After Grog Blog

LA CONSEQUENTIAL

Turn on, tune in, drop out of sight.

With Vietnam on their minds, this little known psychedelic outfit appeared in 1967; inspired by Los Angeles' Something's-Happening-Out-There feeling of rebellion. The United States of America and this, their one eponymous album, bubbled just below the surface during the Summer O' Love. And then, just as quickly; disappeared altogether.

Until now, that is. This CD re-release from the mighty Sundazed is a timely reminder of their innovative spirit.

The first ten tracks on the CD are the original album releases which exhibit experimental arrangements that echo the likes of The Beatles' Sgt Peppers and also Blood, Sweat and Tears' lesser know, but no less brilliant Child Is The Father To The Man. The significant difference is that both The Beatles and BS&T managed to parlay the sound into something more accessible to a wider audience. And yes, I accept CITFTTM isn't that well know.

The second lot of ten tracks are, in the main, newly released examples of what members of the band did in future projects and echo a more conventional musical structure. Exhibiting, as they do, the general styles of The Buffalo Springfield, The Thirteenth Floor Elevators, The Strawberry Alarmclock, The Youngbloods and The Jefferson Airplane. And, of course, The Beatles again.

Clouds And Clocks

It was really a nice surprise to know about the re-release of this "classic album" (granted, it's not that well-known), originally released by Columbia Records in 1968 and which had already been re-released by UK's Edsel Records in 1987, at the dawn of the digital age. Extremely beautiful on an aesthetical level, The United States Of America is a one-of-a-kind type of album for (at least) two reasons: first, it's the only recorded work by this line-up; then, 'cause it's an original mixture of pretty different styles, which are given their organization by a sure hand and an impeccable logic. A work where electric violin, ragtime piano, female lead vocals, intricate bass parts, marching bands and an experimental use of electronics brilliantly coexist. A work which had no "sequels", nor heirs - even Joseph Byrd, the group's resident genius, could not succeed in continuing the story; and trying to see the group's heirs in some names that can be said to be superficially similar in some (minor) aspects of their work it's an absolutely useless task, obviously; just the way it is for so many innovative groups that are really unique.

AGB Rating - Distinction

DWIGHT FEVER

A while back I was in a record store talking to the owner about "big" music. You know, the flamboyant production stuff Queen did, and more recently Jellyfish. I was saying how I loved Jazz by the former and Spilt Milk (one of my favourite albums of the nineties) by the latter. He suggested I might like The Scissor Sisters; they did "big"numbers.

He put it on for me to listen to the opening couple of tracks and I thought they sounded OK, so I bought the CD.

Later on at home, I realised track three was the bogus cover of Comfortably Numb I'd heard on the radio a few days previously. And the rest was a turgid amalgam of the worst of Elton John and The Bee Gees. In fact, by track four, I was like, "This is fuck!"

Looking now at the April Mojo, it would appear they seem to have liked the same couple of songs. Laura and Take Your Mama Out are the first two tracks.

MOJO

New York pastichers make 1978 the new black.

One of the most confusing board games ever marketed, Never Mind The Buzzcocks asked players to sing Yes, We Have No Bananas in the style of Kraftwerk. Well, here is something even more confusing and contrived: the deconstructed 1979 Pink Floyd classic Comfortably Numb has been successfully remade as the Bee Gees on helium. And that's not all. It gets even freakier and more contrived as the Scissor Sisters debut spins out of the speakers with it's funky bass, FX last used by Kellie Marie and singing so archly banal and, at times, so Elton-like that it only just manages to stay the acceptable side of cheese. there's no denying that Laura, Take Your Mama Out and Tits On The Radio hint at something great. But, spread over a whole CD, there is some worryingly featureless stuff.

AGB Rating - Pass

ZULUS?

Aye. We got belted.

Men of Harlech stop your dreaming
Can't you see their spear points gleaming
See their warrior's pennants streaming
To this battle field

-- Dunno

As it happens, we're not talking Stanley Baker; rock solid at the ramparts. Nor Michael Caine -- "Now THERE'S a bitter pill." -- and his dead cheetahs. Or even Jack Hawkins off the wagon on the wagon. Although, that last may be appropriate.

No, we're talking England getting spanked by Sarth Efrica in the cricket last week. Specifically The Barmy Army. I was wondering if, since Men of Harlech is the song sung by the soldiers in Zulu, whether drunken cricket fans singing it in Cape Town was a touch provocative. You know, not quite the done thing. Old chap.

PS: It's also my school football song.

Plaaayyyyy together dark blue twenty ...

SOMETHING THERE TO REMIND ME

Don't listen to me.

Uncut

If you like the US masters of the late-60's baroque romance - Burt Bacharach, Brian Wilson, David Gates, Jimmy Webb, Harry Nilsson and Richard Carpenter, even cultier orch-poppers like Michael Brown and Curt Boettcher - then you'll love this long-forgotten debut album of lushly produced angst-muzak by Bergen White. Released in 1970, For Women Only was a commercial disaster, and yet for exquisitely crafted misery it merits contention alongside such huge selling examples of the form as Aerial Ballet, Bread and A Song For You.

CD Times

he late sixties was a time in which the arranger of pop records was greeted with the same celebrity status within the music industry as that of the pop star; songwriter/producers Jimmy Webb, Burt Bacharach, Antonio Carlos Jobim and Quincy Jones were just as famous for their treatment of songs as they were for writing the songs in the first place. Step up to the plate, Bergen White, whose debut solo album For Women Only came and went quickly in 1970, and did little to halt White’s pace-gathering rise towards being an A-list Nashville arranger. Here was a man who was handpicked to arrange Elvis by the king himself, and whose solo aspirations were being sidelined by his own skills in other areas. Looking back at Bergen White, simply by listening to For Women Only, it’s clear that we may have been deprived of a talented singer-songwriter. Instead, we were given a man whose arranger-credits include Garth Brooks, Dolly Parton and Faith Hill.

AGB Rating - Distinctionp>

PUNCHED DRUNK

"I'm never going to play with that c**t again!"

-- Football Player

My word! That seems harsh. A touch extreme, even. What, then, were the circs?

Well, Player was at a "function" in December and having slurped down a couple cool drinks too many, was behaving like a clown.

It wasn't long before Player's behaviour started to grate, so A.Captain decided it was time Player cooled his jets. "Shut up," he said. "Stop behaving like a clown."

Player didn't like that Captain had told him how to behave and vigorously made his feelings known. "Get f***ed," he retorted.

At that Captain punched Player in the mouth and Player stormed out squealing "I'm ne " ... well, you know how it ends.

FAIRPORT CONTENTION

Aye, so here's the rub.

Psychedelic Folk & Acid Folk

Extradition, literally "ex-tradition", reacted against the folk purists to show the 'true folk spirit', and, equal to its intention, also succeeded in becoming a trademark with a legendary status, to show subtle inspiration and an honest direction of what was inspired from the heart. Partly it was stimulated by the music from people like Shirley Collins, Annie Briggs and Sandy Denny, and groups like Incredible String Band, Pentangle and Fairport Convention.

In fact, I had the volume down just in case the neighbours overheard and thought they must be living next to a freak. I was half expecting the ghost of Lord Darnley to spook his head round the corner and belt me over the head with his lute.

Innovative? Yes. Well played? Yes. Not my cup of tea? Definitely.

Dusted

In the last 7 years it seems at times that re-issue releases have been out numbering new releases. And I am sure a lot of you have discovered, as I have, that some of these re-issues could have easily just remained a myth, or even unknown. However...this Extradition record is a keeper. It is a beautiful psychedelic folk record that gives praise to song, improvisation, and Maher Baba. If you dig the Linda Perhacs record, reach for this one as well.

AGB Rating - Credit

VULGAR FRICTION

It would demonstrate a vulgar lack of perspective if, upon hearing Broadbridge's story, one's mind turned to what it might mean for Melbourne's back line.

-- Waleed Ali

Last night I sat down to dinner, turned on the telly, and what did I see? You guessed it. Melbourne playing the Bulldogs at T-Dome and there, in the flesh, was Broadbridge running around in Melbourne's backline. Tall and slim, a graceful, if slightly stiff mover, well poised and a bloody good player. Knock me down with a feather if that wasn't one grim way to ram things home.

"Fuck and bugger," I said.

RUBBISH

Hawkeye is a farce.

Every time there's an LBW appeal, the Channel Nine commentators defer to it as the be-all-and-end-all when, in fact, every man and his blind dog can see different.

Shit! Many instances show the ball bouncing about a foot over the stumps when in reality it would be lucky to bounce over the batsman's shin.

It's ridiculous!

Channel Nine, cut the crap!

ANXIETY IN THE UK

Let's call it Hip Hopera.

A Grand Don't Come For Free by Birmingham band, The Streets, is a concept album about teen life in the UK. Clubbing, crap TV, shit food, relationships, stoners, pill-heads and ravers.

No doubt you're now in mid-exclamation, somewhere between "fook" and "sake", because it sounds appalling, doesn't it. Well, it's not.

For this crusty old geek who's never had even a passing aquaintance with the above, AGDCFF is an interesting, intriguing and, due to some ambitious orchestrations, extremely enjoyable album.

The Guardian

Rock music may be big on anniversaries, but one pivotal historical moment still goes uncelebrated: the point when the record-buying public ceased believing that the concept album was a pinnacle of artistic endeavour and decided it was short-hand for a particularly gassy kind of self-importance. No one knows for sure when this occurred, although the strongest claim is held by the 1973 release of Yes's Tales From Topographic Oceans, a lofty interpretation of ancient Hindu texts which, it later transpired, the members of Yes had not actually read.

For decades now, artists with any sense have given concept albums a wide berth. So you have to admire Mike Skinner's guts. It may not reinterpret ancient Hindu texts, contain lengthy, ponderous solos, or come with a lyric sheet that calls itself a libretto, but Skinner's follow-up to Original Pirate Material, his 2002 debut as the Streets, is undoubtedly a concept album.

AGB Rating - Distinction

RIVERS OF SPUD

If this Absolutely Superb list at the BBC is anything to go by, Enoch Powell might have been on to something.

100 things we didn't know this time last year

1. Street brawlers sometimes arm themselves with potato peelers, according to the Home Office, which wants to make them banned weapons.

Someone call The Peelers.

There's a giant Gherkin, too. Speaking of Gherkins, who said this?

"A very large number of the lunatics in our asylums have made themselves ill by indulging in this vice although at one time they were sensible cheery boys like you."

PRUNE DANISH

Danish Kaneria looks to be a fine bowler, but he should have been fined for the send-off he gave Damien Martin in Melbourne. It's was no surprise he's been pinged in Sydney.

Danish's French was costly

Michael Clarke embarked on his first Test innings at the SCG buoyed by the cheers of a 35,000-strong home crowd. Thirty-five runs later, Clarke departed to a profanity-laced send-off from Danish Kaneria - a taunt that cost the Pakistani leg spinner his entire match fee and earned a reprimand.

After deceiving Clarke in flight, allowing wicketkeeper Kamran Akmal to complete the simplest of stumpings, Kaneria apparently told the 23-year-old batsman to "f--- off" as he strode from the playing surface. The taunt was promptly reported by umpires Billy Bowden, David Shepherd and Steve Davis, who referred the matter to match referee Ranjan Madugalle.

At a post-match hearing, Madugalle deemed Kaneria's actions serious enough to warrant a level two breach of the International Cricket Council's code of conduct, resulting in a $2000 fine and a severe reprimand. Danish had already committed 25 per cent of his match fee to the victims of last week's tsunami disaster in Asia.

After the Melbourne test Mike Coward wrote a piece on Kaneria. But made no mention of the Indian's tendency to carry on like a clown.

You don't have to think very hard to imagine the response if it was an Australian doing likewise.

Kaneria a hit, without spin

APART from Danish Kaneria's wife of a few months and a few social intimates, not a soul knows much about his taste in suits, cars, aftershave, motorbikes and then some.

In stark contrast to extroverted paceman Shoaib Akhtar, whose life on and off the field is the stuff of soap opera, Kaneria is quietly making his way in the cricket world.

Of course, he is a fine leg-spinner quietly perfecting a range of complex and subtle skills that will serve him well in the future.

While Shoaib's visage will adorn newspapers everywhere again this morning on the strength of another five-wicket haul yesterday from a variation of runways, Kaneria also took five wickets and deserves the highest commendation.

WHOLE LORETTA ROSIE

Even though Loretta Lynn's got many, many famous hits, I never much liked her gear. The reason? Well, on the whole, I've never been a huge listener of pure country music. When I have liked it, it's because it's been infused with a little something else.

Jack White's been able to provide that "something else".

The result, Van Lear Rose is undoubtedly one of the better albums this last year.

The Guardian

The worth of musical patronage - when a rock star attempts to kick start one of their idols' careers by producing, playing or touring with them - is debatable at best. When that rock star is Jack White, the very notion could cause you to swallow hard.

The leader of The White Stripes has made a career out of being obtuse: dressing only in certain colours and scorning technology such as computers, television, the horseless carriage etc. His musical taste follows suit: recently he dedicated a White Stripes gig to The Liver Birds - a distaff Merseybeat combo of scarcely believable wretchedness.

Thankfully, he has chosen to extend his patronage not to the Liver Birds, but to the country singer-songwriter Loretta Lynn. In her heyday, Lynn was an unprecedented figure, dealing in kitchen-sink feminism at a time when country divas were supposed to simper in sequins. Lacklustre husbands were scorned and cuckolded. Love rivals were frequently offered a punch in the mouth. In recent years, however, her output has dwindled while Lynn has concentrated on her businesses, including Loretta Lynn's Kitchen (a dining establishment which, judging by its website, makes Dolly Parton's Ham'n'Beans restaurant look like Le Manoir aux Quat' Saisons) and a series of cookbooks that should come with a complementary packet of Rennies. One look at the recipe for Loretta Lynn's Gooey Cake - a packet of chocolate cake mix, three frozen chocolate bars and a jar of caramel - will tell you that the quality of her new album scarcely matters. Merely by turning her attentions away from gastronomy, Jack White has performed humanity a service.

AGB Rating - Distinction

BEST IN SHOWS

"I hate television as much as I hate peanuts. But I can't stop eating peanuts."

-- Orson Welles

With that glowing endorsement echoing throughout the cosmos, here are the TV shows I enjoyed watching in 2004.

• Deadwood

Easily the best c**ksucking f**king s**tting c**ting thing on TV this year.

• Las Vegas

Started off well, but went kooky late in the season.

• Two and a Half Men

Makes me laugh out loud. What can I say? I like Charlie Sheen. I like Jon Cryer. Even the kid's not an irritating smartarse.

• CSI

The one in Vegas. With Grissom. Before Nine fucked around with it.

"Remember, Warrick, an axe in the head can prove fatal."

• Line of Fire

David Paymer: dangerous, menacing poindexter.

That is all.

OUT OF DATE

Another out of date review. Up The Bracket was released in 2002.

The Libertines snorking away on their guitars remind me of Jet, and that can't be a good thing. But they're better than Jet (which wouldn't be hard). So at least they've got that going for them.

I suppose they've the added advantage of not being Australian. Therefore they haven't had wall to wall coverage here in Pooh-Ville (including THAT bloody ad) so they don't yet shit me to tears.

Now excuse me while I pop out and buy The Libertines.

Have I ever mentioned I hate the word gorgeous?

Pitchfork

Like The Clash before them, The Libertines draw primarily from decades of rock tradition-- blues, dub, a healthy whiff of the English countryside, and a few gorgeous rock riffs straight from the brainstem of Chuck Berry-- and fuse them into an unruly and triumphant monster of an album.

AGB Rating - Credit

LUCK!

There's an Ashes-comparison-chart-type-thingo in today's Age. And Nabila Ahmed has put together a pretty solid assessment of what might happen this winter.

A couple of things caught my eye. Luck, for one.

For the first time in almost two decades, Australia and England are closer as competitors and, with the help of a couple of injuries and maybe by calling correctly on three of the five tosses, the world champions can be dethroned.

And what Jack Potter had to say. Who, exactly, have England faced?

He maintains England's optimism after eight successive victories is ill-founded. "They have been doing well but they have not played against any decent attack," Potter says. "They are a reasonable side playing well and having a bit of luck. Ashley Giles has been a big factor in their wins, but none of the other sides use their feet against him.

Case in point is the last test in Yarp Efrica. The most amazing thing wasn't that England made 500 in the second dig and got out of trouble, but that they got into trouble in the first place against the lamest South African I've seen on THE deadest pitch in ages and were skittled for 139.

Naturally, my very good friend Spankles also makes an interesting observation. I agree, by the way. I've a nagging suspicion the Aussies aren't quite right.

"I think (the Australians) have something, some little things missing. They say all empires come to an end eventually and all runs come to an end. Those are the things that will spur England."

I think it's all down to whether or not the Aussie batsmen can counter the English bowlers. At some point our bowlers will surely rout the Poms, so the Poms have to be able to cut through once or twice. If they can't, Australia will win the series.

On form, it could be a close. It may be that the result is determined by who holds their catches. And on current trends, I don't like our butter-fingered prospects.

However, I suspect the more people -- dickheads like me, that is -- there are speculating on a tight series, the better the Aussies will like it and the better prepared they're likely to be. I'm not 100% convinced England are quite ready for a fully charged Australia and for the Poms to win, Aussie bad management, English bowling and the aforemention luck would have to go their way.

I'll be crossing my fingers they don't, but I'm leaning towards England.

OCH! AYE CATCHING

Scottish outfit, The Beta Band, got a huge boost from the film High Fidelity. At one point John Cusack tells Todd Louiso, "I'll now sell four copies of The Three EPs." He then plays it and immediately the customers start grooving to what they're hearing until one of them comes up and asks, "What's this?"

Well, you know something? That's exactly what happened to me. Paul at my local record store was playing The Three EPs when I started ... err ... grooving and eventually went up and asked him, "What's this?" He told me and I bought it straight away.

I really enjoyed the album, and it's follow-up, for that matter. So it was with some excitement that I anticipated their latest, Heroes To Zeros.

What was immediately apparent was that they'd fleshed out their sound to something closer to regular pop structure.

If you look at the Metacritic page, you get an immediate indication of how this approach has polarised the pundits. Some have taken the it-wasn't-as-good-as-before tack, whereas others have taken the opposite.

Me? Well, I'll take an each-way bet, please. Initially I was under-whelmed, but the more I listen to it, the more I like it. It's less consistent in tone than the earlier albums, but has a significantly greater number of high points (Assessment, Space, Easy, Out-Side), all of which contribute to a generally better album.

Mojo

It seemed apt that Nick Hornby would choose The Beta Band as a musical reference point for High Fidelity's screen adaption. Like Hornby, the Anglo-Scottish quartet are skilled cultural magpies, and on this third full album the same nimble fingered tendencies that informed their self-titled debut and 2001's Hot Shots II are still apparent. They lift The Edges' spiky guitar riffing on Assessment and Jean-Michel Jarre's during Space Beatle's ambient belch. On Easy meanwhile, they even mimic the infectious funk licks of Stevie Wonder's Superstition. But to dismiss Heroes To Zeros as a mere excercise in rock homage underestimates The Beta Band's charm. And so a barrage of scattershot drum breaks, electronic squelches and Steven Mason's dreamy vocals makes for yet another woozy pop assault.

AGB Rating - Distinction

I VANT TO BE ABALONE

Sydney to Hobart upside-down yacht, Skandia, hit a 300-kilogram sunfish off Gabo Island. But not according to a radio newsreader during the week.

"Skandia hit a giant star-fish off Garbo Island."

WIRED FOR SOUND

Mojo Magazine put out complimentary sampler CDs with random issues. Some of the discs released up to now are 20 Reggae Classics, Raw Soul, Blues Power and Instant Garage.

For me, though, their best is The Roots of Hip Hop.

TROHH showcased a collection of genre defining songs by the likes of Grandmaster Flash, Cymande, The Jimmy Castor Bunch and Funky 4+1. It provides a hint as to how good Hip Hop can be when fully realised.

The trouble with Hip Hop in general, though, is that it so infrequently delivers on it's promise. Mind you, that's not a whole lot different to popular music in general.

Anyhoo, Connected by The Foreign Exchange is no different.

Sure, it's capably put together. But in these days of technical expertise, I'd expect no less.

The beat's fine, the production tidy and the atmosphere appropriately moody. But it's the same all the way through. There are no highs, no lows, no spine-tingling hooks. It tools along from start to finish in pretty much the same gear. It's like one long song.

And fuck knows what they're singing about. "Fuck and 'hoodz and bitches and shit", I suppose.

Still, others like it.

Music Underwater

I have a confession to make. For the past eleven or so months, since my dive into the independent music world, I have been an indie rock snob. Emphasis on rock. I have completely shunned the rap/hip-hop genre, mainstream or otherwise. It's kind of weird, because only a couple years ago, I was in love with Dr. Dre, Eazy-E or Run DMC. What led to this sudden shift, you ask? I don't know, but I think that after repeated listens of Connected, I'm starting to see why. With the rise in popularity of hip-hop came a complete distillation of any substance it may have already had-- all it became was angry, hateful, sexist filler. And that's not what hip-hop is about. To me, it's about the basic essence of music, with emphasis on lyrics, rhyming, soul, and beats. That's another thing most new rap doesn't have-- no soul, no heart behind the music. And that's just the reason I really enjoy The Foreign Exchange's Connected. They have returned to the basics, and they've done it damn well.

AGB Rating - Credit

PHONE SIX

Half a dozen great tracks discovered on my Voice-Mail this morning.

1. A Message To You Rudy

-- The Specials from The Specials

2. Return Of Django

-- The Upsetters from Return Of Django

3. Christmas Song

-- Jethro Tull from Living In The Past

4. Pressure Drop

-- Toots And The Maytals from Funky Kingston

5. Fisherman's Blues

-- The Waterboys from Fisherman's Blues

6. Dollar In The Teeth

-- The Upsetters from Eastwood Rides Again

Top work, boys.