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(Rough Trade, 2005)
Arcade Fire was thinking BIG from the get-go: “Power Out” is a massive-sounding, stadium-sized single 4 REALZ. The only things that might indicate “indie” here are the tinkling xylophone and the quiver-n-yelp vocals; the rest is ultra-confident Rock chug-a-lug. It’s an exciting and impressive piece o’ work, with an almost dance-y rhythm guitar part keeping the energy up throughout. The B-side is a rougher version recorded prior to the influx of label money, and shows how the band would have approached the Funeral material had it remained unsigned. The result isn’t radically different from what was finally released, but it does retain some of the raw, Mercury Rev-esque charm of the self-titled EP. Nevertheless, that big-stage, fist-pumpin’ ambition punches its way through, even on this no-budget take.
And I don’t know if it’s just my copy, but the vinyl on this one sounds AWFUL. Like unacceptably bad. What gives?
(Earworm, 1998)
It’s hard to say which influence’s name is most appropriate to invoke here. The Neu beat is in place, but there’s also the kind of groovy shimmer that only Harmonia seemed to have down. Either way, this is total Kraut-style goodness from youngsters who clearly aced their studies of the old masters. Solid, propulsive, synth/drums/bass stuff from start to finish, and neither song appears in identical form on any other release. Y’know, it’s sad, really; Appliance put out more than its share of great records – “Outer” among them – before quietly breaking up and getting tossed into the dollar-bin of history. So be smart! Take advantage of the situation and hunt ’em all down for cheap. Well worth the effort, and I would not lie.
(Earworm, 2000)
Thanksgiving is over, but there’s another TURKEY in the house: this single! Ha! Ha! Oh, ha ha ha! It’s almost certain that I am the first person to ever make such a joke, so let’s celebrate my genius and wit with some grog! I will top off your stein. WHEW! Let me wipe the tears of mirth from my eyes before we continue.
OK.
There’s ample guitarfuzz here that hearkens back to the early days of the Apples, but the empty spaces in the A-side’s midtempo ode to laziness make it feel half-assed and unfinished. Lyrics were never the band’s strong point, and emphasizing the (similarly weak) vocals, as Apples in Stereo increasingly did, never did these folks any favors. “Behind the Waterfall,” while frustratingly brief, is definitely the better of the two sides, featuring a gentle, tripped-out verse with a ripping distorto-chorus. This would have fit especially well on Her Wallpaper Reverie, the group’s concept/psych high-point, and it’s a shame that it was booted to the B-side of a follow-up single.Earworm did its typically careful job with the quality control here (thick colored vinyl, attractive fold-out sleeve), but given that both songs soon popped up on the domestic “Look Away” EP and the bargain-bin “The Bird That You Can’t See” single, there’s absolutely no need to pay high import prices for this release. Nor was there any pressing need to do so in 2000, when it first came out. And yet I did. Which is why I was (and remain) a total sucker and a record label’s best friend.
(SpinART/Elephant 6/Sire, 1998)
“Man You Gotta Get Up” (b/w “The Golden Flower”) isn’t really a single; it was included as a bonus 45 in the vinyl pressing of the Apples in Stereo’s Tone Soul Evolution album. Generous. But we can still take a moment to pan the thing, because this is a pretty flaccid slab o’ wax. Plopped front-and-center, Schneider’s thin, nasal voice simply isn’t strong enough or compelling enough to carry these songs, and there isn’t the punchy, reckless pop energy of the earliest singles. Shiny-sounding and crafted, it’s almost like a – dare I say it – psychedelecized Weezer, fer cryin’ out loud. The dirty guitar that snarls in the choruses of “Man You Gotta Get Up” is encouraging, but neither tune really offers much of interest beyond the occasional instrumental trick. Honestly, if these mediocrities truly had to be released, a bonus single was the right outlet and should set the proper expectations for the listener. Instead of hunting this disc down, just sit around and wait for the inevitable rarities comp.
Trivia fun! Tone Soul Evolution was the only Elephant 6 record to be released under the auspices of a major label. The next time you’re at a party, pull THAT one outta your cap and you'll be the champion of conversation, newly nicknamed Mr. Popular. I promise.
(Bus Stop, 1994)
Want to hear about something gross that happened this very afternoon? There I was, drinking my iced coffee at the local iced-coffeatorium, reading about celebrity tax evaders in New York City (John Cale, how could you?!), when I happened to glance down into my cup after a final, satisfied slurp. A sickening sight was to greet my eye: a BUG, a little black beetle of some sort, was resting there among the ice. “Gah!” I choked, and then noticed a second bug, this one a fat, inch-long, maggoty looking thing, sitting nearby. After spitting into a few napkins and the trash can, I took the evidence up to the counter and politely suggested the staff consider cleaning out the ice chest. The girl was suitably apologetic, and pulled five dollars in hush-money from the register. So the moral of the story is: drink bugs, get five bucks.
You know what would be similarly gross? Finding a worm in an apple that you were munchin’ on.
Hey, speaking of apples, I’m listening to a single by the APPLES in Stereo as I type this! Weird! What a great coincidence! What an ideal and totally unplanned segue! No, I’m not chuckling nervously; why do you ask? Let’s just talk about the record.
“Hypnotic Suggestion” is cleaner than the first single, but still has that trebly, grungy four-track sound. And while the lo-fi aesthetic remains in place, the songwriting is obviously increasing in complexity, with more ambitious vocal arrangements – the swooping and sighing backing vox on “Touch the Water” are especially satisfying – that hint at the Pet Sounds worship soon to blossom in the studio. All four songs are warm, bouncy guitar-pop, Robert Schneider & co at their simple best: rocking, catchy, fuzzy. A near-perfect 7”, and a perfect example of why Apples in Stereo was ever worth caring about. The Science Faire album gathers up all of these early singles and loose ends, and remains a good place to sink a few dollars.
(Elephant 6, 1993)
Ooh, a historically significant one: “Tidal Wave” is both the first Apples record (before “in Stereo” was tacked onto the name) and the first real-deal Elephant 6 Recording Company release. Listening to the disc over a decade later, it’s easy to hear the beginnings of the various branches of the E6 family in these songs – the lo-fi wackiness; the slightly-askew, Nuggets-y pop sensibilities; the oddball lyrical concerns; the homemade psychedelia… it’s all here in noisy, embryonic form. (The E6 band that followed most closely in this record’s footsteps was often the underrated Minders, though with far cleaner production.) Robert Schneider became a real studio trickster within a few years – and late-period Apples in Stereo albums suffocate under their overthunked-ness – so it’s fun to hear him just hit the “record” button on this one and let the band bash through these six ragged pieces of psych-tinged power-pop. Oh, and Apples do record geeks proud with a 16-page art/lyrics booklet and inserts up the wazoo: a poster, a sticker, a customer-satisfaction survey (!).
(MGM, 1967)
The Monterey Pop Festival went down back in ’67, and ace reporter Eric Burdon was ON THE SCENE, digging it all left and right, to give the record-buying public the scoop.
NEWSFLASH! “Even the cops grooved with us!”
This is just one of many Animals songs built around Burdon’s name-checking and wide-eyed LUV of the music world’s peacetastic brother-/sisterhood. I had always assumed that this rather annoying style was a later development, something he started doing after he had his mind blown by the SF hippies and formed the turned-on “new” Animals in early 1967, but in fact the first song on the first UK album features a discourse on the history of r’n’r, right up through the Beatles and the Stones. Huh; guess that was just Burdon’s thing. So anyway, yeah, the ultra-earnest lyrics are an embarrassing drag, but the music’s a decent – if sleek – mix of sitar, horns, and prominent bass, far different from the organ-centric stuff for which the Animals are better known. However: Every time Burdon gushes over someone – The Who! Jimi Hendrix! The Grateful Dead! Ravi Shankar! – the band plays a few notes meant to give us an idea of what that particular dude sounded like. Needless to say, the whole operation reeks of cheese.
Things improve on the non-LP “Ain’t That So,” a fun freak-empowerment tune (“Freak on! Freak on!”) with some fine shouting from ol’ Eric, and an overall beat-group style that sounds straight outta ’65. Recommended!
(Rough Trade, 2005)
