Tag Archives: Garage Rock

The Bulletproof Vests: (Don’t) Throw My Love Away

Throwback garage rock meets power punk

This Memphis quintet plays amped-up garage-pop that lives somewhere amidst the scratchily anthologized garage-rock singles of AIP’s Pebbles series, the power-punk ethos of the Buzzcocks, the post-punk aggression of The Fall, and a splash of surf-rock in the guitars. The result is more vintage Northwest than Southern. Their latest release is, appropriately enough, a mono 7” available via Goner Records and Bandcamp. Or if you’re stuck in the modern world, you can name your own price for a digital download. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | (Don’t) Throw My Love Away
The Bulletproof Vests’ MySpace Page

Paul Revere & The Raiders featuring Mark Lindsay: The Complete Columbia Singles

Terrific 3-CD anthology of underappreciated powerhouse

Pacific Northwest powerhouse Paul Revere & the Raiders seem to have been lost in shadow of Lenny Kaye’s Nuggets and the hundreds of garage-rock compilations that followed in its wake. They aren’t exactly a secret, having recorded for Columbia, scoring fifteen Top 40 singles, garnering a feature spot on Where the Action Is and hosting their own shows, Happening ’68 and It’s Happening. But neither are they afforded the recognition their hits, B-sides, album cuts and live performances really earned. Perhaps it was the genesis of their stardom in Southern California or their major label association that kept them from garage band legend. Maybe it was the themed costumes – particularly the three-corner hats – or that vocalist Mark Lindsay had a soulful finesse which went beyond the typical garage-punk snot. Or maybe it’s that their run into the mid-70s outlasted their roots. Whatever it was, it’s left the Raiders rich catalog remembered only by a few high-charting hits.

The Raiders’ garage and frat-rock credentials were minted on a string of indie singles, and a recording of rock ‘n’ roll’s national anthem, “Louie, Louie,” that was laid down only a few weeks after the Kingsmen’s. The Raiders version bubbled under the Top 100, and along with the Wailers’ earlier version helped root the song in the Pacific Northwest. Picked up by Columbia the single had a good helping of regional success before Columbia A&R honcho Mitch Miller scuttled it. The group’s original follow-up “Louie-Go Home” sounds more like a grungy take on Otis Blackwell’s “Daddy Rolling Stone,” than a riff on Richard Berry’s original, and once again only managed to grazed the bottom of the Billboard chart. These early single, fueled by Lindsay’s fat saxophone tone and covers of R&B tunes “Night Train” and “Have Love, Will Travel,” weren’t as raw as the Sonics, but were still a lot meatier than most of their L.A., Chicago or Northeast counterparts.

“Louie, Louie,” originally released on the Sande label, turned out to be the Raiders ticket to the big time: a deal with Columbia Records. The group continued to crank out R&B covers for the next year, including a fuzz-heavy cover of Gene Thomas’ country-tinged “Sometimes” and a solid take on the Aaron Neville hit “Over You.” The group’s original were initially limited to B-sides, such as the instrumental “Swim,” but in 1965 the Lindsay/Revere composition “Steppin’ Out” began the group’s assault on the charts. Revere’s organ riffs and a confrontational lyric gave this single a tougher garage sound that took them just shy of the Top 40. A short-lived detour into Jan & Dean-styled car songs (“SS396” b/w “Corvair Baby”) was followed by a trifecta of the group’s best remembered hits.

First up was “Just Like Me,” with a wickedly insinuating organ riff, a brilliant double guitar solo, and a vocal that rises from barely contained verses to emotionally explosive choruses. Next was Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil’s anti-drug “Kicks,” turned down by the Animals and taken to #4 by the Raiders. Lindsay really sells the song, singing the lyric as both a lecture and a plea, forceful on the verses and understanding in the choruses. The group cracked the Top 10 again with another Mann & Weil tune, “Hungry,” propelled by its hypnotically powerful bass line. The group (with Terry Melcher) subsequently began writing many of their own hits and B-sides, including “Good Thing,” “Him or Me,” and “Ups and Downs,” and Melcher began adding studio musicians to the mix.

As 1967 turned into 1968 the band stretched from their Northwest rock roots into sunshine pop, bubblegum, folk rock, soul and light-psych. Fine sides from this period include the Beatle-esque “Too Much Talk,” the groovy theme songs “Happening ‘68” and “It’s Happening,” and the chewy “Cinderella Sunshine” and “Mr. Sun, Mr. Moon.” The latter two are among the sides Lindsey produced for the band after their separation from Terry Melcher and the arrival of three replacement Raiders with Southern roots. By the end of the 1960s the group’s singles were charting lower, often outside the Top 40, but their quality never dipped, and the advent of stereo releases (with 1969’s “We Gotta All Get Together”) finally detached their sound from the monophonic thrash of their Northwest roots.

Their success was renewed in 1971 with a cover of John D. Loudermilk’s “Indian Reservation (The Lament of the Cherokee Reservation Indian),” a song that had been recorded a decade earlier by Marvin Rainwater and with some commercial success by Don Fardon. The Raiders’ version topped the singles charts – their only #1 – and sold a million copies. The renewed success was brief however: a follow-up cover of Joe South’s “Birds of a Feather” just missed the Top 20, and their next four singles charted lower and lower, ending their run with 1973’s barely charting pre-disco “Love Music.” The group’s contract with Columbia ended in 1975, lead singer Mark Lindsay left for a solo career, and though the group soldiered on with sporadic new releases they became more of a fixture on the oldies circuit.

Collectors’ Choice’s 3-CD set offers sixty-six tracks that cover all of the group’s Columbia singles. The B-sides offer some real treats, including the autobiographical “The Legend of Paul Revere,” the Las Vegas grind-styled instrumental “B.F.D.R.F. Blues,” the flower-power “Do Unto Others,” the trippy “Observations from Flight 285 (in 3/4 Time),” the muscular jam “Without You,” the Band-styled country-rock “I Don’t Know,” the Peter & Gordon-ish “Frankford Side Street,” and the organ instrumental “Terry’s Tune.” There are four rarities: the withdrawn “Rain, Sleet, Snow” and its flip “Brotherly Love,” and promo songs for the GTO (“Judge GTO Breakaway”) and a Mattel doll (“Song for Swingy”). The collection closes with the post-Mark Lindsay “Your Love (is the Only Love),” featuring Bob Wooley on lead vocal. Missing are the group’s pre-Columbia singles, including their boogie-woogie instrumentals “Beatnik Sticks” and “Like, Long Hair,” and their last single “Ain’t Nothin’ Wrong.”

This recitation of the group’s Columbia singles hits most of the group’s highlights, but with fourteen LPs to their credit there are some worthy album cuts missing, such as their pre-Monkees version of “(I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone.” That said, this is a superb document of the band’s evolution from Northwest powerhouse into a group that could finesse pop, rock, folk, soul and R&B sounds. Their singles were of an unusually consistent quality, and the group’s ability to chart new directions while retaining the heart of their original identity is truly impressive. For most listeners the group’s name will evoke only one or two of these hits, but as eleven years of singles reveal, there was a whole lot more to Paul Revere and the Raiders than three-corner hats and Northwest garage. [©2010-2012 hyperbolium dot com]

Paul Revere and the Raiders’ Home Page
Mark Lindsay’s Home Page
Phil “Fang” Volk’s Home Page

French Kissing: Oh Suzanne / The Lonely Streets of Cairo

Guitar rock meets retro DIY in a UK garage by the beach

French Kissing is a London band that’s carving out retro garage and surf sounds echoing the twang and reverb of British Invasion instrumentalists like the Shadows, the DIY ethos of late ‘70s punk and new wave bands, the retro vibe of The Milkshakes and Barracudas, and the thick, pop noise of the Jesus and Mary Chain, et al. Their upcoming single rethinks the song “Oh Suzanne,” as originally released on their 2009 EP I Would Let You Know. The new version is more polished, with the bass and drums more evenly blended and the lead and harmony vocals more deftly balanced. The guitar solo that kicks in at 1’40 still suggests Dave Davies’ early work, though with modern tone in place of the raw studio sound of 1964. The new version is planned for a limited edition of 200 vinyl singles, and can be picked up from their label, or streamed below. The B-side, “Cairo,” remains vinyl-only. I’d also highly recommend picking up their previous EP for its evocation of garage punk (ala the Morlocks and Chesterfield Kings) on “I Would Let You Know” and “Please Please.”  [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Oh Suzanne
French Kissing’s MySpace Page

Various Artists: Radio Hits of the 60s

Terrific collection of AM radio’s highly varied legacy

Rather than picking an artist or label or scene or sound, Legacy’s pulled together thirteen original hit recordings that show the range of music that AM radio brought to its listeners. Collected here is New Orleans R&B (“Ya Ya,” 1961 and “Working in the Coal Mine,” 1966), Dixieland Jazz (“Washington Square,” 1963), Easy Listening (“A Fool Never Learns,” 1964), Folk Pop and Rock (“We’ll Sing in the Sunshine,” 1964 and “In the Year 2525,” 1969), Garage Punk (“Little Girl,” 1966), Soul (“I’m Your Puppet,” 1966 and “Cherry Hill Park,” 1969), Bubblegum (“Simon Says,” 1968), Trad Jazz Vocal (“The Ballad of Bonnie and Clyde,” 1968), and Vocal Pop (“Worst That Could Happen,” 1969).

Even within these individual songs you can often hear more than one genre exerting its influence, such as the steel guitar and horns that provide accents to the superb pop production of Merrilee Rush’s “Angel of the Morning.” In this day of highly balkanized music channels and individually programmed MP3 playlists, it’s hard to imagine such variety inhabiting a single mass-market playlist, but that was part of AM radio’s power to attract and keep a broad swath of listeners. Playing this collection will remind you how good record and radio people were at picking and making hits – the winnowing process disenfranchised many, but what got through the sieves, particularly what got to the top of the charts, was often highly memorable.

Legacy’s disc clocks in at a slim 35 minutes, but what’s here is a terrifically nostalgic spin whose songs stand up to repeated listening forty-plus years later. True, Andy Williams’ “A Fool Never Learns” might wear out its welcome before the other tracks, but it’s part and parcel of the ebb and flow of 1960s AM radio. This set isn’t meant to be an all-inclusive compilation of any one thing in particular, but a reminder of the breadth that once graced individual radio stations across the land. There was a unity to AM radio’s audience that’s been replace by the free choice of the empowered individual. That personalization carries with it many benefits, but the range of this set may remind you of what’s also been lost. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Various Artists: ’60s Indie Garage

Rich collection of mostly original mid-60s garage-rock obscurities

You know you’re in for an interesting ride when a compilation begins with an obscure single, “Lady Greengrass” (and it’s flipside “Love of Mine”), by a pre-Tangerine Dream light-psych incarnation called The Ones, from a 7” single that sported the legend “Music for Hippies.” There are a few better known garage items, like the Litter’s “Action Woman,” and E-Types “Put the Clock Back on the Wall,” but most of these cuts are obscure to all but completist collectors of Nuggets, Pebbles and Boulders compilations or the original 45s from which they’re made. You’ll hear lots of fuzztone and reverbed guitars, whining Farfisa, badly recorded drums, tambourine, frat-rock dance beats, and vocals that range from snotty and bored to loud and confrontational. Tracks by the Shadows of Knight’s (“Gloria”) and the Mojo Men (“She’s My Baby”) aren’t the original single versions – though they may be period alternates, and Blue Cheer’s bombastic “Summertime Blues” doesn’t really belong here. Audio quality is good (though, of course, the original records weren’t always great to begin with) and the transcriptions seem to have been cleaned up as there’s virtually no surface noise, clicks or pops. What’s here is listenable, if not always from the best source; the E-Types “Put the Clock Back on the Wall,” for example is available in higher fidelity stereo on Introducing… The E-Types. Like many of Goldenlane’s compilations, the lack of provenance for these tracks keeps this set from achieving the collector’s nirvana of the Nuggets box sets [1 2 3] or Pebbles reissues [1 2 etc.], but 50 tracks for less than the price of a single CD is a great deal even without band bios or track notes. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Mike & The Ravens: No Place for Pretty

MikeAndTheRavens_NoPlaceForPrettyObscure early-60s rock band continues their comeback

Is it possible that an obscure early-60s garage rock band that broke up after a few regional singles could find their mojo forty-five years later? Last year’s Noisy Boys: The Saxony Sessions proved the answer a definitive ‘yes,’ and this year’s No Place for Pretty shows they have even more hard-driving pre-British Invasion frat stompers to bestow upon the world. Hailing from the Northeast Northfield/Plattsburgh scene, the Ravens early years can be found on the collections Nevermore: Plattsburgh 62 and Beyond and the broader Heart So Cold!: The North Country ‘60s Scene, but unlike just about any sixty-year-olds who’ve set out to recapture their youth, the Ravens actually rock harder and meaner and looser than they did in 1962.

Bassist Brian Lyford and drummer Peter Young lay down primal rhythms that are embellished by the hammering rhythm guitar of Steve Blodgett and decorated with screaming leads from his brother Bo. Mike Brassard’s vocals may not have the range or flexibility of his younger years, but they have just as much passion, and passion is what counts here. The Ravens pump out the dark strain of rock that flourished briefly between the original ‘50s innovation and the ‘60s British Invasion reinvention. It’s got the urgent DIY feel of mid-60s garage rock, but without the reactive counterculture pretensions. This is sledgehammer dance music for frat parties, teen dance clubs, roller rinks and dark, sweat-filled bars.

The band’s originals, written with their producer Will Shade, are the sort of elemental rockers that would sound at home on Wailers, Sonics and Kingsmen records. There are crunchy guitar riffs, Bo Diddley beats, a driving guitar instrumental, and plenty of vocal swagger. The album loses a bit of focus in the second half, with the six-minute practice room jam “Dum Doovi,” a loose instrumental coda on “Broken Boy,” and psychedelic inflections that occasionally drift from the rock fundamentals. The album closes strongly with the bass-riffing, “I’ve Taken All I Can,” reminding listeners that well after the novelty has worn off of sixty-something rockers relocating their mojo, these boys are still making some rock ‘n’ roll noise. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Sister Raeven
Mike & The Ravens’ Vintage MySpace Page
Mike & The Ravens’ Contemporary MySpace Page

Various Artists: The Ikon Records Story

various_ikonrecordsstoryTreasure trove of mid-60s Sacramento garage sides

This two-CD set catalogs 58 obscure garage-rock sides waxed at Sacramento’s Ikon Studio in the mid ’60s. Ikon was one of Sacramento’s top professional recording studios, and in addition to commercial work, they operated the custom Ikon label. Local groups, including many Battle-of-the-Band winners visited Ikon to imortalize themselves on a hundred copies of a 7″ single. The low production runs kept Ikon a secret from even many ardent garage rock collectors, and poorly mastered third-party vinyl (by Modern in Los Angeles) often failed to convey the high quality of the original recordings.

Compilation co-producer Alec Palao dug up a reel of original masters, and as the project rolled along, additional masters were recovered. The resulting snapshot of mid-60s young Sacramento is rendered in sound quality often better than the original singles. As a studio-for-hire, Ikon recorded all kinds of music, but Palao and co-producer Joey D keep a bead on garage rock (including snotty punk, folk rock, surf, frat stompers and organ rave-ups), some quite polished and some lovingly inept. This set is a gem, offering top-notch sound quality, good tunes, and plenty of spirited performances. Palao’s extensive band notes fill out a booklet thick with photos and reproductions of period ephemera. [©2009 hyperbolium dot com]