrissey-style vocals crooning along atop the drum machines and frosty keys. I never cared for stuff like this; it always came off overwrought and anti-fun, and Chapter 13 offends doubly in that the group is doing what amounts to an impression of that already hollow sound. It’s a good impression, yes, but the melodies – which could have won me over and made the record worthwhile – are ultimately unremarkable, and, annoyingly, it’s never quite possible to get past that initial reaction of, “Hey, this sounds just like…” So yeah. Pass. “Crisco Disco” is as predictable as the deadening, routinized life I envision for myself, but somehow even less interesting. With my future brawn I give it the ol’ heave-ho.

The Chap - I Got Flattened By A Pig Farmer

(Lo, 2002)

Two examples of quirktastic electro-pop from these underrated European goofballs. “I Got Flattened By a Pig Farmer” is all about its pitter-pattering beats and sneaky bassline (though the surprise fiddle attack at the end is fun), more a chilly 12” club thingy than a proper pop/rock song, and quite representative of the less inspired moments on Chap full-lengths. The B-side, “Remember Elvis Rex,” is better, the dual-vox monotone spitting out the nonsensical lyrics over warm, distorted synths and electronic bleeps, comparable to an embryonic Caribou crossed with the Flying Lizards. Both songs are on the subsequent LP The Horse – as well as a promo CDR single that adds the rarity “I’m Hurtn” – but anyone interested in The Chap would be best served by finding the later “(Hats Off to) Dror Frangi” EP, whose synth burps and guitar explosions do a near-perfect job of balancing pop brilliance with rock-band posturing and gratuitous electro weirdness. If you’re conscious and breathing, it doesn’t get too much better than the likes of “I Am Oozing Emotion.”

Gene Chandler - Duke Of Earl

(Vee-Jay, 1962)

Everyone in town knows “Duke of Earl” for its famous doo-wop “Duke-Duke-Duke-Duke of Earl” chant, but don’t ignore its smooth lead vocal and boastful lyrics, especially the wonderful “As I walk through this world / Nothing can stop / The Duke of Earl.” And I’ll be durned if Gene Chandler himself didn’t take to strutting through these lands with his very own cane, cape, and monocle after the song hit it big! Can’t blame him; it’s a solid look. The B-side is “Kissin’ In the Kitchen,” and here Chandler ditches the doo-wop elements of the A for full-on snappy soul ala Jackie Wilson. It’s not raunchy or percussive enough to be a true raver, but it does make for a passable little party number and shows that Chandler – who ended up sticking around through the disco era – had some tricks up his sleeve beyond that doggone delightfully-offbeat “Duke of Earl.” Listening to the single, it’s strange to hear something seemingly so far removed from the British Invasion and still detect the roots of the Beatles: “Anna (Go to Him),” a cover of which appears on Please Please Me, has a chorus that utilizes very similar vocal stylings and phrasings as “Duke.” Huh!

caUSE co-MOTION! - Who's Gonna Care?

(Can’t Cope!, 2008)

Listening to peppy jump music like this makes me feel guilty after a day of extreme Sunday sloth where my lone activity of note was a trip to a local flea market (which was also attended by Jon Spencer). Gotta pull it together. Keep my brain working even if my body isn’t. Ready? Ready. Here are some words about the third caUSE co-MOTION 7”: While it’s the same frantic crash-bang-boom of the earlier records (I don’t think the group is gonna be reinventing its own wheel any time soon), the songwriting is getting noticeably stronger and the sound quality is much improved – check out the low-end on these babies! I was definitely feeling the like-a-faster-Pastels thing more than ever on this single (particularly the shambolic punk-pop of “Who’s Gonna Care?”), and that’s a comparison I’m always happy to have my ears make for me. So hoorays and hoorahs all around; quality/consistency roolz, and these guys have quality/consistency up the rear.

And! On the business side, this 45 seems to be self-released; reckon it’s a one-off stopover on the band’s way to big-league Slumberland Records, who’ll be putting out a 7” and a singles comp later this year. Look to shoplift those soonish, fans.

caUSE co-MOTION! - Which Way Is Up?

(What’s Your Rupture?, 2006)

On this, America’s shortest single ™, caUSE co-MOTION is a little more clean and confident in the instrumental dept, but happily still sounding confused and adenoidal (“Which way is up?!”), a morning-after Elvis Costello stumbling through the streets on a wild-eyed hangover-high. As before, it’s locomotive plow-ahead with a few triplets-and-cymbal-crashes to break the momentum at regular intervals. Ace poo, fellas, ace. “Falling Again,” however, with its vocal effects, multiple guitar parts, and non-rock drum beat gets a little too cute for its own good and ends up falling flat over the course of its typically-brief runtime. See, rocking simple is pretty much rocking swell for these guys – and I’ve witnessed the live shows to prove it – so there’s no shame in keeping it plain. You hear? Don’t get all fancypants and POINDEXTER-Y on my ears, doodz. After all, I’m no NERD, says my mom.

caUSE co-MOTION! - This Just Won't Last

(What’s Your Rupture?, 2005)

It’s a concentrated blast of trashy fun from caUSE co-MOTION on the band’s first single (after an earlier split), four hopped-up short ones that clatter past like some sorta rustbucket partymobile. The songs are part late-’50s guitar sound, but all ’60s garage energy, totally nervous and sweaty with maybe a hint of kick-yer-ass snottiness. Treble and echo… it’s shit-fi pop ’n’ roll in a swanky, four-panel, silkscreened sleeve. Do the herky-jerk.

Cathode - Sweet Baja

(Castle von Buhler, 1998)

Boston three-piece turns out two instros in the post-rock vein, but with a definite East Coast psych influence looming large – no recycled Tortoise-isms here. “Sweet Baja” is a cozy, rainy-day nod-off; a meatier, more assertive take on what the American Analog Set was doing, but still a total slow-mo cough-syrup downer. The B-side speeds it up for the propulsive “Fighter Pilot,” which is driven by a steady almost-Kraut bass-drum thump and occasional snare explosions. Rhythmic guitar with rapid crescendos and decrescendos seals the deal on this one, even if it could stand to be a whole lot longer (That’s a compliment, see. Gimme MORE!).

There were a lot of bands of this sort around Boston in the late 1990s… Lockgroove, Charlene, Abunai!, Cul de Sac. Cathode doesn’t seem to be as versatile or strong as those first two – would def be reserves on any All-Star team – but this is a nice little quiet/loud single with enough obvious promise to make it unfortunate that it didn’t lead to a much longer career. Trust an internet stranger: you should start searching them dollar bins if you weep tears of joy over rockin’ ’90s instrumental psych, cuz this is a bowling ball right up your alley.