I'll admit it. Even I've privately referred to
Permanent Green Light as "That post-
Three O'Clock band." I didn't have an immediate allegiance to PGL, if only because my intro to the was not through one of their originals, rather a B-52s cover on the
Freedom of Choice compilation. No, in order to
really see the Light, I started with the ringleader's (
Michael Quercio) more renown predecessor band, the aforementioned Three O'Clock. During their mid/late '80s tenure, TO'C christened the very namesake of the movement they were the quintessential vanguard of - the
Paisley Underground. Alongside local L.A. contemporaries Dream Syndicate, Rain Parade and even pre-stardom Bangles, the Three O'Clock married a forward thinking collegiate rock aesthetic with the more docile affectations of '60s psych-pop. From a sonic standpoint, this melange wasn't as sub-rosa as I may be leading on, but the subtle nuances these groups exuded went along way in earning them copious amounts of critical acclaim and cult status.
By 1990, The Three O'Clock were more than half past their anointed hour, and the next year saw the first flurry of activity by Quercio's newly activated Permanent Green Light, a trio fleshed out with emerging area indie stalwarts
Matt Devine (bass) and
Chris Bruckner (percussion). Not a total 180 from what TO'C were about (but nonetheless a horse of a demonstrably different color) PGL's aptitude proved to be a whip smart dalliance of power pop and the more cerebral quotient of ‘90s alt-rock. Survived by an ep, the 1993 full-length
Against Nature, and a clutch of singles, the band's catalog has been cherry picked for the newly minted compendium
Hallucinations, an album that makes an almost air-tight argument for PGL, even more consistent and inviting than the individual releases it's sourced from.
Michael Quercio has a fairly unmistakable timbre - high, running just shy of a falsetto. It was an ideal fit for Three O'Clock's more whimsical New-Romantic forays, but how did that translate to a power trio template? Surprisingly apropos, in fact, as PGL's comparatively muscular tact never exceeded to the point where Quercio was forced to overpower the music. Possessing a stupefying array of sophisticated, melodic chops didn't hurt either, acutely evidenced on "The Truth This Time," "Street Love," and "(You & I Are The) Summertime." And these guys packed a visceral wallop as well, with stinging slammers like "Honestly" and "We Could Just Die" which soared in the same airspace as Redd Kross and
Frosting on the Beater-era Posies. I should also point out that Michael gave guitarist
Matt Devine the "green light" to pen and present some of his own songs, yielding the spare ballads "Portmanteau" and "Marianne Gave Up Her Hand."
Were it not for the fact that Permanent Green Light releases were confined to such small labels (predominantly Gasatanka, a subsidiary of Rockville Records helmed by recently deceased
White Flag frontman
Bill Bartell) there wouldn't be a need for such an exhumation as
Hallucinations. Nonetheless, even if PGL are a posthumous discovery to most there's some fantastic music here that's far better discovered later than never.
File
The Death of Rock under:
Peter Holsapple, Alex Chilton, Big Star, The dB's, proto-power pop, or simply under informal recordings. Music fandom can take a person a long way. In the case of one future dB's co-frontman Peter Holsapple, the man in question was so enamored with the first two Big Star albums, he headed to the band's hallowed home turf of Memphis, TN to track some recordings at the storied Sam Phillips Studios. It was his intention to imbibe some of the vibes that made the Birthplace of Rock and Roll what it was, and perhaps cross paths with his "mentor" Alex Chilton himself.
The Death of Rock is and never was intended to be a proper album. It exists as an artifact to document a mildly haphazard collection of 1978 recordings cut by an ambitious Holsapple who set out to be something of a Chilton protege. Only thing was, by this time Alex had very much fallen out of love with the brand of semi-precious pop that gracefully adorned Big Star's
Radio City and
#1 Record landmark albums, and was very much in the process of forging his own path, soon to be evidenced on the freewheeling and genre dabbling
Like Flies on Sherbert. The first quotient of Death is actually pretty together, with Holsapple previewing two of the dB's signature pieces, the lusciously hooky "Bad Reputation," and nearly as potent "We Were Happy There." The centerpiece of these glorified demos is the ambitious title track, channeling what both contemporary Rolling Stones and The Who had notched themselves up to the late '70s. Amazingly, the song would be given to the Troggs who would retool it into a song dubbed "I'm in Control" for a 1992 reunion album.
Midway through the recordings, Holsapple managed to corner Alex Chilton in a Memphis bar. A belittling compliment from Chilton directed to his junior ultimately led to a jam session, which is what the second tranche of songs on
Death zero in. Per Holsapple's liner notes, AC ambled into Sam Phillips studio shortly after for some casual woodshedding - and the results were caught on tape. Problem was, the very loose collaboration appeared to be intended as a demonstration by Chilton, not so much a substantive recording session. Wielding a painfully untuned bass, the former Big Star/Box Tops wunderkind joined Peter in a seemingly impromptu bluesy piece "Tennis Bum," concerning Chris Bell's fixation for the pastime. "Marshall Law" is similarly cut from less-than-structured cloth, and jammy renditions of "Train Kept a Rollin'" and "Hey Mona" were also priorities of the moment, and in fact make a more lasting impression than the aforementioned Chilton originals. In all frankness this brief meeting of the minds was likely never intended to see the light of day, but it points to the looser direction Alex was embracing, just as his counterpart was striving to be the popsmith his icon was merely five years or so before.
The Death of Rock rounds out with a grab-bag of session leftovers, mostly of Holsapple rehearsal takes including the title cut, "Bad Reputation," and even some
very brief finaglings of Big Star's "O My Soul" and "In the Street." Just don't get your hopes up as far as those renditions. Generally speaking this is not your traditional "reissue," nor is it representative of the quintessence of anyone involved. Nothing seminal here, merely a few moments in time captured on tape, passed along digitally to whomever may be eager enough to experience it.
Both
Hallucinations and
The Death of Rock are available direct from
Omnivore or
iTunes and
Amazon.
It just dawned on me that this disk turned twenty this year. Sometime in 1998 a friend told me these guys sounded like Lifetime and that I'd love them. Gladly, she was correct on both of those claims. They've been a part of my life since, and even though they vastly outdid themselves on subsequent records, I was pretty dazzled with this debut at the time.
Surprisingly, the internet doesn't have much to offer on The Delfields despite this album having only been in existence for ten years. In terms of band-specific details, I can only inform you that these are five NJ cats who seem to have an affinity for Office Space, based on their depiction on the back of the cd case. Luckily, their album is considerably more enticing. Ogres is bejeweled in shimmering, lucid indie pop, tuned into the given intelligentsia of the time - Shins, early Rogue Wave and even Outrageous Cherry. We're served nine concise slices here, and the Delfields don't piddle away a second on anything frivolous or contrived. Be sure to indulge in the sprite "Fawn Fight" for maximum sustained tingle inducement. 
From 1992.
Well, it looks like another blog (I'll let you figure out which one) got the "jump" on this one before yours truly, but I had such a pristine copy of this record I thought I'd go to the trouble of offering my rip. Perhaps it was the alternate spelling of their name or this co-ed duo's post-modern poise that set me up with the impression that the Bunji Jumpers were artsy, brooding types with an oblique axe to grind, but...not so much. The brunt of A Two Z is actually not heavy-handed darkwave or even ostentatious new romantic. "Be Brave" and "These Days" function just fine as forward-thinking pop highlighted by Eva Dilcue's graceful yet impassioned croon. "Comrade" is more angular, punctuated with brass that I don't mesh with so well, whereas the concluding "Bigblackboots" points squarely to the Bunji's peacenik ideals, something I can certainly get behind. This is a damn neat record.
Much ado has been made of Sonic Youth's 1988 double album Daydream Nation - and virtually every scrap of praise and critique has been true. This week marked the thirtieth anniversary of it's release, sparking many a commemoration in social media. 
Stark Raving were a Connecticut export whose lone record, Sniveling and Whining came courtesy of Incas Records, one of my favorite indie imprints of the '80s. Thing is, this fast(ish) and loose co-ed punk trio would have been a more suitable fit for SST, particularly among that label's stable of second-tier acts. They're a bit on the ramshackle end of the spectrum, and their charm begins and ends there. Sniveling and Whining produces the occasional gnarly tune, like "Too Much to Take" and the relatively ambitious "New Highways," which vaguely resembles what X were attempting around the same time. 
From 1980.
Alright, I practically had to take a day off from work to lasso this one all together. Per above, 71 tunes, three hours of content spread across two packed cassettes, and limited to a mere 500 copies. Between digitizing, separating tracks, scanning artwork and the rest of it this took up a good six hours or so of my time. I hope it was worth the effort, but in hindsight what's on here may be of limited appeal. You can chalk that up to the Wiener Dog Comp's relative lack of star-power, or it the very least, a roster of veritable unknowns. 
And what of the bands that occupy these lengthy reels? Most I can't impart very much about, but there are a bunch that caught my eye upon seeing their name on the roster: Pop Zeus, The Resonars, Tenement, Gap Dream and more notably Redd Kross and the Three O'clock, both of whom contribute live covers. Of the more established acts, Thee Oh Sees, The Tyde, King Tuff, and Paul Collins (of Paul Collins Beat fame) all show up and make it count. You'll find some pleasant surprises along the journey as well. I was introduced to the likes of the succulent Frausdots, Nightmare Boyzzz, and the Blank Tapes and regard myself as all the better for it. Finally, I'd be remiss if I failed to point out Dirt Dress' sterling mid-fi spin on Wire's 154-era classic "The 15th."
From 1996. I'm pretty certain a good 30% (or more of you) have heard this one, but to anyone who hasn't, try to set aside some quality time - say a little over an hour.
So you wanna know what Vaporwave is all about? Of course you do. I've got two prime examples for you below. 
Recently had a request for this one. The McGuires were a pop-centric San Francisco treat with something of an acoustic bent. Think a more pedestrian Camper Van Beethoven with a few glints of Crowded House, and to an even lesser extent Aztec Camera and R.E.M. On Start Breathing (apparently their one and only record) the McGuires launch a decidedly digestible and plaintive attack, but incorporate an ample amount of cheeky observations and heart, not to mention heightened tuneful sensibilities, acutely illustrated on "Russian Hill," "Talk About Love," and "Problem With Decision." And in case you're wondering "TV Party" isn't the same tune as the Black Flag classic, but is pretty appealing in it's own right.
