Various Artists - A Reference Of Female-Fronted Punk Rock 1977-89 (12 Discs)

[I began putting this one together back in mid-2018... but discovered some problems with the discs that took a while to sort out, and by the time I did so, I'd moved on to other write-ups. Guess I'll finish this one up now...]

I found this rarity available for download a couple of months ago [ed. note - early 2018], from an obscure music website, Kangnave (which appears to have been actively added to for a couple of years in the mid-2010s, but hasn't seen a new posting since 2015). Here's the description the blog moderator put up regarding this:

This is a pretty insane project put together by my pal Vince B. from San Francisco a few years back. As the title indicates, this is a homemade 12 x CD-R (!) compilation of punk bands fronted by female vocalists from 1977 to 1989. More like a giant mixtape than a compilation, as he only made 36 copies which he sent to friends and people who submitted material. You may notice that some of the bands didn’t have a steady female vocalist (The Lewd, etc.) but he still included songs that were sung by another member of the band. This is as international as it gets, with stuff ranging from world famous Blondie or Crass to the most obscure Eastern European cassette compilation veterans. The boxset came packaged in a handnumbered fancy translucent lunchbox enclosing all 12 CD-Rs, a stack of full-colored cards featuring comprehensive tracklist and artwork/info, as well as a manga pin-up figure! Talk about a labor of love.

Like the guy above said, this is a pretty incredible worldwide collection of decent to excellent punk vocalized by women - here's the lineup for all twelve discs:

Disc 1:

1. Blutsturz – Schweigen (Demo) (Germany, 198?)
2. Penetration – Money Talks (England, 1977)
3. Pyhäkoulu – Painajainen (Finland, 1986)
4. VulpeSS – Me Gusta Ser Una Zorra (Spain, 1983)
5. The Comes – Panic (Japan, 1984)
6. Suicide Squad – New Kids Army (Australia, 1980)
7. Rivolta Dell’Odio – Altari Del Terrore (Italy, 1984)
8. Sick Things – Anti-Social Disease (England, 1977)
9. Accident (a.k.a Accidents) – True Detective (USA, 1979)
10. Dishrags – I Don’t Love You (Canada, 1979)
11. Último Resorte – Hogar, Dulce Hogar (Demo) (Spain, 1981)
12. The Fastbacks – Someone Else’s Room (USA, 1981)
13. Anorexia – Rapist In The Park (England, 1980)
14. Phobia – Pretend You’re Not Crazy (USA, 1978)
15. Androids Of Mu – Bored Housewives (England, 1981)
16. Sort Sol (With Lydia Lunch) – Boy-Girl (Denmark/USA, 1983)
17. Tappi Tikarrass – Skrid (Iceland, 1984)
18. Flowers – After Dark (Scotland, 1979)
19. The Rentals – I Got A Crush On You (USA, 1979)
20. Pariapunk – Double Face (France, 1987)
21. Amsterdamned – Traditie Amme Balle (Netherlands, 1982)
22. Dr. Zeke – Vild I Skogen (Sweden, 1979)
23. The Lewd – Magnetic Heart (USA, 1982)
24. Au Pairs – Kerb Crawler (England, 1980)
25. Mo-Dettes – White Mice (USA/Switzerland/England, 1979)
26. Stripes – Weekend Love (Germany, 1980)
27. Violators – The Fugitive (England, 1980)

Disc 2:

1. Schund – Schund (Austria, 1982)
2. Wunderbach – Raya (France, 1982)
3. Total Muzak – Någonstans I Sta’n (Sweden, 1980)
4. Liliput – Hitch-Hike (Switzerland, 1980)
5. NJF – Sitting!! Pretty (Canada, 1984)
6. S.I.B. – Listless (Italy, 1981)
7. Manisch Depressiv – Zeitmaschine 1 (Switzerland, 1983)
8. Sheena & The Rokkets – Omae Ga Hoshii (One More Time) (Japan, 1979)
9. Rezillos – Flying Saucer Attack (Scotland, 1978)
10. Sado-Nation – Messed Up Mixed Up (USA, 1982)
11. Lucrate Milk – Fucking Pacifist (France, 1983)
12. Dan – Lust Is Greed (England, 1987)
13. Nasty Facts – Drive My Car (USA, 1981)
14. Life Cycle – Indifference (Wales, 1988)
15. Livin’ Sacrifice – Mentalsjuk (Sweden, 1981)
16. The Brat – Attitudes (USA, 1980)
17. Non Band – Ducan Dancin’ (Japan, 1982)
18. Bizkids – VIPs (Netherlands, 1980)
19. Minus Cway – Gdje Me Vjetar Odnese (Yugolsavia, 1982-88)
20. The Rats – Broken Wire Telephone (USA, 1983)
21. Anouschka & Les Privés – Contrôle (France, 1980)
22. Slits – Vindictive (England, 1977)
23. ICA – Untitled (Netherlands, 1981)
24. Trash – Peace Of What (USA, 1984)
25. Boys Boys – Monley Monkey (Japan, 1980)
26. Honey Bane – Girl On The Run (England, 1979)
27. TNT – Razzia (Switzerland, 1981)
28. Nuns – Wild (USA, 1980)
29. Electric Deads – 30 Years (Denmark, 1982)
30. Conflict – Who Will (USA, 1984)
31. Atims – Women (Netherlands, 1982)

Disc 3:

1. Hans-A-Plast – Polizeiknüppel (Germany, 1979)
2. Usch – LTO (Sweden, 1979)
3. Desechables – El Asesino (Spain, 1984)
4. Ici Paris – Le Centre Du Monde (France, 1980)
5. Action Pact – Suicide Bag (England, 1982)
6. Invaders – Backstreet Romeo (England, 1980)
7. Lepers – Flipout (USA, 1979)
8. Franti – Vento Rosso (Italy, 1983)
9. Out On Blue 6 – Examples (England, 1981)
10. Mr. Kite – Exit B9 (Japan, 1978)
11. De Zweetkutten – Atoomgeweld (Netherlands, 1981)
12. Ideal – Berlin (Germany, 1980)
13. Holly And The Italians – I Wanna Go Home (USA, 1981)
14. Modesty – Kad Srce Radi Bi Bam (Yugoslavia, 1982-88)
15. Delta 5 – Anticipation (England, 1980)
16. Beex – He Obliterates Me (USA, 1981)
17. Kaltwetterfront – Revolverheld (Germany, 1982)
18. Hydra – Ombre (Italy, 1985)
19. Vacum – Är Ungdomar Människor? (Sweden, 1980)
20. Nixe – Man Under My Bed (Netherlands, 1981)
21. Alternative – Seen Through Tear-Filled Eyes (Scotland, 1984)
22. Schematix – Nothing Special (USA, 1980)
23. Eyes – Don’t Talk To Me (USA, 1978)
24. Russians – Anything She Wants (England, 1980)
25. Kontrola W. – Manekiny (Poland, 1982/1998)

Disc 4:

1. Kizza Ping – Den Nya (Sweden, 1982)
2. Strapaze – Tage (Germany, 1983)
3. Glueams – 365 (Switzerland, 1979)
4. Kleenex Aktiv – Hilfe (Germany, 1985)
5. XL Capris – My City Of Sydney (Australia, 1980)
6. Josie Cotton – Johnny, Are You Queer? (USA, 1981)
7. Rakketax – Van Agt (Netherlands, 1980)
8. A-Heads – No Rule (England, 1982)
9. Drustvo Prisjecavalaca Boljih Dana – Sexualna Ovisnost (Yugoslavia, 1982-88)
10. Pink Champagne – Söndagsskolehyckel (Sweden, 1980)
11. Curse – Killer Bees (Canada, 1978)
12. Flirt – Don’t Push Me (USA, 1978)
13. 水玉消防団 (Mizutama Shouboudan) – 真空パック・トラベル (Japan, 1981)
14. Bizon Kidz – Godsdienstwaanzin (Netherlands, 1981)
15. X-Ray Spex – I Live Off You (England, 1978)
16. Reactors – World War Four (USA, 1980)
17. Klasse Kriminale – Construito In Italia (Italy, 1988)
18. Debils – Maso (Switzerland, 1981)
19. Plastix – Geschlechtsverkehr (Austria, 1981)
20. Avengers – Teenage Rebel (USA, 1978)
21. Hagar The Womb – Idolization (England, 1983)
22. Blitzkrieg – Szene (Germany, 1989)
23. DIRT – Hiroshima (England, 1981)
24. Disturbers – KZ Syndroom (Netherlands, 1980)
25. Andreas Dorau Und Die Marinas – Fred Vom Jupiter (Germany, 1981)
26. Pandoras – That’s Your Way Out (USA, 1984)
27. Lost Cherrees – Living In A Coffin (England, 1982)
28. Learned Helplessness – Vegis (USA, 1982)
29. A-Gen-53 – Stalingrad-Stumpfsinn (Austria, 1981)

Disc 5:

1. Crass – Where Next Columbus? (England, 1981)
2. A.P.P.L.E. – If In Heaven (USA, 1985)
3. Sleeping Dogs – (I Got My Tan In) El Salvador (USA/England, 1982)
4. Asbest – Family Care (Netherlands, 1982)
5. FFF – Arbeit Macht Dumm (Germany, 1986)
6. Gas – World Peace (Japan, 1985)
7. Les Calamités – Toutes Les Nuits (France, 1984)
8. Mother’s Ruin – Godzilla (Switzerland, 1979)
9. Toxic Waste – Traditionally Yours (Northern Ireland, 1985)
10. The Ex – Lied Der Steinklopfer (Netherlands, 1989)
11. NBJ – Dead Porker (USA, 1982)
12. Doll – Trash (England, 1978)
13. ST-37 – Unknown Soldier (Germany, 1985)
14. Jetset – Tot Hier En Niet Verder (Netherlands, 1982)
15. Fega Påhopp – Hålla Masken (Sweden, 1980)
16. Alma Y Los Cadáveres – Confidencias de Nutrexpa (Spain, 1982)
17. Da Stupids – Alien (USA, 198?)
18. Essential Logic – Quality Crayon Wax OK (England, 1979)
19. Beardsley – Summer Holiday (Japan, 1986)
20. Lärm – Pigeon (Netherlands, 1982)
21. Fatal Microbes – Violence Grows (England, 1978)
22. Sin 34 – Not (USA, 1983)
23. Vice Squad – Latex Love (England, 1980)
24. Lord Eva Braun – Week-End à Blois (France, 1989)
25. Ätztussis – Bullen (Germany, 1980)
26. Falange – Falange Suburbana (Brazil, 1988)
27. Bags – Survive (USA, 1978)

Disc 6:

1. Conflict – The Guilt And The Glory (England, 1982)
2. Putrid Girls – 1234 (USA, 1983)
3. Nog Watt – Going On (Netherlands, 1984)
4. Suburban Reptiles – 45 Single (New Zealand, 1978)
5. Lost Kids – Alle Taler (Denmark, 1979)
6. Edith Nylon – Edith Nylon (France, 1979)
7. Expelled – No Life, No Future (England, 1982)
8. Tollwut – Seuchen (Germany, 1981)
9. Blondie – Youth Nabbed As Sniper (USA, 1977)
10. Wartburgs Für Walter – More More Anymore (East Germany, 1989)
11. Ref – Soda Bikarbona (Yugoslavia, 1982-86)
12. Chumbawamba – beginning To Take It Back (England, 1986)
13. Mizz Nobody – Smittad (Sweden, 1978)
14. Platzangst – It’s A Light (Germany, 1983)
15. The Pogues – I’m A Man You Don’t Meet Every Day (Ireland, 1985)
16. St. Vitus Dancers – The Survivor (England, 1982)
17. Mary Monday & The Bitches – I Gave My Punk Jacket To Rickie (USA, 1977)
18. DZK – Juventude (Brazil, 1988)
19. Cocadictos – Juan Pablo II Y Amigos (Spain, 1983-84)
20. K.U.K.L. – Dismembered (Iceland, 1984)
21. Petticoats – Allergy (England, 1980)
22. Kalashnikov – Ødelæg Og Hærg (Denmark, 1984)
23. No Thanks – Fuck Everything (USA, 1983)
24. Indirekt – Shell Helpt (Netherlands, 1985)
25. Namenlos – Nazis (East Germany, 1984)
26. UXA – No Time (USA, 1980)
27. Peggy Luxbeurk – Sueur Froide (France, 1982)
28. Flere Døde Pansere – Midedød (Denmark, 1983)

Disc 7:

1. Toxic Shock – Remote Control (England, 1984)
2. Toxic Shock – Riot Riot Riot (USA, 1982)
3. Zelda – [Japanese Title] (Japan, 1981)
4. Total Chaoz – Oh Beatrix (Netherlands, 1981)
5. ZOI – Psaulme 1 (France, 1986)
6. Tozibabe – Moja Praznina (Yugoslavia, 1985)
7. Xmal Deutschland – Qual (Germany, 1983)
8. Ghost Walks – Fallen Angel (USA, 1985)
9. Life In The Fridge Exists – Have You Checked The Children? (New Zealand, 1980)
10. X – Nausea (USA, 1980)
11. Sacrilege – Dig Your Own Grave (England, 1985)
12. Combat Not Conform – Keep Your Head (Germany, 1985)
13. Typhus – ノータッチ (Japan, 1980)
14. Foreign Legion – Trenchline (Wales, 1986)
15. Rough Cut – Danger Boy (USA, 1981)
16. Ludus – Mother’s Hour (England, 1981)
17. The Bastards – Impossibilities (Switzerland, 1978)
18. Rutto – Paha, Kuolema (Finland, 1983)
19. Nikki Corvette – Young & Crazy (USA, 1977)
20. Photos – Skateboard (England, 1980)
21. Last Few – Suicide Commando (Netherlands, 1983)
22. Tyranna – Back Off Baby (Canada, 1980)
23. Screaming Sneakers – Violent Days (USA, 1982)
24. Poison Girls – Statement (England, 1982)
25. Verdun – Günther (France, 1988)
26. Noh Mercy – Caucasian Guilt (USA, 1979)
27. Bow Wow Wow – C30, C60, C90, Go (England, 1980)
28. Götterflies – Empty (Netherlands, 1981)

Disc 8:

1. Post Mortem – The Casualty (England, 1985)
2. Antischism – Evil God (demo) (USA, 1989)
3. Wrong Kind Of Stone Age – Run Amok (Australia, 1984)
4. The Puke – Happy Family (Netherlands, 1981)
5. Teddy & The Frat Girls – Clubnite (USA, 1980)
6. Questions – Take A Ride (France, 1980)
7. 無理心中 (Muri Shinjuu) – 子宮 (Live) (Japan, 1980-82)
8. Rubella Ballet – Something To Give (England, 1982)
9. Die Tödliche Doris – Kavaliere (Germany, 1982)
10. Los Microwaves – Time To Get Up (USA, 1981)
11. Extrém Exém – Eget Liv (Sweden, 1982)
12. Icon A.D. – Fight For Peace (England, 1982)
13. Dago Wops – Big Mac (Germany, 1981)
14. 8-Eyed Spy – Diddy Wah Diddy (USA, 1980)
15. Indian Dream – Insult To Injury (England, 1985)
16. Destroy All Monsters – Bored (USA, 1978)
17. Bluttat – Flying Into Heaven’s Door (Germany, 1985)
18. Raincoats – Adventures Close To Home (England, 1979)
19. Afrika Korps – Buzz Stomp (USA, 1977)
20. M’n’M’s – I’m Tired (USA, 1980)
21. キャ→ (Kyah!) – Slapdash (Japan, 1985)
22. Teenage Jesus & The Jerks – Less Of Me (USA, 1978)
23. Dog Faced Hermans – Balloon Girl (Scotland/Netherlands, 1987)
24. Mydolls – Soldiers Of A Pure War (USA, 1983)
25. Gash – Gash Trash (Australia, 1986)

Disc 9:

1. Berlin – The Metro (USA, 1982)
2. Poles – C.N. Tower (Canada, 1977)
3. Kuolleet Kukat – Vihollinen On Systeemi (Finland, 1984)
4. Joyce McKinney Experience – Armchair Critic (England, 1989)
5. VKTMS – Hard Case (USA, 1979)
6. ゴメス (Gomess) – 地獄へ (Japan, 1986)
7. Charol – Sin Dinero (Spain, 1980)
8. Tragics (a.k.a Misfits) – Mommi I’m A Misfit (USA, 1981)
9. Kandeggina Gang – Sono Cattiva (Italy, 1980)
10. Jingo De Lunch – What You See (Germany, 1987)
11. Vermilion – Angry Young Women (England, 1978)
12. The Maggots – (Let’s Get, Let’s Get) Tammy Wynette (USA, 1979)
13. Brain Death – Personal Affair (Japan, 1987)
14. Squits – Porno Pirate (Netherlands, 1982)
15. Siouxsie And The Banshees – The Staircase (Mystery) (England, 1979)
16. Unwarranted Trust – Honour’s Calling (Canada, 1984)
17. Bulimia Banquet – Scientology Sucks (USA, 1988)
18. Nurse – ナ－ス (Japan, 1983)
19. Secta Suicida Siglo 20 – Virginidad Sacudida (Mexico, 1989)
20. Castration Squad – The X Girlfriend (USA, 1979)
21. Jo Squillo Eletrix – Skizzo Skizzo (Italy, 1981)
22. A5 – Reeperbahn (Germany, 1980)
23. Manufactured Romance – You (England, 1980)
24. Frigidettes – Turmoil (USA, 1982)
25. Capitalist Alienation – Nuclear Trash (Canada, 1987)
26. Sperma – Please Love Me Tonight (Japan, 1985)
27. Mystery Girls – Ego (USA, 1983)
28. Exeroica – Del Apocalipsis (Argentina, 1988)
29. Partners In Crime – I Wanna Drive You (USA, 1984)
30. Dawn Patrol – What My Gonna Do (With Me) (England, 1981)
31. Maps – My Eyes Are Burning (USA, 1979)

Disc 10:

1. Neo Boys – Never Comes Down (USA, 1980)
2. New Walls – No Creation!? (Japan, 1985)
3. Gymslips – Miss Nunsweeta (England, 1982)
4. Loud Warning – Loud Warning (Netherlands, 1986)
5. Vs. – Magnetic Hearts (USA, 1980)
6. Turncoats – Waste Of Time (England, 1987)
7. Agonia – [Unknown title] (Italy, 1985)
8. Demented – Back To The Bed (USA, 1982)
9. PVC – Galehus (Norway, 1980)
10. Girls At Our Best! – Warm Girls (England, 1980)
11. Wilma & The Wilbers – Chronic Alkie (USA, 1980)
12. Cringe – Secretary Spread (USA, 1981)
13. Detectors – La Ciutat No Es Per Mi (Spain, 1987)
14. Suburban Lawns – Gidget Goes To Hell (USA, 1979)
15. Red Scare – Streetlife (USA, 1982)
16. Sofa Head – Invitation To Dinner (England, 1989)
17. 45 Grave – Black Cross (USA, 1980)
18. Plasmatics – Dream Lover (USA, 1979)
19. Not Moving – Behind Your Pale Face (Italy, 1983)
20. Enemy – Want Me (USA, 1978)
21. Potential Threat – Animal Abuse (England, 1982)
22. Anti-Scrunti Faction – Slave To My Estrogen (USA, 1985)
23. Legal Weapon – Hostility (USA, 1981)
24. OXZ – Be Run Down (Japan, 1984)
25. Shivvers – Teen Line (USA, 1980)
26. Donkeys – Wacky Acky I Aye (England, 1978-82)
27. Wrecks – Punk Is An Attitude (USA, 1982)
28. La Souris Déglinguée – Marie France (France, 1983)
29. SST – Autistic (USA, 1977)
30. Anti/Dogmatikss – Estado De Caos (demo) (Spain, 1983)

Disc 11:

1. Abwärts – Bel Ami (Germany, 1980)
2. Even Worse – Illusion Won Again (USA, 1981)
3. F.U.A.L. – Freedom Under Animal Liberation (Northern Ireland, 1989)
4. Nena – Nur Geträumt (Germany, 1983)
5. Gruftrosen – Mörder Von Gestern (Austria, 1985)
6. Sledgehammer – Paramilitary Recruits (Northern Ireland, 1988-ish)
7. Deutscher Abschaum – The German Superman (Germany, 1984)
8. Family Fodder – Debbie Harry (England, 1980)
9. Pink Turds In Space – Eastenders (Northern Ireland, 1988)
10. Die Mimmi’s – Mc Donald (Germany, 1984)
11. No-Song Kutkotz – Telegram (Netherlands, 1984)
12. Ratos De Porão – Nao Me Importo (live) (Brazil, 1985)
13. Martina + Part Time Punx – Mehr Von Dir (Germany, 1987)
14. Frightwig – Only You (USA, 1984)
15. Big In Japan – Big In Japan (England, 1977)
16. Bärchen Und Die Milchbubis – Jung Kaputt Spart Alterscheime (Germany, 1980)
17. Mood Of Defiance – American Love Song (USA, 1983)
18. Virgin Rocks – Get Along With You (Japan, 1987)
19. Ana Hausen – Professionals (England, 1981)
20. Métal Boys – New Malden (France, 1980)
21. Red Cross – Standing In Front Of Poseur (USA, 1980)
22. Dolly Mixture – Been Teen (England, 1981)
23. Morbid Opera – White Flag (USA, 1983)
24. Chin-Chin – We Don’t Wanna Be Prisoners (Switzerland, 1984)
25. Lovedolls – Now That I’ve Tasted Blood (USA, 1986)
26. Compos Mentis – Confused (New Zealand, 1985-ish)
27. Hysteria – Silent Hate (England, 1984)

Disc 12:

1. Pervers – Asozial (Germany, 1984)
2. Hugh Beaumont Experience – Moo (USA, 1983)
3. Inocentes with Meire – Ri Dos Hippies (Brazil, 1984)
4. Ruggedy Annes – Hollow Heroes (Canada, 1985)
5. Blowdriers – Berkeley Farms (USA, 1979)
6. Rap – Accident (Japan, 1985)
7. Decadent – Opposition Proposition (USA, 1982)
8. Warriors – Born To Ride (Japan, 1987)
9. Bambix – Little Miss Sunshine (Netherlands, 1989)
10. Super Heroines – Death On The Elevator (USA, 1981)
11. Cherry Vanilla – The Punk (England, 1977)
12. Hari-Kari – Prey For Peace (USA, 1983)
13. Kleenex – Ü (Switzerland, 1979)
14. Chute De Esperma – No Keremos (Spain, 1984)
15. Revo – Fuck The School (Netherlands, 1980)
16. The Fall – Hotel Blôedel (England, 1983)
17. Der Riß – Images (Germany, 1985)

As the compiler mentioned above, in some ways, the title of this set is a misnomer... although many of the bands featured in this compilation (such as The Raincoats, Kleenex, The Slits, Hans-A-Plast, etc.) are indeed all-woman groups, a good proportion of the songs being offered here are by unisex bands that just happened to have a woman as a lead singer (like X, Teenage Jesus & The Jerks, Chumbawumba and X-Ray Spex) or groups that let one of the female members sing a song or two  (like The Fall, 45 Grave, The Rezillos, and the like).  Perhaps a better name for this would have been A Reference of Female Voices in Punk Rock 1977-89... but maybe I'm just nitpicking. All in all, the selection here is superb...

Unfortunately, the initial set of downloads burned from this blogger's copies were NOT superb. I had a heck of a lot of issues with some of the song files, especially in the last five or six discs - some files were incomplete, others hopelessly corrupted.  So I made the time and took the extra effort to cull out the crap and find replacement files for some of these bands from other sources. Considering the level of obscurity of some of the tunes provided in this set, it goes without saying that it took a while for me to track everything down.   But in the end, I think I did.  So the set I'm offering here is a clean and uncorrupted as you're going to find out there for the time being.

Apparently, this set was featured on the Dangerous Minds website a few years ago - but still linked back to the Kangnave page, with its wonky files. Here for your listening pleasure is my repaired version of A Reference Of Female-Fronted Punk Rock 1977-89, a fan-compiled boot of twelve discs containing over 300 slices of quality punk and post-punk from the heyday of this music.  Enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think.

Please use the email link below to contact me, and I will reply with the download link(s) ASAP:

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Cocteau Twins - Love's Easy Tears EP

T. S. Eliot considered April to be "the cruelest month", but for my money, February wins the calendar cruelty sweepstakes hands down.

It's a weird time, ol' February is - the shortest month of the year, but one that invariably feels twice as long as the number of days allotted to it. It's a time for the raising of false hopes - schoolchildren and irrational optimists pause in dumb anticipation every February 2nd, waiting for a fat, rabid rodent to emerge from its fetid hole in a one-horse town in western Pennsylvania and let them know what the weather will be like for the following six weeks; a prediction that is almost invariably wrong. It's a time for unreasonable expectations and grandiose, yet ultimately empty, gestures - in other words, Valentine's Day, and everything involved in proving, for at least one day out of the year, that you actually love the person that you're with. It's a time of mirages - the strange phenomena of February 29th, Leap Day, which materializes every four years with mild fanfare in the press and little notice by the public, like a widely hyped but sparsely attended street protest.

But mostly, it's a time of boredom. Back when I was at Navy, February made up the majority of the period known as the "Dark Ages", beginning generally with the return from Christmas break but really kicking in just after the Super Bowl. The "Dark Ages" were a time of slate grey skies and icy streets, walking to class miserably hunkered down in heavy coats and wet scarves, watching the mists rise and curl off of the frosty Severn River and taking small, bitter comfort from the thought that, hell, at least you weren't up at West Point, where the cadets had it much worse. With the pro football season over, we were reduced to watching, if anything, midseason pro hoops and hockey games of low intensity and limited appeal; teams were saving their energies and enthusiasms for the end-of-season pushes of April and May. It was just a time of gloom and ennui, of gritting your teeth and gutting your way through it, which only began to let up with the first lukewarm days of March. Usually by the time the college March Madness basketball tournament began, the "Dark Ages" would officially be over.

Before my Academy days, February had a different (but no less disagreeable) meaning. As a child of devout churchgoing Catholic parents, the coming of February usually meant the onset of Lent, the six-week leadup to Easter. I really didn't understand the whole concept and meaning of Lent as a kid; the two main things I took away from it during that time was that 1) I had to go to church after school on the first day of Lent and get soot rubbed into my forehead, which I wasn't supposed to wash off until bedtime; and 2) my parents 'encouraged' me to give up something I loved (chocolate, sweets or a favorite toy) for the duration - an aspect of the season that I loathed and dreaded, but one that invariably fell by the wayside as the days progressed, as my folks both took pity on my misery at being deprived, and/or got tired of constantly trying to enforce the weeks-long ban.

In other words, for most of the first two-plus decades years of my life, February translated into "No Fun" . . . except for one brief, shining moment. That was in 1983, the year I experienced my first true Mardi Gras.

For reasons that have never been properly explained to me, soon after retiring from the Navy, my dad decided to leave Monterey, California and settle 2,000 miles away in a place he had heretofore never visited nor evinced any interest in - Slidell, Louisiana, hard by Lake Pontchartrain and a short distance from New Orleans. So in the summer of 1982, we said goodbye to Monterey (at that point, the greatest place we'd ever lived) and for several days drove across the arid Southwest and Texas to our new and unfamiliar home, arriving at temporary lodgings in The Crescent City late one July evening. I will never forget my first morning in that city, when I stepped outside my air-conditioned room into a veritable steam bath; I was instantly soaked with sweat, and stayed that way all day, even through three shirt changes. The place, weather-wise, was brutal.

During my first few months in the state, I got to know New Orleans a little better. It's an odd city, a jumble of contrasts and juxtapositions, a melange of old and new, black and white (figurative and literally), with varying shades of grey in between. Neighborhoods full of beautiful Greek Revival-style buildings stood cheek-by-jowl with crumbling, decrepit slum areas. On some days, in the heart of the modern business district, you could smell the primeval mud and rot rising from the murky Mississippi River slowing flowing through the center of the city. The city boasts about the positive actions it took to avoid much of the upheaval and turmoil of the Civil Rights Movement of the 60's; yet by my estimation, it's one of the most de facto segregated cities I'd ever been to. The quaintness of the scrolled iron balconies in the Bourbon Street area were counterbalanced by the unsettling spookiness of the city's cemeteries, consisting of acres upon acres of elaborate marble vaults (New Orleans sits so far below the water table that any buried coffins would just float back to the surface, so everyone is entombed above ground), veritable cities of death. I think the whole 'N'Awlins voodoo' thing has been way overplayed nowadays by the media . . . but enough of it was present in the city at the time to add another dollop of strangeness to an already strange place. All in all, New Orleans was an odd combination of the living and the dead, excess and morality, unbridled partying and religious severity, abiding joy on the surface . . . and deep sadness underneath. For those first few months, it was a place I appreciated, a place I tolerated - but a place I never really enjoyed or loved.

Then came that February and Mardi Gras season, and my entire perception of New Orleans changed.

Actually, Mardi Gras is more than just a single day or weekend. The Carnival season there officially begins on January 6th, the twelfth day after Christmas (also known as, shockingly enough, "Twelfth Night"). Various fraternal organizations/social clubs, known as "krewes", sponsor dances, balls and parades throughout the season, with the number and frequency intensifying as Mardi Gras gets closer and closer. The weekend before Mardi Gras is when they really start to kick out the jams, with tourists flocking in from across the nation and world to party, get drunk, show their respective tits, and view the parades of the major krewes (Endymion, Bacchus, Zulu, Rex, etc.).

My family and I went into the city on the last Sunday of the season that year to see the Bacchus parade. We arrived early, in a vain attempt to beat the crowds, and thus had time to wander around the French Quarter and Bourbon Street for a while. I was amazed at the transformation I saw in the city's demeanor. It was a complete carnival atmosphere, with laughing, smiling revelers walking the streets, mingling with singers, dancers, acrobats and people in all sorts of masks and costumes. Music was heard everywhere - a lot of Dr. John and Louis Armstrong, as I recall. But the song that I remember hearing the most was Professor Longhair's "Mardi Gras In New Orleans", the proper theme tune for the celebration. New Orleans didn't seem dangerous or dirty or weird or spooky during that time - it was as if the ever-present shadowy side of the city was completely (if momentarily) pushed aside away by the bright, fun, happy glare of fun and enjoyment happening that weekend. Of course, it didn't last; in a few days, the Crescent City was back to its old light-and-dark self. But the memory of the city's brief, glorious annual transformation stayed with me for a long time afterward.

My family left Louisiana shortly after I left for Annapolis later that year. The next time I was anywhere even remotely close to that area was nearly five years later, when I lived in Athens, Georgia for a few months, attending a school related to my military speciality. During the time I lived in Georgia, I never put much thought into making the long road trip to New Orleans; I mean, that college town had nearly everything I wanted, in terms of great music venues (like the 40 Watt and the Uptown Lounge) and fun, cool things to do. The University of Georgia radio station, WUOG, was always playing off-the-wall, cutting edge stuff, so it was on constantly in my home and car. And when I wanted some different atmosphere, well, Atlanta was less than an hour down the road. Driving any further, much less out of state, never really crossed my mind. I'd been away from Louisiana for so long that when that February rolled around, I had all but forgotten about the whole Carnival season there.

As I recall, the thing that put the idea of Mardi Gras in my head again was a short local news segment I saw that Friday night about the upcoming weekend events in New Orleans. It sounded intriguing, but I didn't know one way or another if I would make the journey. In fact, it wasn't until the next morning, only a couple of hours before I jumped in my car, that I finally made up my mind to go. And go I did - I left just after 9 am that day, and made the 530-mile run from Athens, Georgia to New Orleans in a little less than six and a half hours, which was frickin' hauling it. In hindsight, the rate I was traveling was a little nuts. First of all, keep in mind that I was speeding through Alabama and Mississippi, states with a somewhat, um, interesting history of law enforcement. If friggin' Boss Hogg and his cronies there had nabbed me blasting through their states . . . hell, I'd probably STILL be in jail. Secondly, it wasn't like I was all fired up to get into the city and get buck-wild. At the time, I didn't drink at all, and thus wasn't much of a gung-ho partier. I guess I just wanted to be at a place where the action was, as soon as possible.

On my way out of Athens, listening to WUOG, they played a lovely little ethereal song called "Orange Appled" by The Cocteau Twins, a Scottish alternative/dream pop band. The lyrics were all but unintelligible, but the female voice uttering the obscure syllables was amazing and beautiful, as was the dense instrumentation backing her.

By mid-afternoon, I had arrived in Louisiana, and decided to take a brief detour. I got off at one of the first exits across the Mississippi/Louisiana border, and for the first time in years drove into Slidell, my old hometown. The place still had a sort of rundown, beat-up, hangdog feel about it - Slidell to me always felt like it was only a couple of steps removed from reverting back into the swampland from which it had been carved out of. I took the car back to my old neighborhood on the far eastern edge of town, hard by the Pearl River, driving down a mile and a half down a dark ribbon of narrow road, threatened on either side by glowering oak and cypress trees heavily veiled in kudzu. The area had been flooded once when we lived there, and apparently had at least one other flood in the intervening years. But the current residents were doing what they could to fight back and hold on; in a couple of cases, homeowners had raised their houses on stilts. Being back there, going down that road again, seeing that beaten down neighborhood attempting to keep up appearances against the inevitable - it was all pretty depressing. I didn't linger for long; I just couldn't take very much of it. Whatever lingering nostalgia I had for the place was wiped out by that visit; I've never been back. I was eager to finally get to New Orleans and shake the sights and memory of my old living place out of my head.

I got into the city, found a place to park, and started strolling around amongst the throngs of revelers. I knew that there was going to be a parade by one of the minor krewes later that afternoon, so I tried to make my way over to the parade route. In the years that I had been away, I had all but forgotten how much of a zoo Mardi Gras was, but I was quickly reminded. There's a certain "I'm dancing as fast as I can" element to the carnival, as if some people were trying a little too hard to have (and prove they're having) a good time. The French Quarter was jam-packed with a sea of people laughing, dancing and drinking - all three activities with abandon. And when the parade started, it got even more frenzied and weird. You could see the odd glare of determination, almost desperation, in the eyes of some revelers as they grabbed for the cheap plastic trinkets and doodads thrown from the parade floats. More than once that day, I saw grown men and women knocking over children and each other while snatching up a bead necklace or fake doubloon. I didn't stay at the parade very long; there was something depressing about watching people "making merry" in that fashion. I left, and made my way back over to the heart of the French Quarter.

While wandering through the bars and shops in and around Bourbon Street, I had a completely unexpected encounter with one of my former Naval Academy classmates, who I hadn't seen since our graduation a year earlier - I suppose this person, who at that time was in flight school in Pensacola, Florida, apparently felt the same sort of urge I felt that drew them to New Orleans. They were known for being a renowned party maniac back at Navy, so I really shouldn't have been surprised by their presence there. I ran smack-dab into this person as they were reeling down the middle of the street; it was obvious that they arrived much earlier to the city than I had, and had no compunctions about partaking liberally in the refreshments being offered. Despite this person's obviously inebriated condition, they immediately recognized me and screamed happily as I was enveloped in their sloppy bear hug. I was practically knocked to my knees, not from the unsteady impact of the collision itself, but moreso from the powerful booze fumes wafting off out of their lungs and off of their body - it was like they had been swimming in rum. This person's left hand clutched a big plastic cup containing the dregs of the latest in a series of Hurricane cocktails drained during the day; as I was pulled in, they managed to dump a goodly portion of these remnants down my back. Despite all of this, I was happy to see a familiar face. I tried to carry on a conversation, but my attempt was brief, as this person was too far gone to comprehend much of what I was saying, and in no condition to respond. After a while, they just sort of wandered off down the street, and that was that. A weird encounter, but one par for the course during Mardi Gras.

 [Note that I have refrained from providing any specifics identifying this person, as I have no desire to impugn their current status and reputation - the next time I saw them was years later, on television, where they were part of the crew on the International Space Station. Funny how people turn out . . .]

After a few hours of wandering around, dodging drunks, poking my head into shops and listening to music, I got a little tired of fighting the crowds and weirdness - I was starting to feel a little like Yossarian in Rome. It was getting towards dusk, so I decided to make my way over the waterfront area for a bite to eat; I figured it might be less crowded down there than in the French Quarter. I made my way south, looking for a decent-looking restaurant. But en route, I came across the local Tower Records store (now long gone) a couple of blocks south of Bourbon Street, close to the riverfront. Of course, I decided to step inside for a bit.

There were a lot of people in Tower as well, but the scene in there wasn't as nuts as it was outside the store, so it was a semi-oasis of relative calm. I avoided the jazz and blues sections, which were understandably getting most of the action, and made my way over to the rock/alternative cassettes. As I get there, I remembered that Cocteau Twins song I heard out of Athens on my way to Louisiana, and decided to look it up. I wasn't too optimistic - the pickings at that New Orleans store seemed to be pretty slim. But lo and behold, there in the "C"s was an EP by the band, Love's Easy Tears, which contained the song I was looking for.

After a fine meal of spicy crawfish (the first I'd had since I left Louisiana years earlier) at some nondescript joint close by the river, I made my way back to the Bourbon Street area. It was full nighttime now, and the revelry, as it were, was in full swing. If I thought that people were going overboard during that afternoon, that paled in comparison to what was happening that evening, the last weekend before the start of Lent. I made my way as carefully as I could down the avenues through the roaring, jostling throng, my wallet safe in my front pocket with my hand over it. The entire area was a whirlwind of movement and undirected energy and noise, people shouting, laughing, singing and reeling around. But near the edge of the French Quarter, where I managed to find myself, I noticed that the revelry was pretty well concentrated; a lot of the streets and alleys leading directly away from the area were nearly pitch-dark, with none of the lights, crowds or excitement present from literally the next street over. It's a pretty spooky and unsettling feeling, looking to your left and seeing brightness and energy, then glancing right and seeing essentially . . . nothing, a veritable black hole. I can't think of a more literal demonstration of the whole "black/white" New Orleans dichotomy I was referring to earlier.

After a while, I began to tire of the whole scene; watching people striving to fulfill a need to get away from themselves and their ordinary lives, to make beasts and fools and satyrs of themselves (if only for a day or two), gets old and a bit depressing very quickly.  Being in the midst of it all, I got a close-up view as to how dark, venal, dirty and ugly it all seemed, and I'd had enough, of both New Orleans and the entire celebration. I decided to leave. I finally made my way out of the French Quarter, searching for the street where I parked my car, feeling filthy and a bit disgusted with myself for being part of that scene, if only as a spectator. At that moment, Mardi Gras in New Orleans seemed like the worst thing in the world.

But then, I looked back towards the Quarter . . . and saw the glistening puddles of beer (or whatever) and glinting shards of broken glass covering the streets . . . and heard the various sources of music blending into a beckoning, cacophonous melody . . . and watched the gaily-dressed people who remained swirling and milling around underneath the bright multicolored lights of the bars and restaurants. And despite it all, I couldn't help but think how fun and inviting - how beautiful - it all looked . . . so much so, that I nearly turned around and went back into it. But in the end, I went and found my car and left for home.

I stopped in Mississippi overnight at some fleabag motel, and made it back to Athens later that afternoon. En route, I opened my new Cocteau Twins cassette and played it several times during the journey. Here's the song lineup:

1. Love's Easy Tears
2. Those Eyes, That Mouth
3. Sigh's Smell of Farewell
4. Orange Appled

 All of the songs were sweeping, soaring and majestic, but I noticed within them all an undertone of longing and sadness, a hint of menace in the music.  And after a bit, it struck me that there were parallels between The Cocteau Twins and The Crescent City celebration. Mardi Gras is about joy, about cutting loose and having a good time. But like Love's Easy Tears, there was an undercurrent of melancholy in the annual event. Mardi Gras is New Orleans dressed up, but like an old woman who puts on gaudy makeup and age-inappropriate clothes in order to appear to be something she is not, there's something a bit 'not right' about it.

I went into New Orleans intent on seeing the bad side - the dirt, and the drunks, and the darkness, and that's what I came away with, only seeing the beauty at the very end of my visit.  But I was wrong to focus on the negative features of the city and the event. It's that combination of gaiety and despair, laughter and screaming, brightness and shadow that makes Mardi Gras what it is. It's not sanitized and perfect . . . but it works, just like the combo of majesty and misery works in the Cocteau Twins music. It was through listening to these tunes that I finally began to understand Mardi Gras. Love's Easy Tears was the first Cocteau Twins release I ever purchased - but it would be far from the last.

Here's The Cocteau Twins' Love's Easy Tears EP, released on 4AD on September 1st, 1986.  Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoyed your February, wherever you are.  

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The Lucy Show - Mania

Well, here we are at the end of another year. So long, 2013! And thanks a bunch to the 62,000+ of you who visited this funny little site for the first time over the past year. I greatly appreciate all of the new visitors, along with those of you who have returned time and again, who all have taken the time to check out my blog. I hope that this site has entertained and possibly enlightened you over the past year, exposing you to new bands you may not have heard of and obscure albums you may not have been aware of or may have forgotten about over the years. I have responded to over 2,500 download requests during 2013, so it appears that many of you found something here of interest! For that I am grateful.

With the year coming to a close, I'd like to include you all in on a little tradition I observe every New Year's Day.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, after my graduation from USNA in the summer of 1987, I spent the rest of that year and the early part of 1988 living in Athens, Georgia, where I attended the Navy Supply Corps School (NSCS), a small base/installation located in the northwestern part of the city. After being an inmate of the Academy's military dorm, Bancroft Hall, for the previous four years, I had no remote intention of living under that yoke again, in the Bachelor Officers Quarters (BOQ) on the school grounds. I searched around a bit, and found a small two-bedroom duplex on the far end of town, south of the University of Georgia, on an extension of Milledge Avenue (Athens' main north/south drag). The place was a shitbox - tatty carpeting, peeling paint, poor water pressure and inadequate heating. But it was cheap and furnished, and the doors locked securely, which was all I wanted and needed. Plus it was close to UGA's Sorority Row, and a short drive from the downtown music clubs like the 40 Watt and the Uptown Lounge. So I was happy. Besides, I wasn't going to be living there for that long.

A few of my old Annapolis classmates attending NSCS with me did decide to live in the BOQ, including my old friend Pat. Pat was a native Californian and a fellow New Wave fan like myself, although his tastes skewed more towards European synthpop bands like Talk Talk, OMD and Alphaville. We hung out a lot during our time in Athens, heading out to local shows there (we saw X and The Beat Farmers at the Uptown that year) and in Atlanta (U2's Unforgettable Fire tour at the Omni that spring, at the time the best show I'd ever attended in my life), chasing college girls at the GA Bar downtown, or just chilling out and listening to one another's large music collections. I wasn't into a lot of the stuff that he owned and liked, but a couple of things caught my fancy, including an album called Mania by an obscure English New Wave band called The Lucy Show. I liked it so much that that fall, Pat hooked me up with a cassette copy. I didn't know much about these guys at the time; much of their history I learned years later . . .

The Lucy Show was formed in early 1983 by two Canadian musicians transplanted to England, bassist Rob Vandeven and guitarist Mark Bandola, along with two of their friends, drummer Bryan Hudspeth and keyboardist Pete Barraclough. Bandola and Vendeven collaborated on the band's songwriting and shared vocal duties. The group wasted no time in getting noticed, later that year releasing the single "Leonardo Da Vinci" b/w "Kill The

Beast" on independent Shout Records, a record that received both attention and airplay from influential British DJ John Peel. This in turn generated some major label interest; by early 1984, The Lucy Show was signed by A&M Records. During that year, A&M (through its Piggy Bank Records offshoot) released two more of the band's singles ("See It Goes" b/w "Resistance" and "Electric Dreams" b/w "History Part 1") and a four-song EP, Extended Play.

In 1985, A&M released the band's first album, ...Undone. The band's sound at the time was darker and more brooding than their future releases, but still quite melodic. I've heard other critics express similarities between some album cuts (like "Better On The Hard Side" and the title track) to music that The Cure was putting out at the time - yes, there are some parallels there. But after I purchased and listened to this album years later, I found that there was more to The Lucy Show than just being a Cure rip-off band. In their music, I also found a significant strain of European post-punk present. And in the ringing guitars and bass rhythms on songs like "Wipe Out" and "Ephemeral (This Is No Heaven)", I hear a lot of Australian influences (whether intentional or not), from bands like Radio Birdman and Hunters & Collectors.

All in all, the music on ...Undone was a very compelling mix, and in its day it got the band noticed, at home and abroad. The album received favorable critical reviews, and sold briskly in the US, eventually reaching #1 on the influential College Music Journal (CMJ) charts. It looked like The Lucy Show had it made . . . but shockingly and inexplicably, A&M decided to drop the band from its roster. On New Year's Eve, 1985, The Lucy Show found itself without a label.

Scrambling now, in early 1986 the band signed with the American arm of Australian independent label Big Time Records (the home of both Air Supply and The Hoodoo Gurus). Later that year, they released their follow-up, Mania. On this disc, The Lucy Show radically changed its sound from that of their debut album. The moody, atmospheric nature of their early songs was almost totally dispensed with; in its place were bouncy, poppy, upbeat tunes, augmented with a heavy dose of shimmering synthesizers.

In many ways, the band's new sound was textbook mid-80s New Wave music, and could be viewed as a blatant ploy for immediate commercial success and radio play - which, after present-day reflection, I find that being somewhat of an odd move on their part. With their first album, the group already proved that they could find financial and critical success with their darker sound; in my opinion, there was no need to make such a radical shift.

Then I thought a little further, and put myself in the band's shoes. By late 1985, The Lucy Show had built upon almost three solid years of steady sales and upward momentum - momentum that was suddenly terminated when they lost their major-label contract. The shock of A&M's seemingly arbitrary asshole-ery undoubtedly weighed heavily on the band members' minds, perhaps causing them to adjust their musical focus in order to quickly regain that momentum.

Whatever the reason, what was done was done. And fortunately for the band, the move initially paid off. Reviews of Mania were even more laudatory than for ...Undone, and the album enjoyed good sales, once again topping the American CMJ charts. Even MTV began playing the video to the first album single, "A Million Times". It looked as though The Lucy Show was moving forward once more.

Then the bottom dropped out once again. Big Time Records' financial fortunes suddenly declined precipitously in late 1986/early 1987, and by the spring of 1987, the label had filed for bankruptcy and released its stable of artists. The Lucy Show, seemingly snakebit, was out in the cold once again. With the band's finances also in dire straits, the two Canadians politely asked Hudspeth and Barraclough to leave, and continued on as a duo. Bandola and Vendeven tried to make one final go at it on a new label, uber-indie Redhead Records, but the single they released in 1988, "Wherever Your Heart Will Go", sank like a stone. Game over. The Lucy Show broke up later that year.

. . . But all of that was in the future. In the late fall of 1987, all I knew was that I liked Mania. During a Christmas break in classes, I drove home to Virginia to spend the holidays with my folks. I spent New Year's Eve that year as I had for the past couple of years, partying with friends at various clubs in Washington D.C. After a long night of fun ringing in the New Year, I drove back down I-66 to my parents' house in Northern Virginia in the wee hours, and decided to pop one of the various cassettes I brought along into the car's tape player. Of course, I selected The Lucy Show, and the first song that cued up was "New Message":

I didn't get much out of the lyrics to this song. But for me, the music itself gave off such a positive vibe and uplifting, happy energy, that it made me feel that much more optimistic about the upcoming year. "New Message", "New Year" . . . I played the tune several more times on the way home, further linking the song and the day firmly together in my head (and yeah, I know that "New Message" has nothing whatsoever to do with the holiday - but still . . .).

That was over twenty-five years ago . . . But every New Year's Day since then, I make a point of playing "New Message" at least once during the day, in honor of the occasion. Of course occasionally in the past, the optimism and happiness I hoped to engender for the upcoming year with the playing of this song hasn't quite panned out. But like eating black-eyed peas, touching ashes or wearing red underwear, this song is one of my New Years good luck traditions, and as such I prefer to play it in the off chance that it brings me good fortune during the coming year than not do it and suffer the consequences!

You don't have to be as superstitious about it as I am . . . but still, here it is for you to enjoy: The Lucy Show's Mania, released by Big Time Records (America) in 1986. Enjoy, and I look forward to hearing from you all in 2014! Again, Happy New Year!

[BTW - this is the original 1986 release, not the expanded 2005 rerelease.]

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Poll Results - "Best 'Worst Album'"

Well, not surprised at the overall top choice. True Stories wasn't the greatest film in the world, and it got some pretty bad reviews in some quarters. But I (and many others) believe that the muted response to Talking Heads' album True Stories was due to the film's negative reception, with most people assuming that the disc was a movie soundtrack album (which it wasn't - it's a Talking Heads studio album featuring recordings of songs from the film rather than songs sung by the film's cast). Even with the huge hit "Wild Wild Life" (#4 US) on it, True Stories only made it to #28 on the US album charts, significantly lower than their previous (and in my opinion, musically weaker) album Little Creatures. There are plenty of other great songs on this disc, including one, the name of which was eventually appropriated by one of the greatest bands of the past decade - "Radio Head".

But enough of that - here are the Best Worst Albums, as selected by you all:

True Stories (Talking Heads) - 6 votes
Presence (Led Zeppelin) - 4 votes
Dirty Work (The Rolling Stones) - 2 votes
Good Stuff (The B-52's) - 1 vote
Cut The Crap (The Clash) - 1 vote
Hard (Gang Of Four) - 1 vote
One Hot Minute (The Red Hot Chili Peppers) - 1 vote
Halfway To Sanity (The Ramones) - 1 vote

And the rest, which apparently have no redeeming qualities whatsoever (0 votes):

Mad Not Mad (Madness), Around The Sun (R.E.M.), The Woman In Red (Stevie Wonder), Goodbye Cruel World (Elvis Costello), Give My Regards To Broad Street (Paul McCartney), Never Let Me Down (David Bowie), Dylan & The Dead (Bob Dylan), Total Devo (Devo), Packed! (The Pretenders)

I'm afraid to say that I own all of the albums on this List of Shame. But I must say that there are particular ones that have incurred the majority of my wrath over the years. The ones on this list that pissed me off the most, in no particular order:

- Good Stuff - The B-52's: As I've mentioned before, I was a Bee-Fives fan from waaaaaaay back. So no one was as pleased as I was when the band finally broke through in 1989 with their hit album Cosmic Thing. Sure, I was a little put out when all of those neophyte B-52's fans came out of the woodwork in its wake, shouting "Tin roof - rusted!" at the top of their lungs at every one of the band's now-packed concerts, but who generally were unfamiliar with the group's earlier songs. But that was OK - I guess when a 'cult' band goes big-time, the original fans will always sort of feel that way. So no worries there. But I was shocked to see how quickly this newfound critical and commercial adulation tore the band apart. Cosmic Thing was the first LP that the band made any serious coin on; Cindy Wilson took the money and ran, quitting the band in late 1990. With both Wilsons gone (Ricky died in 1985), it should have been time for the band to call it a day. Instead, the remaining trio (Kate Pierson, Keith Strickland and Fred Schneider) decided to soldier on, releasing Good Stuff in 1992. Good Stuff is a classic 'cash in' album, with the remaining members of the group milking their now-humongous fan base for one last big paycheck before pulling the plug. I remember buying this disc that June just before going on a road trip, so I could listen to it in the car on the way down. I thought the first song, "Tell It Like It T-I-Is", was a weak opener, but I expected the album to pick up as it progressed. No such luck. Every song on that album was weak, and WAY too long (average of 5:30 per song, with "Dreamland" clocking in at over SEVEN minutes). And frankly, the band sounded sort of worn out and jaded. It seemed that the band was going out with a whimper, instead of a bang . . .

- Cut The Crap - The Clash: I thought Combat Rock was brilliant (as I wrote in an earlier posting), so I was champing at the bit for The Clash's next release. However, I wasn't fully plugged into the whole music scene at that time, specifically the alternative music press. If I was, I would have heard more about the tensions within The Clash, specifically between Joe Strummer and Mick Jones, which eventually led to the latter's departure from the group in late 1983. You would think this would be a problem, since Jones essentially wrote all of the band's music up to that time. Undeterred, Strummer teamed up with controversial band manager Bernie Rhodes to co-write a bunch of new material, recruited a bunch of no-name musicians, and with them released these cowritten songs on Cut The Crap in November 1985. I bought this album on cassette the weekend before I headed up to the U.S. Military Academy, as part of a 7-day exchange program between the academies, ostensibly so Navy could see how Army lived, and vice-versa [quick aside: a VERY grim week there - cold and grey, in the middle of fucking nowhere. And EVERY cadet I spoke to there was hating life, rueing the day they ever HEARD of West Point . . . ]. During the bus ride from Annapolis to New York, I listened to this entire album a couple of times, and couldn't believe how bad it was. It was all just tired sounding sloganeering, a lame attempt to get back to The Clash's pure punk roots. Also remember that Mick Jones' new band, Big Audio Dynamite, put out their first album, the outstanding This Is Big Audio Dynamite, the month before this travesty came out - if Clash fans needed any further evidence as to the relative talents of Jones and Strummer, all they had to do was compare the two releases. Apparently I'm not alone in this assessment of the 'final Clash album' - the original band themselves (including Joe Strummer) have disowned this album, and its songs have never appeared on any official Clash compilation or retrospective. Cut The Crap is the Rocky V of Clash albums.

- Total Devo - Devo: I was as big a Devo fan as anyone, back in the day. But I can tell you quite frankly that Devo was D-O-N-E by 1982. Their first trio of albums (Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!, Duty Now For The Future, and Freedom Of Choice) are pretty much unassailable, and even New Traditionalists, while somewhat weaker than the first three, is still a quality album. Their fifth album, 1982's Oh No! It's Devo, with its near-total reliance on synthesizers, was the first Devo album to completely splash the bowl. The follow-up, 1984's Shout, was another synthy stinker that ended my Devo fandom. But still the band soldiered on, essentially becoming embarrassing parodies of themselves. Some band members were smart enough to realize that the ship was dead in the water and sinking rapidly - longtime drummer and stalwart Alan Myers left the band around this time. He was replaced by former Gleaming Spires/Sparks drummer David Kendrick, who manned the kit for the next release, 1988's Total Devo. This album is crap, crap, crap, with Devo still concentrating on an electronic sound that had run its course five years earlier. There were no memorable songs or moments on this disc, which barely entered the Billboard Top 200 before quickly fading away. Even with the public making a loud and clear rejection of the band, Devo STILL had the gumption/wherewithal to release one more album, 1990's Smooth Noodle Maps, before the band finally, mercifully collapsed.

And so much for that. Thanks again to all who voted. I'll try to think of another poll question soon.

. . . Well, hell - since I brought this album up, I might as well have the damn thing available here; here's True Stories, released in 1986 on Sire Records. Bon appetit!

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Love Tractor - This Ain't No Outerspace Ship

As you can probably tell from my posts, I was (and am) a big fan of the old Athens sound, beginning with the B-52's and R.E.M., and branching out to less-well-known but still vital bands from that era like Pylon, Oh-OK and Buzz of Delight. Love Tractor was an Athens band that appeared very late on my radar, probably because what they were initially into was a bit removed from the other local bands of that time.

The band was formed in April 1980 by two local guitarists, Mike Richmond and Mark Cline, more as a way to alleviate the boredom of living in the one-horse town Athens was back then, rather than creating/joining a new musical movement. The two began gigging around Athens as a duo, accompanied at first by a drum machine. But along the way, they began adding members on bass and keyboards, and shed the drum machine for a succession of flesh-and-blood drummers (including, briefly, a pre-R.E.M. Bill Berry) before settling on Kit Schwartz behind the kit.

The major difference that set Love Tractor apart from the other bands vying for stage time at the 40 Watt Club and Tyrone's back then was in their sound - Love Tractor was a TOTALLY instrumental folk-rock band; no vocals whatsoever in their performances.

Now, I'll be honest, with very few exceptions, instrumental bands bore the shit out of me. Instrumental rock is no picnic in itself, but of all the genres, instrumental jazz ensembles have got to be the worst and most ennui-inducing for me. For example, I've recently been frequenting a local Cuban restaurant here in a sketchy part of town that features great food, dirt-cheap beer and some of the best, most eclectic live music performances in the city every weekend. In the couple of months I've been a regular at this place, I've been treated to superb groups offering up rock, big band, world music [quick shout-out on this one: the excellent band I saw there under this genre, Copal, came all the way from Brooklyn to our little burg, and featured a stunning redhead fronting the band on violin(!) and a weirdly hypnotic classical/Middle Eastern/gypsy/hip-hop sound - if that sounds like something you'd be into, run, do not walk, and pick up their latest, Into The Shadow Garden], what have you.

However, the worst band I saw there was a couple of weeks ago, when I went to the restaurant for a bite to eat and a couple of drinks. I got there fairly early in the evening, and while I ate I watched the band set up - just a quartet of nondescript young guys, sporting the apparently de rigueur look of torn jeans and scraggly post-secondary school goatees. I was looking forward to some decent music, but these guys completely disappointed me. Their entire set consisted of fifteen-twenty minute-long meandering "jazz explorations", with each player seemingly just doing his own thing. There was no visible connection/acknowledgement between the players, and as such, their music did nothing to draw the audience in. After a very short while, their music moved from boring to annoying, and I fled the venue much earlier that usual.

So, I can sort of imagine what Love Tractor was facing during their early years of playing in Athens. Cline has admitted in interviews that his was never "the most marketable band". With its shows, the band never really built up the sort of buzz and mythology that surrounds the early efforts of the B-52s (i.e., the legendary Valentine's Day party) or R.E.M. (practicing in the abandoned church). It seems that they were more admired than loved in town.

It took a while for them to find a recording contract, but Love Tractor was finally signed to DB Records in 1982. They released their first album, an all instrumental self-titled effort, later that year. Love Tractor received decent reviews, but sold poorly. For their second DB Records album, 1984's Till The Cows Come Home, the band began experimenting with actual words, adding a couple of songs with lead vocals by Richmond.

The relative success of this record, coupled with DB Records' increasingly shaky financial posture, led to the band's move to the larger Big Time Records (America) label in 1986. Their first release on their new label was 1987's This Ain't No Outerspace Ship. This album was Love Tractor's first full-scale foray into vocal rock, and in my opinion they pull it off with great success. Their sound on this record can be described as sort of a funkier R.E.M., with Richmond's twangy voice well suited to songs such as "Beatle Boots" and "Outside With Ma".

As fortune would have it, I moved to Athens shortly after this album came out, and the record was being championed by WUOG, the local independent college station. They played "Outside With Ma" to death, so much so that I fell in love with it. If I recall correctly, I bought this album on vinyl at either the Wuxtry, the famous local record shop, or at the local college co-op/music store located just down the street. It wasn't until years later that I replaced my vinyl copy with a CD version.

Love Tractor released one more album on Big Time, 1989's Themes From Venus, before breaking up later that year. The band members went on to join several other bands, but they all remained friends, and every year or so they would all get together in Athens to reconnect and write songs together. Seven years after breaking up, they reformed, and after touring around the country for several years, released a reunion record, The Sky At Night, on Razor & Tie in 2001.  They broke up again shortly afterwards.

So, here's what in my opinion is Love Tractor's best album, This Ain't No Outerspace Ship from 1987 (distributed by RCA). Be sure to check out their covers of Marvin Gaye's "Got To Give It Up" and The Gap Band's "Party Train"! Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

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The B-52's - Bouncing Off The Satellites

[Well, I'm back . . . sort of. I'm cheating a little, by backdating this one. I originally started it early in October, but never finished it in time for the anniversary I was trying to commemorate. Sorry for being away from this thing for so long. I had a lot of ideas that I wanted to post, but a combination of more pressing matters, time spent away, and simply my own general sloth kept me from creating actual words from my thoughts. No promises on how active I'll be in the next few days/weeks - I made that mistake last month! But, for now, here you go - enjoy:]

If you read my earlier posts, you know that I absolutely love The B-52's. I've been a fan of theirs for over thirty years (God, have they been around that long (and a more pertinent question - am I THAT old?)?), and have attended a countless number of their live shows (has to be somewhere around 12-15 now). I know this band back and forth, and can speak knowledgeably about band minutiae such as the name of Kate Pierson's pre-B-52's hippie band (The Sun Donuts), and as the relative quality of their opening acts over the years (The Bongos were pretty good, Royal Crescent Mob sucked). I briefly lived in Athens, GA, the band's hometown, and while I was there I used to go to Allen's for a beer (no longer 25 cents though (and this was before "Deadbeat Club" was even recorded, so gimme a break)), and on the way into school every day, I drove by the house at the far end of Milledge Avenue where the band played their legendary first concert, out on the back porch.

Probably my favorite of all the B-52's shows I've seen was the one they played Providence in March 1982, in support of their latest album Mesopotamia (I think it was called the "Meso-Americans Tour"). At the time, I was living and going to school in Newport, RI, and I had recently turned one of my new buddies there (we'll call him "Camob") onto the band. Camob came to Rhode Island straight out of the San Fernando Valley of suburban Los Angeles, and though he did his best to hide it, his unconscious mannerisms and vocal inflections pegged him as a straight-up early '80s "Valley Boy". He was like a bigger, beefier, less aggro Billy Zabka - only if Zabka had brown hair, no karate skills and a more normal, formative childhood. Camob was also smart as hell, although he was doing his level best to murder his cerebral cortex every weekend by liberally dousing it with as much ethanol as he could procure (the man had a stinging, insatiable yen for stinkwater that was truly remarkable for someone of his tender years, and positively hair-raising for a teetotaling geek like myself back then). Couple all of that with his Devo fandom, and it's no wonder we quickly became fast friends.

Anyway, after his first taste of their music, Camob dug the Bee-Fives pretty much from the get-go, and as such, he and I decided to go to the Providence concert. He talked one of our classmates into going with us as well - not that we were particular buddies with the guy, but mainly because he had a car we could use for the trip (well, that HE could use - I still couldn't drive just yet). The evening of the show, Camob and the other guy loaded up the car with brown-bagged "supplies" (I didn't bother to ask what they were), and we all headed across the Newport Bridge, en route to the state capital.

The sold-out show was at the Providence Performing Arts Center, a beautiful old opera house-type venue with red velvet seating and a huge balcony hanging over a third of the floor seating. We got to Providence early enough to find good parking close to the theater. But instead of running right in to claim our seats and settle in for the opening act, the other two guys with me insisted on breaking into their bags of "supplies", which basically consisted of several cans of semi-cold Busch beer and a contraption consisting of a long flexible plastic tube about an inch in diameter, with a funnel at one end. Being a nondrinker, I had no idea what the thing was for - looked like some sort of mouth douche to me. But I soon found out what the deal was, as the guys plugged up one end and began pouring can after can of brewski into this contraption, which they called a "beer bong". I watched in amazement as Camob held the bong high, raised the nonfunnel end to his lips, and in a flash emptied the equivalent of four cans of beer straight into his belly, without losing a drop (my boy was very proud of his ability to "open his throat" to make that happen . . . and we'll just leave that line alone . . .).

Needless to say, by the time the show started, Camob was roaring drunk. Our driving buddy, who didn't partake as liberally as Camob did, seemed to be holding his own; of course, I hadn't had a drop. I had more than a bit of concern regarding how we were going to be able to drive back to Newport later that night, but my worries were momentarily forgotten as the curtain came up. Like I mentioned earlier, the opening band, The Bongos, were pretty good. I'd never heard of them before that show, but a lot of their songs stuck with me, including "Number With Wings".

But of course, the main reason I was there was for the headliner, and they did not disappoint. The place was going apeshit as the B-52's played classic song after classic song. Outside of "Mesopotamia", I don't recall them playing anything else off of their latest album. The set was concentrated on the big hits from their first two discs: "Private Idaho", "52 Girls", "Rock Lobster", "Dance This Mess Around". People were out of their seats the entire time, dancing in the aisles and causing such a ruckus in the PPAC balcony that Fred Schneider paused the show momentarily to implore the people up there not to bounce around so much, lest they cause the balcony to collapse on the rest of the audience! Just a great, great show.

(And as for our return trip, Camob's friend had danced and sweated off enough booze to become sober enough to get us back to Newport. I rode shotgun, still petrified, ready to grab the wheel at the first sign of the guy slipping into a sudden alcohol coma, while Camob lay prone in the backseat, mumbling to himself in a profound liquor stupor - another TKO victory recorded by the infamous beer bong. Thank God he made it back there without booting - that would have made a bad ride THAT much worse.)

I've been there and back again with this band, long before their mainstream popularity, so the death of Ricky Wilson back in 1985 was particularly affecting. The guy was a guitar genius, and while Keith Strickland has definitely picked up where Ricky left off (and saved the band in the process), to this day the band is still missing the spirit that Ricky brought to their music. I'll always be a fan, though - as will Camob, who after all of the these years is still one of their #1 acolytes.

So on the 25th anniversary of his death, I offer you the last album recorded by all five original members, Bouncing Off The Satellites, released in September 1986 on Warner Brothers Records. This album doesn't quite have the loose, party-hearty feel of their earlier albums, but there is still enough in the way of goofy ideas and good music to make up for the overall stiffness and broader lack of imagination.

Enjoy:

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Talk Back - "Rudy" (and two other songs that should have been on the "Pretty In Pink" Soundtrack that weren't)

This post isn't so much about what's on the Pretty In Pink soundtrack - it's about what's NOT on it, and my search for these songs. As such, I'm not posting the entire soundtrack here - if you want it, check out my fellow blogger Babakazoo's Classic Groove's posting from a little while back.

I'll start by saying that yeah, back in 1986 when it came out, I liked this movie. Seems now that in this day and age, it's sort of a crime to admit that you are/were a fan of John Hughes movies in the '80s. A lot of over-35 hipsters like to adopt the pose that, back in the day, they were above these types of films. Let me disabuse you of any notion to the contrary: they're lying - back then, there was hardly anyone who wasn't a fan of John Hughes movies, and John Hughes teen movies in particular. I mean, let's face it - in less than a four-year span, Hughes either wrote, produced and/or directed the following films: National Lampoon's Vacation; Sixteen Candles; The Breakfast Club; European Vacation; Weird Science; Pretty In Pink; Ferris Bueller's Day Off; and Some Kind Of Wonderful. That's a killer run by any measure, with something in there for pretty much everyone in the family. So to say that you were oblivious to or "anti-" Hughes' ouevre is just patently false posturing. True, the guy splashed a few late-80s turds into the bowl (She's Having A Baby, anyone?). But he proved he still had a lot left in the tank with his first film of the '90s, Home Alone, after twenty years still one of the all-time top grossing movies.

Enough about Home Alone - we were discussing Hughes' teen angst films, and Pretty In Pink in particular. I'm not going to bother rehashing the plot or discussing the characters or anything - I'm sure you know the movie by now, else you wouldn't be reading this. I'm more interested in the music.

One thing you had to hand to Hughes - the guy knew how to cobble together movie music, mixing cuts from the current hot alternative bands from that time (New Order, The Smiths) with classics from the '60s and '70s (Otis Redding, The Rolling Stones, The Beatles) into an eclectic, ear-catching stew that somehow all fit together as a coherent complement to the story. As his career progressed, Hughes got better and better at this; the music underlying The Breakfast Club is better than that for Sixteen Candles; Ferris Bueller's music surpasses that of Pretty In Pink. I think that Hughes' movie soundscapes peaked with Some Kind Of Wonderful, full of great new songs and interesting reworkings of classic songs by some (for their time) cutting-edge artists (Flesh For Lulu, The Jesus & Mary Chain).

The Pretty In Pink movie music is probably the most balanced of these song collections, in terms of old and new stuff. However, there's a difference between the music you actually HEAR in a movie and what is actually RELEASED as the 'official soundtrack' to the film. And that's where I feel the Pretty In Pink Soundtrack failed. Great songs that were an integral part of the film - like Duckie's dance interpretation of "Try A Little Tenderness", and Andie slow-dancing to "Cherish" with a beehive-topped Iona - were left off of the soundtrack album. At the same time, lightweight tunes by Jesse Johnson and INXS were included. But the most egregious omissions were yet to come . . .

Some of the best music in the movie took place in the club scenes, a place called CATS (Andrew Dice Clay played the club doorman). There were two pretty obscure bands featured at CATS: The Rave-Ups, who played excerpts of "Positively Lost Me" and "Rave Up/Shut Up", and Talk Back, which did a very cool neo-reggae tune called "Rudy".

I remember seeing the movie, hearing that song, and thinking, "Who the heck was THAT?" In the days that followed, I eagerly acquired the soundtrack album, fully expecting the coolest songs in the film to be part of that release. But I was profoundly disappointed when I saw that the studio did not see fit give these unknown bands a break by putting them on the disc.

It took me a while to find the Rave-Ups songs, but I ended up tracking them down. Fron what I understand, members of the Rave-Ups were personal friends of Molly Ringwald, and she used her influence to get them into the film (which was cool of her). The Talk Back song, however, proved more elusive.

Talk Back was a straight-up bar band from the Los Angeles area, one of thousands in LA working the circuit and hoping for a break. The band was fronted by Bruno Coon, who word has it is one of the nicer guys in the industry (and you know what they say about nice guys, and where they finish . . .). By all indications, Talk Back's inclusion in Pretty In Pink did nothing for them. The band soldiered on for a few more years, until evolving into Headbone - a new name, but essentially the same sound, fronted by the same guy. It appears they're still making music - the band have a MySpace account, which is updated from time to time. Coon appears to supplement his band income with fairly regular work as a music editor and composer for movies (most recently serving as an editor on this year's Toy Story 3).

Enough about the band background. As for the song, like I said, I searched high and low for "Rudy", to no avail. I have had my antennae up for this one for almost twenty-five years, and it was just last week, by happenstance, that I finally stumbled over a copy of it. Mind you, this is not the original version of "Rudy" taken directly from the film; this is a live version by Talk Back/Headbone recorded at some bar much later. But it still sounds very close to the original.

So here are the three songs that SHOULD have been on the Pretty In Pink Original Motion Picture Soundtrack:

- The Rave-Ups - "Positively Lost Me";
- The Rave-Ups - "Rave Up/Shut Up"; and finally, the woefully hard-to-find
- Talk Back - "Rudy"

"Rudy" is in .m4a format (sorry), the others in .mp3. Enjoy this music . . . and, as always, let me know what you think.

(and BTW, just to put my own two cents in: I'm not Calvin Klein, but I gotta say that the dress Andie made and wore to the prom in the film is HIDEOUS . . .)

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