TEENBEAT !

After the success of their Emerson, Lake & Palmer bootleg boxes, Sanctuary Records approached Tangerine Dream in hopes of releasing similar sets, starting with the band’s early years. Problem was the Dream didn’t have many tapes of their early years, so they had to turn to their fans. The result, The Bootleg Box Set, Vol. 1, is sourced from the Tangerine Tree, a series of radio and audience recordings that had previously been distributed freely among fans — with the band’s consent — through the Internet and snail mail. If you’re a fan who’s hardcore enough to lay down the cash for a seven-disc set where the sound quality varies greatly, chances are you have this in its original Tangerine Tree version, plus the three extra shows that aren’t included here. (Tree owners at least get some new artwork that mimics the old logo for bootleg label Swinging Pig, plus the satisfaction of knowing some money has reached the artist.) For fans who are not Internet-savvy and can’t tell a B&P from an FTP, the commercially released version makes for an easy way to bliss out to what many consider the band’s golden age. The tracks here feature the band at their improvisational best, with each member feeding off one another and the unwieldy nature of early synths adding some extra unpredictable energy. The 20-minute-or-so jams offer more of a surreal landscape than the sterile futurism of later years and the occasional dissonance will be surprising to newcomers, especially when Edgar Froese reaches for his screaming guitar. You also get to hear Ricochet without the overdubs (the Croydon gig) and a rare show with Michael Hoenig on keyboards (the London gig). Great stuff, but tolerating subpar sound quality on about half the set will be the deciding factor for most. Gigantic thuds of bass turn muddy and fuzzy, tapes get garbled and bumpy, and a fan who claps rhythmically during a beatless improvisation is especially annoying (put the headphones on and you can hear someone telling him to “shut up”). Until Froese is willing and able to dig up some source tapes for these years (not likely), this will have to do. (David Jeffries, Allmusic)

With their “differences” settled, the two Zip Code Rapists made a back-together-again-for-the-first-time comeback with the disarmingly competent 94124 EP, taking the opportunity to announce a new morality in the bozo-funky “Zip Code Gentlemen.” Of course, it’s a joke, and the skimpy record (six songs, a one-minute live fragment plus a self-described “filler” remix) soon finds the two up to their old tricks, faking their way through a dubious Nashville two-step (“I Need Him”), a muck-slinging product endorsement (“Ranch Style Beans”), sick-puppy pop (“Happy Like Larry”) and fucked-up live covers (“The Look of Love,” the Doors’ “Riders on the Storm”). With that, plus the significant inclusion of a perverted Southwestern ballad (“Henderson”), the Zip Code Rapists finally reach their ultimate destination — they’re a Ween tribute band, after all. (Ira Robbins, Trouser Press)

НИИ Косметики or the Scientific Research Institute of Cosmetics are a rather extraordinary Soviet pop group who I’d say win the title of having the best band name translated into English. The group was created in 1984 by a certain Michael “Methodius” Yevsenkov in a cellar in the Moscow underground, which is where they stayed for most of their career.

During the 80s, every move of the group was perceived to be a scandal. Not only were they operating illegally, since all musical groups in the Soviet Union were supposed to be registered with the government, but they were also shocking their contemporaries on the fringe with live shows that were said to resemble parties more than concerts. It was not uncommon for there to be more actors and actresses on stage than musicians. Organizers of their shows were even interrogated by the KGB on occasion, but Methodius himself, it was said, was a fearless guy. In 1986 НИИ КОСМЕТИКИ self-released their first album titled “История болезни” (The Case Record). (Johnny Disaster, Porch of the Mystics)

What an album this is. Underground new-wave straight out of left field, tape hiss and all. While there are a few misses, solid pop tunes like Пушка (“Cannon”) and Счастлив (“Happy”) more than make up for it. Definitely worth digging into.

If you know anything about Zoogz Rift, it’s that a lot of people don’t like him. He’s known for his loud, obnoxious, immature sense of humor (e.g. his band was named The Amazing Shitheads) and for his constant paranoid ranting…and that’s what his fans say. But his fans also point out that his wildly original music owes nothing to any typical genre cliches, and he has refused to cater to the public almost to the point of commercially shooting himself in the foot.

Rift is usually compared to the likes of Zappa and Beefheart, and he does share their love of complex compositions that, unlike many too-precious proggies, still rock out with a vengeance. His instrumental lineup, often including the likes of trombones and vibraphones, can be reminiscent of Beefheart. But while Zappa sneered, Rift howls in pain. And if Beefheart came out of the blues, Rift sounds like he was caught up in the punk scene exploding around him at the time. He’s from L.A., in case you didn’t guess.

Yes, there are going to be tracks on these albums that you’re not going to like. When someone won’t stop screaming about the “idiots” of the world without getting specific, it can become it’s own kind of idiocy. But don’t let that stop you. For one thing, there are lots of instrumentals that demonstrate the tightly-rehearsed near-virtuosity of Rift and his bandmates, especially the also-infamous bassist/guitarist John Trubee, and the late drummer/vibeist Richie Haas. And these albums boast some great songwriting - funny, rockin’, rollin’, even cathartic. There are musical places that you’ve never been to before. (Mr. Fab, Music For Maniacs)

Originally composed in 1978, the ultra classic synthesizer-disco-pop album “Pacific” by Frederic Mercier is finally being given its due credit. Appearing on many DJ playlists and even more collector’s wishlists, it has not been easy to find copies of his work. This debut album from Mercier not only shows his true talent, diversity but also why his music so sought after to this day. From the slo-mo cosmic classic “Spirit” to the french electronic pop sound of “Station 713”, Mercier plays a beautifully orchestrated album of Moog filled space anthems. These selected songs will take you back on a journey to France in ‘78 with a smile on your face the entire time. Recommended for DJs and fans and of the french cosmic sound, library disco, and outerspace instramentals. (Mellophonia)

The now-forgotten Phoenix, AZ label that brought the world the rote hardcore stylings of JFA also launched the recording career of the Sun City Girls. The trio’s self-titled 1984 debut sounded nothing like their labelmates and not much like anything else at the time. The closest parameter might have been the early, desert-damaged work of the Meat Puppets, but even at this early stage the Girls were smearing ethnic musics (“Black Tent,” “Helwa Shak”) with their own sardonic, twisted, and sophisticated world view (“Rappin Head,” “The Burning Nerve Ending Magic Trick”) like few artists before or since. The fact that the band had been recording more or less constantly since they coalesced from the ashes of a band called Paris, 1942 — whose drummer was none other than Maureen Tucker, late of the Velvet Underground — had already made the Girls a whirling dervish, and several tracks here, including “Caravan of Scars,” became staples to which they would consistently return. This eponymous 17-song record certainly doesn’t attain the soaring avant-garage world music sting of their best 1990s efforts, but it is important as both a fine place to wade into the SCG gene pool and as a historical marker, signifying the official onset of the group’s magnificent recorded legacy. (Patrick Foster, Allmusic)

Credited solely to musician Henri Tical, the mysterious and lucid Distortions from 1971 is the only known album by Blue Phantom. Henri had also pressed an abstract sound record in the same year for Italian imprint Vedette, but this appears to be his first venture into psychedelic rock. Distortions languished in obscurity for years, until just recently getting a vinyl reissue in 2008. “Diodo” right out of the gate, is a heavy rock gem with proggy tendencies. Forgive the fact that they cribbed the riff from “I Wanna Be Your Dog” to make “Microchaos”, or that “Equilibrium” sounds like an interesting take on “Breathe”. In fact, on the latter, the crying guitar (a la Can’s “Deadlock”) fits in perfectly with the syncopated rhythm and seemingly endless wah-wah’s. “Psycho-nebulous” closes the album, sounding like the soundtrack to a confusing, neverending nightmare. This record is a picture-perfect bad trip from beginning to end.

The daring covers returned for Songs. In fact, the record is nothing but covers, including drastic re-castings of three songs from Cream’s Disraeli Gears. So the creative well was surely drying up for Rotary Connection, right? Wrong. Despite the complete absence of original material, this is a proper Rotary Connection album as much as any other. Their version of Otis Redding’s “Respect,” like many of their covers, is rendered nearly unrecognizable; slowed to a crawl and stripped of its punctuative chorus of “R-E-S-P-E-C-T/I know what it means to me,” Charles Stepney’s string arrangement is a subdued but effective smear and Minnie Riperton and Sidney Barnes trade lines, emote in tandem, and twist around each other like they’ve never done before or since. The song has never sounded more steamy. The slightly eerie tone of the strings that encased “Respect” pop up again for “We’re Going Wrong,” one of the three Cream covers. The foreboding feel is carried forth with wordless co-ed background vocals that combine with escalating strings. But what really puts a cap on it is the moment when Riperton’s voice shoots into a pitch that no theremin can approximate. It’s moments like this one that make wading through the group’s lapses (a dull, bungled look at “I’ve Got My Mojo Working,” for instance) so worth it. As for those who view the group as blasphemers? Let them cringe. (Allmusic)

Chrisma (and later Krisma) were a kind of early Italian incarnation of Moloko. Both are boy/girl combinations making slightly wacky albums, where the focus is more on style and a certain weird cool image rather than being musically very interesting. The band-name is constructed from the first names of Christina Moser and Maurizio Arcieri, who also claim a punk-influence when starting out with the band in 1976. Well, maybe…we’ll have to take their word for it, as it certainly doesn’t show up in their music, which is more like synth-pop. Which brings us to the Vangelis connection, the nature of which has been a hot topic in Vangelis-related discussions for years. Apparently, Polydor’s Italian branch signed the group after which they were contacted by Niko Papathanassiou (Vangelis’ older brother, who was employed by Polydor at the time) who proceeded to be involved in their first two projects “Chinese Restaurant” and “Hibernation” as arranger, producer and multi-instrumentalist. Niko persuaded Vangelis to lend them his Nemo studio during the 1977 summer holiday period to record what would become the “Chinese Restaurant” album (although the finishing touches were applied in a Milan studio). Vangelis’ regular engineer at the time, Keith Spencer-Allen, helped out technically and computer-narrated the final “Thank You” track, his then girl-friend Veronique Skawinska took the large number of photographs featured on the gatefold-sleeve and Niko was allowed to use his brother’s synthesizer set-up. That, in all likelihood, is the whole story, because if indeed Vangelis played some of the music himself, it is inaudible. The only real candidate for this anyway is the track called “Lycee” which at least obviously uses his instruments (slight echoes of “Beaubourg” here). But the actual, rather hesitant-sounding playing on it doesn’t bear Vangelis’ signature unless, extremely unlikely, he really didn’t put his mind to it or something. The other tracks don’t sound like they even used the Nemo instruments, or at best only occasionally. Vangelis switched to Polydor himself the next year (continuing the “China” theme for his first project there) and asked Christina and Maurizio to return the favour on his 1980 “See You Later” album, where apparently they provided the Italian lyrics and voices at the end of “Suffocation”. Interestingly, that album is almost Chrisma-like in its wackiness, so it could well be a fair guess that, over the course of all those Chinese dinners, they might have talked Vangelis into doing something different on the rather odd “See You Later”. At least on that album there’s some decent music, which can’t really be claimed for “Chinese Restaurant”. The whole affair sounds rather bland, neither Christina nor Maurizio (who obviously took a leaf out of the book of Fleetwood Mac’s Lindsay Buckingham) are great vocalists, and the song-material is average at best. “Lola” is a decent song, the mere usage of Vangelis-sounds is enough to inject a bit of atmosphere in “Lycee” and poor Keith Spencer-Allen must have been bribed (“2 Chinese meals for free !”) into parodying his contribution to “Albedo 0.39” on the final “Thank You”. But this band was always more to do with style than content, and probably succeeded there. (Ivar de Vries)

The same extraordinary madness that infected the best work of Brian Wilson rears its head on the shimmering and melodic Clouds Taste Metallic, a masterful collection which completes the Flaming Lips’ odyssey into the pop stratosphere. The Pet Sounds comparisons are obvious — two of the highlights are titled “This Here Giraffe” and “Christmas at the Zoo” — yet not unfair; like Brian Wilson, Wayne Coyne has refined his unique vision into something both highly personal and powerfully universal. Similarly, while Coyne’s lyrics remain as acid-damaged and inscrutable as ever, his densely constructed songs convey emotional complexities far beyond the scope of their head-case titles (“Psychiatric Explorations of the Fetus With Needles,” “Guy Who Got a Headache and Accidentally Saves the World”); galvanized by equal parts newfound maturity and childlike wonderment, Clouds Taste Metallic is both the Flaming Lips’ most intricate and most irresistible work. (Jason Ankeny, Allmusic)

The Fall already had a slew of brilliant records under their belt by the time Hex Enduction Hour emerged, but when it did, the result was a bona fide classic on all fronts. Honing the vicious edge of his lyrics to a new level of ability, Smith led his by-now seasoned band — at this time sporting the double-drumming lineup of Paul Hanley and Karl Burns — to create a literal hour’s worth of entertaining bile. The Marc Riley/Craig Scanlon team had even more of a clattering, industrial edge than before, now inventing its own style of riff and melody that any number of later groups would borrow, with varying degrees of success. “Iceland” itself tips its hat toward where part of the album was recorded, and it’s little surprise that the Sugarcubes and any number of contemporaneous bands from that country ended up with a deep Fall fetish. Of the many song highlights, perhaps the most notorious was the opening “The Classical,” an art rock groove like no other, racketing around with heavy-duty beats and stabbing bass from Steve Hanley. Apparently, the band was on the verge of signing with Motown, at least until they heard Smith delivering the poisonous line, “Where are the obligatory niggers?/Hey there, fuckface!” Politically correct or not, it set the tone for the misanthropic assault of the entire album, including the hilarious dressing down of “misunderstood” rock critics, “Hip Priest” (“He…is…not…ap-PRE-ciated!”) and the targeting-everyone attack “Who Makes the Nazis?” Musically, all kinds of approaches are assayed and the results are a triumph throughout, from “Hip Priest” and its tense exchange between slow, dark mood and sudden guitar bursts to the motorik drone touch of “Fortress/Deer Park.” As a concluding anti-anthem, “And This Day” ranks up with “The N.W.R.A.,” ten minutes of ramalama genius. (Ned Raggett, Allmusic)

Much sought after by an ever-increasing body of dedicated fans, this is the famous first album by an unforgettably unique and tragically misunderstood vocalist. Recorded and released in 1968, this album tells as much about the producer — Frank Zappa — as it does about the singer himself. Cal Schenkel’s cover art ties it in with Zappa’s own releases from that period. Considering the fact that Fischer appeared with the Mothers of Invention on several occasions, it is a shame that only two selections allow listeners to savor the interesting combination of Zappa’s guitar and Wild Man’s total-release vocalizing. “The Taster” sounds a bit like Paul Anka’s “My Home Town,” while a very psychedelic tantrum called “The Circle” has Zappa’s best lysergic fuzz guitar up in front alongside the screams of the Wild Man. When he sings his theme song “Merry-Go-Round,” Fischer is accompanied by the Bizarre Percussion Ensemble. Their expertly executed clunks and clangs and rattles and squeaks were also layered over live location recordings of Wild Man Fischer on the Sunset Strip in Hollywood, as he sang songs for loose change in front of the Whisky A Go Go and the Hamburger Hamlet. There is also a humorous poetry performance (“The Madness and Ecstasy”) by Kim Fowley and Rodney Bingenheimer, who rant about the historical and social importance of Wild Man Fischer. But the real gold in this album is an extended series of unaccompanied short songs. These are masterpieces of private whimsy. “I’m Working for the Federal Bureau of Narcotics” ends with a wonderful emotional outburst, as Fischer runs around the room screaming “stay away from me!” His surrealistic magnum opus, “The Leaves Are Falling,” sounds almost like “Papa Oo Mow Mow,” but employs a strange noise that Fischer seems to have made by clucking his tongue against his upper palette. Other highlights include “Think of Me When Your Clothes Are Off” and “Jennifer Jones,” an outrageously funny epic tale of competitive serial killing. Fischer periodically describes his own life, what it was like to be different, how he thought up original songs and tried to share them with the world. Especially powerful is “The Wild Man Fischer Story,” whereby the singer carefully reenacts his adolescence, describing how his mother actually had him committed to a mental institution twice for singing in his room. It is a mean story, a succession of misunderstandings that set the stage for a lifetime of being misdiagnosed, misrepresented, and misunderstood. Fischer quarreled with Zappa, frightened the Zappa family, and plunged this amazing record into limbo, as none of the surviving Zappas want anything to do with him. Negotiations are underway, and true Fischer devotees are wistfully waiting for the day when his first album will make its first legitimate appearance on compact disc. (Allmusic)

Industrial Sabotage was one of the gems of the American label Random Radar, a label in its own right maybe the only one in the early 80s still putting out consistent work in various progressive fields. Even for such a diverse catalog, Mars Everywhere were quite iconoclastic, creating an album of improvisational music that married the space rock style with electronics. On one hand Mars Everywhere shared a similar inspiration to groups like Gong, Far East Family Band, and Hawkwind while on the other it was electronic masters like Tangerine Dream or Conrad Schnitzler who provided the influence. Ernie Falcone’s change in line up to include drums and bass on a more regular basis altered the sound of the band to bring it closer to the krautrock inspirations of yesteryear. The sound is generally improvisationally based, although the presence of song titles on here that were several years old give witness to an improvisational method with guideposts, an approach that would cause pieces like “Attack of the Giant Squid” to vary from performance to performance. For an early 80s album, Industrial Sabotage seems quite anachronistic, looking back to the early 70s and the dawn of the analog synthesizer for primary inspiration, while not losing a bit of unabashed, groundbreaking experimentation in the process. Perhaps it was the early years of Mars Everywhere that set the stage for the album, what is basically a collection of pieces from various permutations of the line-up (that all include founder Falcone, bassist Greg Yaskovich and multi-instrumentalist Barney Jones), as the move to more rock-oriented song structures did not bring with it any sense of the conventional. There are plenty of effected saxes, wailing guitar solos, scuttling electronics and cosmic space outs to appeal to any fan of psychedelic, experimental rock. (Mike McLatchey)

Mars Everywhere - Attack Of The Giant Squid

MX-80 Sound’s first full album found the band balanced in some sort of weird zone where punk, art metal, and a drawling sort of humor Stephen Malkmus would chase down in later years could all happily coexist. That the band was a contemporary (in terms of time, if not exact location) of Devo and Pere Ubu makes a perfect sort of sense — the quartet’s songs were less immediately anthemic, but something in the Ohio water seems to have seeped over to Indiana as well. Lines like “There’s an electrical alliance when you turn on that appliance” could be pure spud-boy attitude, while the nervous frazzle of the music and the semi-sci-fi identity the band used for their appearances and photos make for pure herky-jerky fun. If anything, Hard Attack may just well be the secret counterpart to the Fall at the time, and for good reason (even the two-drummer team of Armour and Mahoney arguably beat Mark E. Smith and company to the punch). Stim is a wonderfully offbeat singer, ranting without ever raving, as prone to talk over, around, and beside the beat as to sing anything straightforward, while his occasional turns on horn seem like the type of thing he would do for the hell of it. The rhythm section’s affinity for prog rock’s tempo switching and jazzy breakdowns never become an end in and of itself; the goal instead is to keep both the noise and the groove on, and they do it with raunchy power. Lead guitarist Anderson makes some righteously giddy feedback and circus/carnival riffs (Stim aiding him at points, other times finding its own path), and the end result is a sharp balance between insanity and just enough control. Outrageously funny/bad lyrical joke: “A horse that lives for a year is a yearling, but a horse that lives for a week, is it a weakling?” (Ned Raggett, Allmusic)

MX-80 Sound - PCB’s

As if the sound is breaking through your speakers, Alpha Centauri begins its journey. Crackling and swirling synthesizers seize control of your stereo. Like a call to psychedelic arms, the first track “Sunrise in the Third System” marches on with its organ. The mixing of the three tracks found on Alpha Centauri leaves something to be desired, in that the tracks are not mixed the way they would be today with each track endlessly flowing into the next like a stream. Nonetheless, when one is not paying too close attention to such details, the album seems to flow quite smoothly. The sound is not of the highest standards either, as should be expected, this being a 1971 release of “space music.” Tangerine Dream’s style of “space music” had not yet been refined and revolutionized as it was a couple of releases later with Phaedra and Rubycon. Regardless, for those interested in a wilder and more reckless ride on the “space music” autobahn, Alpha Centauri should satisfy the need. (Allmusic)