You've got a motor for a mouth and a pack of cigarettes that keep your cardigan lousy.

From 2016.  

**Please do not reveal artist in comments!** 

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swimming 7" (1994, Rough Trade)

Not to be confused with the more current indie conglomerate of the same name, this Swimming were a largely unknown quantity, and per Discogs this was their lone release. They are said to have connections to a contemporary UK indie band, She (who were later rechristened Glitterbox) but this 45 packaged in a relatively scant black and white sleeve offers no personnel details.  The quartet in question was an immensely noisome bunch, with their a-side "cut her out" sounding like Sunny Day Real Estate jettisoning off on a fiery, dream-pop rocket, soon to crescendo into a smoldering plume of feedback and fuselage cinders.  Their second act, "crawl," is a heavy (and heavy handed) spasm of feral stoner rock, possessing some of the trappings of Monster Magnet and Spaceman 3. Not bad at all.

a. cut her out
b. crawl

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Creatures of Habit ep (1990, Fuel)

Another record I picked up, without a single note heard prior, simply because it looked interesting and had a reasonable price tag attached to it. Creatures of Habit were evidently creatures of the Twin Cities, but for what it's worth didn't follow in the footsteps of any of the more obvious Minneapolis forerunners (whose names I'm too lazy to type out).  Instead this quartet suitably fit the bar band mold, albeit they had a batch of original tunes worth unleashing to the world at large.  Despite bearing some discernable pedestrian appeal the Creatures fit the indie mold better than AOR, and more power to 'em if you ask me.  The band's rootsy, and even milder twangier inclinations were in fact smart, not hokey - a trick that can be hard to pull off, but these gents possessed the charm and chops to hone these five cuts into winners. 

01. Forever
02. Stand Up
03. Throw it Away
04. Are Here
05. Use It or Lose It

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Only his blue eyes still drill me as I get to know my friend the floor.

A 1991 collection featuring the bulk of this band's first three EPs spanning 1984-86.

**Please do not reveal artist in comments!**

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Butterfly Child - Tooth Fairy ep (1991, h.ark!)

Apologies for not getting more music to you this past week.  I remember getting a request for this one a few years ago.  Tracking down files of it seemed like a wild goose chase at the time, but I was able to locate it more recently.  Butterfly Child wielded under the radar dream pop from the UK with occasional extra-heady guitar follies to keep things interesting, not unlike those early Moose eps. "Softest Things Since Skin" alone is alluring enough to make me seek out the rest of their catalog.  Surely I've passed over their recordings in used bins over the years being none the wiser. Enjoy.

01 softest thing since skin
02 words that end in 'g'
03 jaqueline frost
04 hollycopter

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The Farewell Party 7" (1988, Cut Out)

I was encouraged by what I heard on the The Farewell Party's 1988 LP, Here a few years ago, and was compelled to seek out this single contemporary to the album.  The F/P's setup was essentially a quartet of Americans whom for whatever the reason decided to eke out a living in West Germany instead of the U.S.. Had this combo been a Stateside endeavor, I'm sure college radio outlets would have embraced them wholeheartedly, given this foursome's penchant for lucid indie-pop creations laced with artsy angles, vaguely hinting at the Go Betweens, Felt, Galaxie 500, and otherwise.  The two originals on this 45, "32 Views of Emma" and "(Such a) Fragile Thing" are at once inspired and  tuneful, bristling with freshness and potential that sadly didn't translate into a follow-up album or even another single.  If you're wondering if their take on the Door's "People Are Strange" is faithful to the original you'll just have to download this joint to find out.

A. 32 Views of Emma
B1. People Are Strange
B2. (Such a) Fragile Thing 

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We're just two deep space lovers and this feels alright...

From 2012. Breezy, chilled-out synth pop my ears haven't been able to let go of for the past few weeks.  In a nod to the album title, this is one "variant" you'll crave being infected with.

**Please do not reveal artist in comments!**

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Regular Guys - Jayhawk Pop (rec. 1979-1981)

I have a feeling this one is going to be available as a limited engagement folks, so don't sleep.  The label responsible for this reissue, Hyped to Death was behind the wonderful Teenline compilations which I've made available on here for quite sometime.  Unfortunately, H2D's website is down, indefinitely it would appear, and I'm unable to determine if the Regular Guys Jayhawk Pop is still available to purchase. 

Though it may not have been a deliberate gesture on their part, rarely has a moniker so aptly summed up a band's m.o. Regular Guys were a turn-of-the-decade Lawrence, KS contingent who played power-pop inclined rock 'n roll, pretty much straight down the middle, with no oblique angles or artsy proclivities. Perhaps a tad too non-descript on some levels, they played a linear but potent game not unlike their midwest contemporaries Off Broadway (USA), Secrets and Hawks.  

During their lifespan they managed to eke out a remarkably memorable 1980 ep, It's a Secret, but it wasn't until 20+ years later that the full extent of their recordings were made available to the world at large.  Jayhawk Pop, commences with the four cuts from It's a Secret, and for it's plentiful remainder the compilation, traces the history of a slightly different permutation of the Guys, with Dave Stuckey replacing original guitarist/mouthpiece Mark Gilman.  And it's not all straight-up power pop either, as the Regular Guys explored related tangents such as proto-punk, roots rock, and less obviously Americana. The booklet, which I've scanned in, provides a more thorough backgrounder on the band than I ever could, and there are generous track-by-track liner notes to boot from bassist John Odell.  So dig in. The full track list is to your left.

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And when he can't speak from too much wine, you're always there with his line...

I was just reminded that it's the 25th anniversary of this one. This double album didn't merely introduce the world to a new band, but a full fledged collective to boot - one that paid dividends for a good decade or so. 

**Please do not reveal artist in comments!**

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Plain Characters - Invisible Yearnings (1981, Abstract)

There probably isn't much I can tell you about these avant, UK post-punkers, or more specifically frontman Colin Lloyd-Tucker, than what's been conveniently disclosed on Nothin' Sez Somethin', wherein you can explore the arch of the man's entire career.  Plain Characters, who were responsible for this LP and some surrounding singles, were not the least bit plain as their ironic namesake suggests. At this stage in his career Tucker's timbre sat somewhere between Peter Murphy (albeit with more warble) and a less melodically inclined Bowie. Not a great selling point to start off with, and much of Invisible Yearnings exudes enough abrasive gestures to ward off all but the most adventurous of eardrums. The songs do bear structure however, with each of it's ten cuts possessing a relatively unique persona (or multiples thereof). Contrary to Nothin's assessment of this one, there are more than just a couple of memorable tunes here.  The aforementioned site's mention of the rhythm-prone "Menial Tasks" being amongst the more memorable ones is indeed worth singling out, suggesting what Duran Duran would have in store on their first two records.  Although the vast majority of Yearning isn't linear new wave, the mild melodic undercurrents that float "Not For Resale No. 2," "Counting Sheep" and the irresistibly percussive "O" make this an album worth tuning in for, even if it means lifting the needle now and again to bypass some of Tucker's more grating, experimental forays.  As for the rather beaten up sleeve, I resisted the temptation to make it more presentable in Photoshop, but the vinyl itself was thankfully in relatively flawless state. 

01. Affair 19.10.80
02. Labyrinth
03. Not For Resale No. 2
04. Zero Zero
05. Fingerprint City
06. O
07. Menial Tasks
08. Julia
09. Counting Sheep
10. The Four Lies

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Mercy Rule - demo (199?)

To paraphrase my friend's description of the amount of quality alt-rock to peruse in the early/mid '90s, the pool was flooded. Utterly in fact. Beyond the ubiquity of what was assailing (and sometimes delighting) us from the Pacific Northwest, there were other excellent regional scenes in locales ranging from San Diego to Dallas and Boston more than worthy of our attention.  Add to that tons of substantive American indie rock/pop from virtually every speck of the map. Indies like Amphetamine Reptile, Dischord, Teen Beat, Sub Pop, C/Z, Big Deal, and Caroline to name some of the more renown ones were all peaking during this epoch. Dream pop/shoegaze from both sides of the pond was a veritable banquet all to itself, and lets not get started on the pros/cons of Britpop. Lincoln, NE's Mercy Rule, were among hundreds of commendable 'fringe' acts jockeying for attention in the Clinton-era, that were passed over by well-intentioned listeners (myself included) who were utterly overwhelmed with all of the aforementioned and then some.

Mercy Rule were a female-fronted power trio who were ostensibly ingratiated into the post-hardcore/emo circuit, of which their one-time home label Caulfield Records were stalwart purveyors of.  Thing is, Mercy Rule didn't necessarily fit in with that contingent, and sonically their recordings were plenty emblematic of that.  Albeit plenty guitar-driven and angsty, they angled more in the vicinity of contemporaries Tsunami and the Poster Children - a pretty good place to be, unless you were making a break for the mainstream.  Nonetheless, by 1994, Mercy Rule had escalated to the roster of Relativity Records for their second and most successful LP Providence.  Three years later MCA had intentions of releasing the band's third full-length, eventually pulling the rug out from under them before it even made it to the pressing plant. What I'm sharing today is presumably the trio's first demo tape, in all it's rough hewn and borderline over-modulated glory.  Several songs here made it to their first EP, 100 MPH, though I couldn't tell you if the versions are the same.  A fairly concise roundup of the band's tenure can be read here, and two of the members folded into a subsequent combo Domestica. 

01. Someone Else
02. How it Feels
03. I Have Enough
04. Stand on Fire
05. It's Sad
06. What a Life

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Things are looking up, Shirley’s looking down.

From 1989. The third album from this Minneapolis bunch, just not who you're probably thinking of.

**Please do not reveal artist in comments!**

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The Zimmermen - Way Too Casual (1989, Mushroom)

So it's been awhile since I revisited this Melbourne export - about thirteen years in fact since I shared a digitized version of the Zimmermen's 1986 debut Rivers of Corn.  One website (linked above) went so far as to describe them as "country rock," but to my ears Rivers... sonic aplomb lent itself more appropriately to the indie pop spectrum. Anyway, three years between albums can be a lifetime in the realm of a rock band and the Zimmermen, while still sounding familiar on Way Too Casual had adopted a more pedestrian bent. Not full blown hard rock or even Americana mind you, yet they were angling toward a tauter and more linear modus operandi.  ...Casual bears plenty of confident and driving rockers: "What Really Hurts," "Moral Obligation" and "Makes No Difference," all of which emanate varying shades of anthemic incisiveness.  These chaps were traditionalist as could be when it came to churning out ballads, with "All the Boys Need Love" and "Corsican Dreams" conveying themselves as all too ordinary, yet still listenable.  All told, Way Too Casual clocks in a solid, earnest day at the office.  

Unfortunately there's a small scratch on my copy of this record, affecting the beginning of "Shaking Hands" for one or two rotations, so pardon the 'jump' about ten seconds in.

01. What Really Hurts
02. Shaking Hands
03. Saddle Brides
04. All the Boys Need Love
05. Moral Obligation
06. Ties That Bond
07. Makes No Difference
08. Intellectual Dishonesty
09. Waiting
10. Corsican Dreams
11. Forever After

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Speak the new language!

I think I outdid myself in terms of "avant" specimens for this week's Mystery Monday. Surely this 1994 disk is one of the most artistically daring and downright bizarre albums to bear a major label logo. And would you believe the drummer later became an SNL alum and this years Record Store Day ambassador? 

**Please do not reveal artist in comments!**

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Well! Well! Well! - What Life's About 7'' (1986, Big Store)

I said it ten years ago when I shared their first album (...And Rise) and I'll say it again - it's impossible to believe Well! Well! Well! weren't born and bred in the States, based on that record, and this single which I came into possession of even more belatedly. These four gents made music that smacks of what your typical Homestead Records band would amount to if Mitch Easter took them under his wing - though I can't seem to think of any direct comparisons to their contemporaries on either side of the pond.  The clangly, chiming guitar-work is to die for, and the bittersweet edge WWW seemed insistent on incorporating into both songs here (doubly so for "Killing Memories") is icing on an already delectable cake. I definitely need to get my hands on more of their stuff, which is cheap enough from the usual vendors, so long as you're willing to shell out $20 for shipping, but anyway.  Enjoy.

A. What Life's About
B. Killing Memories

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Pounding Serfs - s/t (1989, K)

This strummy, Calvin Johnson-produced quartet gave deference to both electric and acoustic guitars, with the latter winning out in terms of frequency employed on their debut (and finale) LP for the storied K Records imprint.  Seizing on a mid-fidelity sweet spot, the Pounding Serfs were about as "folk" as say, The Walkabouts and Feelies, yet not rambunctiously high strung either (one fine exception surfacing in the slice-of-life tale of mistaken identity "Let Go," wherein the combo kick up some angsty aggression).  Sticking to a plaintive and often topical songwriting formula, the Serfs don't necessarily hit you over the head with too much of anything, save for relentlessly earnest charm, well placed harmonies, and a penchant for warm, raw analogue hues. This is a fine way to spend a half hour.  John Lunsford eventually graduated to The Crabs, and Dale Robinson spilled over to Gravel. 

01. Calling Colleen
02. Let Go
03. Slightly Salted
04. All Day Long
05. Spend Some Time
06. No Big Story
07. She Drove By
08. Big Foot
09. Gravel Road Girl
10. To Go Nowhere

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I tried to wish you away, I'll do more than wishing someday...

My apologies for not posting much of anything last week.  Fatigue really got the best of me. At any rate there's four eps in this weeks bundle. Hopefully one (or more) is just right for you. 

**Please do not reveal artists in comments!**

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Maybe you would like to see the tug of war that goes on inside of me.

Hard to believe it's already the thirtieth anniversary of this one. Absolutely no sophomore slouch here.

**Please do not reveal artist in comments!**

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Notes on new music: Amusment Parks on Fire - An Archaea (2021, EGB Global) & Deadlights - s/t (2021)

Picture this. Christmas party 2006.  A friend who knows I'm a pretty substantial musichead approaches me about what's been rocking my boat lately. A few names surely came to mind, but the only one I distinctly recall telling him was Amusement Parks on Fire, who's Out of the Angeles from earlier that year still had it's tenterhooks in me. He let off a bit of a scoff, bemused by the band's moniker.  Truth be told APOF's name of choice is both a blend of savage iconoclasm and the stuff of over-the-top, grade school fantasy. The defilement and destruction of the ultimate symbol of juvenile hedonism, if you will.  By and large the music produced by this Nottingham combo isn't quite that incendiary or apocalyptic, but since their 2004 inception, APOF have delivered a consistently visceral experience, entailing a voluptuous dose of heady, effects-laden dream pop with the bruising intensity of muscular alt-rock purveyors on our side of the pond, ranging from Hum to the Deftones. By the way, they took some profoundly serious cues from their own contemporaries and countrymen My Vitriol, if that name is of any significance to you. Between 2004-2010 the Parks were on a concussive tear, unfurling a trio of vital albums and twice as many singles and EPs. As the teens rolled around, the Fire had been extinguished, albeit temporarily, until the band reconvened for 2017's "Our Goal to Realise" single and their 2018 follow-up, "All the New Ends," picking up exactly where they left off on 2010's wonderful Road Eyes.  In the intervening years frontman and fulcrum, Michael Feerick kept busy with the similar sounding Young Light, who gave us a primo EP in 2013, and had involvement with a couple of other projects I have yet to acquaint myself with (Red Shoe Diaries and We Show Up on Radar).  Finally, there was Moral Mazes, his collaboration with J. Robbins (Jawbox, Burning Airlines) among other musicians that yielded one of 2020's best singles.   

APOF's much belated fourth full-length, An Archaea just saw the light of day June 25th, and the band's self described "88-month moratorium" is officially in the rear-view. The album's opening salvo, "Old Salt" find Feerick and Co. tenacious as ever, melding consoling vocals to a dynamic backdrop of heaving, distortion soaked chords, inhaling and exhaling at the precisely apropos moments.  "No Fissions'" startlingly dramatic beginning soon settles into the mid-tempo forte they've made their current calling card. "Breakers" is a serrated, dream-gaze stunner that builds to an absolutely divine hook, and "Boom Vang" finally scratches that Loveless itch the band has been stretching for all these years.  An Archaea offers some uncharacteristically "ambient" (for lack of a better word) reprieves in the guise of "Gamma" and the moodier "Diving Bell," while the poppy, piano-steeped title track emanates an innovation altogether unique in the Parks oeuvre.  

Even when this album doesn't consistently ascend to the heights of past triumphs like their 2004 debut single "Venosa." or their aforementioned sophomore masterstroke, Out of the Angeles, An Archaea is utterly representative of APOF's strengths which are still as indigenous and gratifying as ever. You can experience the entire thing on your format of choice (even hot pink vinyl, arriving later this fall) via Bandcamp and the band's store.

When is a Well Wishers album not a Well Wishers album?  To get the definitive skinny on this you'd have to go straight to the source, in this case none other than Jeff Shelton. To save you the effort I'll try to sum it up in a nutshell.  The Well Wishers, is Shelton's musical meat and potatoes proposition of which he's staked his power poppin' reputation on over the course of roughly ten albums and shorter form releases since 2010.  Somewhere in the vicinity of 2012, he had conceived a stash of songs that were slightly more aggressive leaning than the fare he normally relegated to Wishers records (not to mention his like-minded predecessor act the Spinning Jennies). With that, Hot Nun was born, as a new vehicle if you will for his brattier "alter ego."

Additionally, Shelton has always had an affection for Anglophile post-punk (think The Chameleons), not to mention shoegaze.  Over the course of the pandemic, his muse led him to hone an entire album that would extrapolate these tangents that have seemingly been accumulating inside him for decades. With that, a whole 'nother umbrella was opened to corral a new set of raindrops, and Deadlights was established.  There aren't 180 degrees of separation between Deadlights and the Well Wishers, or for that matter 90 or even 45 degrees, but the ten songs populating this album rightfully deserved a neighborhood of their own.  I wouldn't go into this one expecting the kind of woozy, tremolo soaked vistas My Bloody Valentine and Slowdive graced us with three decades past, however the driving and loudly ringing guitar-chitecture informing the distortion addled "Breaking Down," "Come Down Slowly," and "Lazy Eye," exude robust textures and a dense firmament we're not accustom to experiencing from indie-pop's favorite well-wisher, so to speak.  Elsewhere, Deadlights' roar is curtailed into dreamier and lucid sonic swells when the chiming "The Knowing" and "Carefree" infiltrate your earbuds or audio portal of choice.  Shelton's newest endeavor is still ultimately rooted in pop, albeit with a decidedly contemplative subtext...and more effects pedals.  Deadlights is available to have, hold and purchase at Bandcamp and Amazon.

Kill me if I'm sleeping 'round.

This week it's a little spoken of 1998 indie rock platter from a trio that resided in an equally under-the-radar locale, Norway.

**Please do not reveal artist in comments!**

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Bamboo Steamers - (I) Walk Alone 7" (1985, Pajamarama)

Yet Another single Discogs managed to miss (one of these days I'm going to have to become a contributor on there).  The Bamboo Steamers were four New England lads with a correspondence address in Springfield, MA, who on the a-side of what's ostensibly their lone 45 tear it up on the splendid garage-pop rager "(I) Walk Alone," with urges and inclinations not far removed from the likes of the Flamin' Groovies and even the mighty Lime Spiders.  The flip "Mary Carney," subtitled "Oct '69" accurately suggests that it's mining a period-piece vein, in this case, acousti-folk with some mild flamenco seasoning. I was so impressed with the eloquence and wit of their accompanying bio, I went to the effort of scanning it in for you.

Per their FB page (linked above) the Steamers may still be rolling at full boil, with what might have been their first album dropping last year.

A. (I) Walk Alone
B. Mary Carney (Oct, '69)

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I Love Ethyl - s/t (1987, Mad Rover)

Did they?  Did they really love Ethyl that damn much that they not only took that notion and parlayed it into their namesake, but also turned it into one of their song titles?  Or maybe these fellas were simply inspired by a random tattoo or something. Who knows, but all signs point to this trio hailing from Sacramento, CA - and not giving a damn about fitting in with the likes of INXS or other such contemporary chart-toppers.  I Love Ethyl played with a relatively casual gait and were organic in that left-of-the-dial way I so appreciate.  Frontman Jebby K. peels off sweetly echoing guitar lines that don't dominate or saturate so much as they gently imbue on "I Know" and "Beautiful Fascist," suggesting what a mashup of the Comsat Angels and the Red Rockers would have yielded in some alternate universe. A cover of "I Am the Walrus" goes down more pleasantly than you might expect, so much so that I think I prefer it to the original.  The simple, DIY album jacket schematic belies surprising depth that never gets to heady.  BTW, the whole LP was cut live - side one in front of an audience, with the flip side captured in the studio.

01. Real World
02. Primary Concern
03. I Know
04. I Am the Walrus
05. Sound Society
06. I Love Ethyl
07. Beautiful Fascist
08. Haven't Got a Clue

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A brief review: Mumps - Rock & Roll This, Rock & Roll That... (2021, Omnivore), Holsapple & Stamey - Our Back Pages (2021, Omnivore) and The Rubinoos - The CBS Tapes (2021, Yep Roc)

Even if the late Lance Loud had never pitched his hat into the nebulous arena of rock/pop music in the 1970s, his legacy would have still been very much cemented by virtue of his stature in the pioneering 1973 TV serial An American Family.  Though the term "reality television" hadn't been conjured up yet, the short-run, twelve episode program filmed in 1971 and airing two years later honed in on the comings and goings of The Louds, a successful middle class family in Santa Barbara, CA. Unscripted (and if it's to believed, with no financial compensation accorded to the Loud clan) America was introduced to seven perfect  strangers who were a perfectly intact nuclear family when it's first installment aired, and were somewhat fractured by the time the series finale rolled around with the heads of the household Pat and Bill Loud separating, and ultimately divorcing not long after the film crew had packed it's last tripod.  The prime-time show garnered as many as ten million sets of eyeballs, and although the majority of the "cast" went back to living their quiet, private lives one of Pat and Bill's kids, Lance inadvertently parlayed his profile on An American Family into cult iconography, due in no small part to him fronting the New York City art/glam rock quintet, Mumps circa the Carter-era.  Rock & Roll This, Rock & Roll That - Best Case Scenario, You've Got Mumps, is the most recent compilation of the band's relatively sparse body of work, and makes a compelling case for Loud & Co.

Despite American Family's popularity during it's initial (and for better or worse, only) airing in '73, the show is rarely talked about these days (with the latest blip on the radar occurring earlier this year with the death of the aforementioned matriarch, Pat). It hasn't been in syndication since, nor has it been offered up on DVD or streaming services, and at best, even YouTube has archived merely a few tightly bite-sized minutes of the program. I haven't viewed so much as one entire episode myself, however American Family's most noted moment came when Lance came-out to his father Bill in one of the later installments.  Keep in mind, this all transpired in the early seventies.  In what little video I've taken in of AAF, Lance did boast something of a flamboyant persona, vaguely suggesting an interest in the arts and theater, eventually leading him to the Big Apple where at one point he ingratiated himself in Andy Warhol's inner circle.  Mumps were actually born out of a larger contingent of players, simply dubbed Loud, containing as the moniker might suggest some of his siblings, specifically sisters Delilah and Michele on backing vocals. By 1975 the group was pared down to a more succinct five-piece, with keyboardist Kristian Hoffman serving as the combo's predominant songwriter.  Mumps were legendary fixtures at CBGB's with Lance playing the role of a very extroverted and animated frontman, often working himself into such a sweaty frenzy that the first front rows of onlookers couldn't help getting saturated in some of his...uh...stuff.  

Despite their venue of choice the Mumps were not akin to the Ramones, or even the Stooges or Heartbreakers. In fact, their proto-punk bona fides didn't emanate as much as aggression as the New York Dolls or T. Rex, two of the band's closest sonic counterparts. They wielded a mild theatrical and sardonic bent for certain, but beyond their magnetic stage presence they were fortunate enough to fall back on memorable songs...of which there was something of a deficit of.  Save for two independent singles released in 1977 and '78 the band had little else to boost their profile, save for gigs in New York and the occasional tour.  And it wasn't for lack of ambition or effort. Mumps had the competency and potential to be if not outright stars, they easily possessed the chops to hold down a deal with say an imprint like Sire Records.  The cold hard truth is that at the time major labels weren't willing to gamble on openly gay artists, regardless of their capabilities (e.g. Freddie Mercury was still very much in the closet during the '70s and most of the '80s for a legit reason).  

If the band's sound wasn't necessarily advanced or cutting edge, the arrangements themselves were sophisticated, wherein warm reverb had plenty of space to waft around in.  The Curators of Rock & Roll This... were wise to designate some of the Mumps most nascent material (predominantly recordings from 1975/76) as "bonus " tracks, as they weren't up to the caliber of the singles and demo recordings, they committed to tape in the late '70s. And while everything on this compilation is certainly listenable, it's easy to discern what's dated and what isn't.  As for the Mumps creme de la creme, there are dazzling single sides in the form of the taught, power pop-tinted "Crocodile Tears," and "That Fatal Charm," the latter exuding a hint of New York Dolls-y savoir faire. "Muscleboys" a Lance Loud-penned piece, busts out an even glammier stride, with the topic of it's title leaving little to the imagination.  A bevy of outtakes from Mumps creative peak, including "Did You Get the Girl," "Just Look Don't Touch" and the pure-pop delight "Anyone But You," should have all found their appropriate slots on the group's first proper studio album, that alas never transpired. There's sheer gold to be had here, but given Mumps fleeting time in the studio those nuggets were preciously limited.  

In fairness Rock & Roll This... is the third attempt to compile Mumps recorded output, and for better or worse we aren't provided any visual evidence, as the DVD that was bundled with 2005's How I Saved the World collection didn't make the migration here.  Still, we get virtually every single one of the band's recorded highlights, and this set features a couple of exclusive songs from the rambunctious pre-Mumps outfit Loud, who I mentioned in one of my earlier paragraphs. Rock & Roll This... can be purchased directly from Omnivore or Amazon. 

In 2005 fans of the dB's were treated to a full brown reunion of the NYC-by-way-of North Carolina quartet for the first time in some twenty-plus years with all original members present and accounted for: Chris Stamey, Peter Holsapple, Will Rigby and Gene Holder, if only for handful of shows. 2012 saw the reconstituted college-rock pioneers releasing their fifth album, Falling Off the Sky, their first collective recording venture since 1981's Repercussion.  While the lineup for Falling... mirrored Repercussion (and the dB's debut, Stands for Decibels, also an '81 effort) thirty years had nevertheless passed.  Well received as that reunion disk was, it didn't quite exude the band's indigenous, jangly hot mess of yore.  With such a substantial layover it wasn't a surprise so much as a mild letdown.  

It should be noted that there was a dB's respite or sorts in all those intervening years. Under their own names, Stamey and Holsapple collaborated for 1991's Mavericks.  Well, what do you know but another three decades flew by and the duo in question worked up a nostalgic Jones in the most delightful way possible, with the self-explanatory dubbed Our Back Pages.  No this isn't some slapped together retrospective of old dB's standards, rather a fresh acoustic reinterpretation thereof...and then some.

The dB's halycon era arguably stems from 1978 single "(I Thought) You Wanted to Know," up until the aforementioned Repercussion LP.  Two more albums followed with a Stamey-less incarnation of the band, specifically 1984's excellent Like This, and The Sound of Music following three years later. Needless to say Our Back Pages emphasizes the era when the dB's were still composed of the Stamey/Holsapple nucleus. Early masterstrokes "Black and White," "Happenstance," "Nothing is Wrong" and "Dynamite" all make the setlist here, in lucid, stripped-down readings that only an acoustic motif could reveal. There's more from the Stands For.../Repercussion tenure as well, but I don't want to extol any more spoilers. Our protagonists revive a couple of the choicest cuts The Sound of Music Had to offer, namely "Molly Says" and "Today Could Be the Day," plus "Depth of Field," a tune from Stamey's early solo venture, It's a Wonderful Life. "Picture Sleeve" is a much more recent piece, plucked from the dB's 2011 Record Store Day single, and another post-Stamey cut shows up as well, "Darby Hall" circa Like This', which functions splendidly in a more economic context.  All versions herein are exclusive to Our Back Pages, and is not to be passed over by aficionados of any era of the dB's. The vinyl variant of this album was yet another RSD exclusive, and CDs and downloads are ripe for purchasing over at Omnivore and Amazon.

Four guys walk into...a recording studio.  And not just any studio, rather one owned by CBS.  Those "guys," The Rubinoos, were on the cusp of etching their baby steps in the then newly excised granite slab most of us refer to as "power pop."  Here's the scene: November 3rd, 1976 - the day before the foursome in question were about to get down to the brass tacks of recording their 1977 self-titled debut.  Before their work began in earnest they decided to use that particular date in November (just a day after Jimmy Carter's election win, per Tommy Dunbar's liner notes) to get a feel for the studio - and ostensibly get some rambunctiousness out of their systems. Eleven songs were cut to tape in a seemingly random, freewheeling session, all of which hadn't seen the light of day until this year as The CBS Tapes.  As Dunbar puts it:

Imagine that someone followed you around with a camera for an hour in high school and showed you the film 40 years later.  That's what it's like listening to this tape we made in 1976.

And pre-tell what did that particular reel capture?  Well, just a bunch of coming-of-age miscreants busting out a deluge of (mostly) covers - "Heartbeat It's a Lovebeat," "I Want to Hold Your Hand," "She Loves You," "Sugar Sugar," and "Walk Don't Run." among others.  To their credit they up the credibility ante with an unorthodox reading of Jonathan Richman's "Government Center." We're also treated to a couple of originals that ironically didn't make The Rubinoos album - the catchy "All Excited," plus the ragged and lovingly loose "I Want Her So Bad."  The studio banter is chockablock with vulgarities (as occasionally are the lyrics).  They demonstrate competence in the studio, albeit having no shortage of cheeky fun in the process, but in the grand scheme of things, The CBS Tapes is predominantly just that - good frivolous fun.  Die hard Rubinoos acolytes will appreciate this audio snapshot in time, yet it's in no way, shape or form a pivotal artifact, not to mention it's an inadequate jumping off point for the unacquainted.  Don't shy away if you're an established fan, but if you're a Rubinoos neophyte, stick to their first two albums, 1983's Party of Two ep, and if you can locate it, the excellent Basement Tapes outtakes collection.  The CBS Tapes is available from Yep Roc Records as we speak.

"I'm on my own, home all alone." So I got off the phone.

From 1982. Far from the weakest link in their chain of good-to-excellent albums, it is however a bit of a guilty pleasure.  To this day I cringe at the song that employs mechanized vocals, but the other ten are easily keepers. Enjoy

**Please do not reveal artist in comments!**

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Angst - Cry for Happy (1988, SST)

So I've belatedly come to post the only Angst album I haven't shared previously.  Fittingly it's the last album in their catalog, and I think it was the only one to be made available on CD.  Like most, if not all of their SST brethren, Angst weren't necessarily going for accessibility, yet Cry For Happy did boast a host of tunes that could have at the very least crossed over to the upper echelons of college radio playlists - "Time to Understand," "The Weather's Fine," and "She's Mine."  All three of the aforementioned operated within the parameters of say, the Feelies or perhaps the Dream Syndicate had that outfit opted for a more casual modus operandi.  There's a few anomalies wafting around this half hour of power, but nothing radical - maybe a little ZZ Top riff-worship on "Lonesome Heart" and "Meine Frau's" relentless blasts of trumpets that don't do much to augment Angst's otherwise humble shtick.  Overall, another nice record by this decades-long bygone troupe. 

01. Time to Understand
02. The Weather's Fine
03. Only Fools
04. Meine Frau
05. Motherless Child
06. I Could Never Change Your Mind
07. Leaving's Been Easy
08. She's Mine
09. Long Road
10. Lonesome Heart
11. My Dinner With Debbie
12. untitled

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