RECORDS

RECORDS

(The following is printed as an artifact; thus, this qualifies as caveat emptor. Mr. Weberman is a prime example of the level some people can sink to in their own self-serving, ego-maniacal, obsessional... yes, Self Portraits.

Remember the Bizarro World of the Superman Comics? This review is, undoubtedly, the bizarro equivalent of whatever its author pretends to be. Beyond the factual errors, symptoms of a madness so vile it drives one to the depths of despair, the review is simply the reductio ad absurdum of everything that responsible journalism in the alternative culture represents.

But the factual errors should be cleared up; it’s obvious that Dylan, for example, didn’t write “The Boxer” but not so obvious, especially since Weberman has used the old technique of contextual removal, that Country Joe’s “Hey Bobby” is really written about Bobby Hutton, the first slain Black Panther. What this says about A.J. Weberman’s racim is obvious, as obvious as is his obsession with being spectator to whatever he thinks Bob Dylan’s doing. The innuendos, (e.g. “so-called motorcycle accident”) are hopefully so apparent that they need not be discussed.

The revulsion that this tripe induces may, indeed, be part of Dylan’s reason for deserting us. On the other hand, nothing excuses Dylan’s mediocrities either. This is printed as artifact, not as justification.

As for A.J. Weberman, we dropped out of college because of shit like this. — The Editors)

BOB DYLAN - SELF PORTRAIT

by A.J. Weberman, Dylanologist

Bob Dylan’s Self Pottrait is a drag indeed. Dylans cover painting, which looks like it was fingerpainted by a child because of the large brushstrokes bears no resemblance*/^ Bob, although I must admit, it is symbolic. Dig how one eye is closed and the other is opened just enough to reveal a very small pupil. This is symbolic of the ‘current bag’ Dylan is now into — a bag whose nature is so controversial I can only imply what it is in this review. But dig what Country Joe and The Fish say about it in their song to, Dylan titled “Hey Bobby”. “Hey Bobby, where you been/Missed you out on the streets (missed you at demonstrations) Hear you got another scene/Called a retreat... I’m sick and tired of hearing your Kes/Takes nothing less than truth/7o get me high ”.

Except for “Days of 49” and the old stuff Bob did at the Isle of Wight, the music and lyrics on this album remind of Ginsberg’s statement that “(He’s) seen the best minds of his generation destroyed by madness” since there has been a definite decline in Dylan’s creativity from the time he was involved in that so-called motorcycle accident (right after which he entered his current bag) to the present.

Dylan’s choice of other writers songs on this album is probably the most interesting aspect of the whole sordid mess since the ironic meaning of -their lyrics make sense when looked at in the context of the symbolic network Dylan has already constructed. Bob paved the way for this new genre of poetry by using a lot of traditional pop music phrasing in the poetry on Nashville Skyline. He has also introduced a few new metaphors in Self Portrait — such as gold — which help the other writers’ songs to make sense in terms of Dylan’s symbolism. For example, take this verse of “Take A Message To Mary” — “Take a message to Mary/But don’t tell her all you know” (Whenever Dylan uses a female noun or pronoun he is generally referring to his female fans — “Just Like A Woman” for example — so in this line Dylan is saying roughly — ‘I want to communicate with the teenagers but I can’t tell them where my current bag is at’) “My heart is achin’ for Mary/Lord knows I miss her so” (in “One More Night”, another poem ‘addressed’ to Dylan’s screaming teeriaged fans he wrote — “Oh I miss my darling so/I didn’t mean to let her go” — so Dylan misses his folk-rock fans) “Just tell her that I went to Timbucktoo” (this is Dylan’s ‘town’ — ‘state of mind’ metaphor found in many of his post-accident poems. E.g. in “Ballad of Easy Rider” Dylan asks ‘the important component of his new bag’ to take him to another, more euphoric, state of mind — “Take me to some other town” and in “Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here With You” he claims that he should have left his melancholic state of mind earlier in life

— “I should have left this town this morning”. So in this line Bob asks some hypothetical person to tell the teenagers that he’s gone to another state of mind) “Just tell her I’m searching for gold” (‘gold’ — a new Dylan metaphor — symbolizes that ‘important component in Dylan’s current bag’. In “Days of 49” he described his current bag as “those good old golden days” and in “Alberta” he says that if you get into his bag and have a lot of money you can “Have more gold than your apron (your mind) can hold” and finally in “Blue Moon” Dylan sings — “My moon has turned to gold” — from “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight” I’m hip that ‘moon’ is one of Dylan’s metaphors for his poetry since he writes — “That big fat moon is gonna shine like a spoon”

— Dylan’s poetry is gonna reflect his current bag) “You can tell her to find someone else^ to cherish and to hold” (tell her to find another rock star to idolize) “Oh Lord this cell is cold” (in “Drifter’s Escape” and in “Little Sadie” Dylan compares his current bag to being imprisoned).

Many of the other non-Dylan songs on this album are affirmations of Dylan’s new bag being where it’s at although “The Boxer”, by Paul Simon, is written about Dylan, from what Paul thinks should be Dylan’s point of view. In this poem Simon accuses Dylan of “squandering his resistance for a pocketful of mumbles such are promises” — in other words Dylan has stopped fighting Amerikan Fascism in return for some of that ‘important component of his new bag’. And it’s the livin’ truth. Dylan has become a rightist. In “To Be Alone With You” he writes — “Everything is always right when I’m alone with you” (Dylan is a rightist as long as he is getting that important component of his new bag). In “Tell Me It Isn’t True” he accuses those Dylanologists who are trying to “reshape him in the image of someone they used to know” — Dylan the radical poet — or blowing the present Dylan’s cool by defining him as a radical poet — “It hurts me all over/It doesn’t seem right”, In “Little Sadie” he writes — “The judge had the papers in his right hand” — the establishment made it so that if Dylan wanted any of that important component he would have to adopt a rightist worldview — ‘hand’ is ‘worldview’ from many other contexts.

DYLAN IS AN EVIL GENIUS. In this record he has developed a whole new genre of poetry — poetry via Context. But to what end? He seems to be telling us, thru his secret language, that his current bag is where it’s at. But he’d have to be completely insane to believe that the world would be a

better place if everyone got into it. WHO’S HE TRYING TO CONVINCE?

I really miss Dylan the radical topical songwriter and Dylan the radical poet. Although very few people know what Dylan-the-radical-poet was protesting about, it was still pretty obvious from songs like “Desolation Row” and “Subterranean Homesick Blues”, that he was dissatisfied with something. But the new Dylan & non-Dylan songs are, generally, all very low keyed on their superficial level while their ironic level isn’t even remotely political.

I see only one hopeful thing about this record — it came out about a year and a half after Nashville Skyline (which came out about a year after John Wesley Harding). Perhaps the next Dylan record will come out in 2 years, etc. and Dylan is bowing out of the scene. Unless he throws it all away — gets out of his current bag — that is the hippest thing he can do.

In a word, the music on this record is generally cornball, the words are generally a drag on a superficial and ironic level and you’d be better off savin’ your fuckin money than buying this record. And this comes from a Dylanologist who’s been studying Bob’s poetry for 4 years. WHAT A FUCKIN DRAG.

and besides that...

BOB DYLAN - SELF PORTRAIT -COLUMBIA

Let me admit, first of all, that Lam, or at least I was, one of the biggest Bob Dylan puds in this part of the country. For a period of months I listened to “Desolation Row” each night before going to bed. I drove my friends crazy by singing “Spanish Harlem Incident” non-stop for three days. I saw “Don’t Look Back” six times. I owe more comfort and insight to the brittle honesty of Bob Dylan than I can calculate.

I was therefore elated to hear that Dylan had recorded “Like A Rolling Stone”, ‘The Mighty Quinn”, and “She Belongs To Me” on his latest release: Self Portrait. I though that perhaps the re-recording of these classics of “old Dylan” marked a return from the disappointment of John Wesley Harding and the foolishness of Nashville Skyline. The first cut on side one extinguished these hopes.

The album is trash. Nowhere can I find words which would capture the reality of how bad this album is. It has no redeeming qualities. Dylan’s lyrics are stupid, banal, inane, disjointed caricatures of Burt Bacharach’s more tawdry work. His phrasing, which was once devastatingly effective, is now senseless and inept. His harp work is nothing but irritating filler. His arrangements, which used to be sparse and arresting, are now crammed with unnerving choruses of breathless sopranos that sound like refugees from Ray Conniff. Inappropriate violins crop up everywhere, and nasal Nashville guitars drone in platitudes of musical vulgarity. Self-Portrait is bad beyond all description.

Initially there is the cover painting. It is a Dylan self portrait in oil. It is the work of a simpleton, or a blind three-year-old quadraplegic with epilepsy. The cover is the first clue to the nonsense with it contains. If this Self Portrait album is the work of the same man who composed “Visions of Johanna” he must, by now, have utter contempt for himself.

The opening cut on side one, “All The Tired Horses”, does not even feature Dylan. A chorus of female voices chant the words, “All the tired horses in the sun/How’m I gonna get any writin’ done?” with orchestral accompaniment for over three whole minutes. Listeners who are used to solid Dylan lyrics will look up and stare at each other with puzzled expressions. Why has he done this? This song is worse than bad, it’s meaningless. There is no reason for its existence.

But this is not enough for him, he goes on. One song stumbles after another and none of them are any good at all.

“Alberta No. 1” is interesting because he returns to his old whiskey voice in sections of it. It is followed by “I forgot more than you’ll ever know”. The title is intriguing and one can only guess what he could have done with it four years ago. The song, as it turns out, is not Dylan’s, but was written by someone named Null, which is appropriate. It is the first of several C&W shitkickers which were chosen, evidently, for their lack of taste and meaning.

On the same side are “Days of 49” and “Early Morning Rain”. The first is probably the most listenable piece on the album, that is to say the least offensive. As for “Early Morning Rain”, Dylan had better keep looking over his shoulder. Because Gordon Lightfoot must be out in the darkness with an ax waiting for his chance to get even with Dylan. And if he does to Dylan what Dylan did to his song, the coroner will have to examine the victim’s chromosomes to determine what sex it was.

So it goes all the way through all four sides. There are two versions of “Little Sadie”, each worse than the other. Nameless ditties like “Blue Moon” and “Let It Be Me” plunge things still further into idiocy and vulgarity, and what he does to Paul Simon’s “The Boxer” even Simon does not deserve.

The final and most painful aspect of the whole fiasco is the treatment Dylan gives to his own songs. “Like a Rolling Stone” and “She Belongs to Me” were recorded at the Isle of Wight and the sound quality is bad. It is a pity that the sound was not worse, if it were we might have been spared these monstrosities. He has apparently lost the ability to interpret his own songs. While singing them and “The Mighty Quinn” he howls in his pinched-nose Nashville Skyline voice which sounds like Patty Duke doing a bad imitation of Bing Crosby. He phrases the words as if they were in a foreign language and he has no idea what they mean.

The one bright spot is the backing the Band gives him on these three cuts. They, at least, are together and collectively into the music.

I do not know why Dylan has done this thing. At one time he was a composer and lyricist of the highest order. Is it possible that this talent suddenly vanished? Did his brains evaporate right out of his skull?

Self-Portrait could not be the product of laziness because he went to the trouble or recording two full records of this garbage. He might be just playing out his option with Columbia. Or this might be his way of giving everyone the finger. Perhaps he actually was killed in that motorcycle accident and this is the work of an imposter which Columbia dug up to save it’s investment.

With that conjecture I will cease to speculate and cease to be a Bob Dylan pud.

Doug Keirdorf

GINGER BAKER’S AIR FORCE -GINGER BAKER’S AIR FORCE -ATCO SD2-703

AIR FORCE: A REVIEW IN SECTIONS, complete with visual aids.

This article comes to you as a public service.

Section 1: Introduction

Ginger Baker is present on the album.

Section 2: First Digression

For some, Ginger Baker’s presence on the album will justify Air Force — fine and dandy — roll on mighty Mississippi.

Well, let’s put it this way, the album would not be the same without the renowned Mr. Baker. Air Force would be non-existent were it not for Baker’s persistance in gathering old buddies, talented people and assorted persons of ill-repute. Perhaps, due to this fact, Baker does not choose to place himself in the limelight, for a change. But this is not to say that the record is not a fine example of Baker’s talent or lack thereof (point of view; I hold the latter opinion). It is.

Section 3: Second Digression (already?)

Ginger Baker has amassed, with Air Force, the largest conglomerate of greater and lesser stars to date, (see CHART NO. 1)

It is worthy to note that ever since Cream (of which Baker was an integral part) super-duper groups have been plagued, to some extent, by ego problems. An indication as to whether or not Air Force is plagued by this sort of problem would be that one must buy a set of two records, which is given over to a great deal of soloing.

CHART NUMBER ONE SUPERSTARS

Ginger Baker Steve Winwood Chris Wood

MERE STARS

Denny Laine Harold McNair Graham Bond

APPEARANCES OUT OF THIN AIR

Phil Seamen (yep)

Remi Kabaka Jeanette Jacobs

(Ric Grech fits somewhere in the nebolous area between SUPERSTARS and APPEARANCES OUT OF THIN AIR)

Now then, soloing and solos in general are all well and fine, but this business of the back-up to the solo finding one riff and repeating it interminably is a bit ridiculous. I like to listen to a record without thinking that I have to move the needle because it’s stuck.

Well, rumor has it that Air Force has disbanded. Well, well.

Section 2a: The Child Is Just Going Through A Phase (A Restatement)

Well, rumour has it that Forced Air — or rather Air Farce (that should read AIR FORCE) — has disbanded. That’s O.K.

Section 3: Max Sharp and His Magic Phallic-Yonic Night Dream Fantasies.

That Man is Sick.

It becomes obvious Max Sharp is another friend and old pal of Ginger Baker’s. He simply can’t play an instrument. So, instead, we are subjected to his mediocrity as an artist, rather than his mediocrity as a musician, as is generally the case of this album. You don’t have to look far for Max’s work, it is on the cover and the liner.

On the cover, nine naked men are visible. Their testicles are not visible — this seems to be an indication of something.

Section 4: Production in general.

If you are looking for a well done “live” album, try Live Dead or The Who Live At Leeds. Air Force rots. Section 5: Check That Man’s Feet; He Appears to be Four-Toad.

Some day some one will have the courage to walk up to Ginger Baker and explain that TOAD is a little, fourlegged creature which croaks, hops, and causes warts (if you believe).

Another thought for Mr. Baker: Most people take care of masturbation in private.

Section 6: (Huh: Sequential Review? Whaaaaat?)

The Hell with it.

Section 7: Merely An Inflection of the Rules.

Of course, Air Force can be taken for the joke that it is and you can play the records at 45 rpm (it improves Air Force 100%). And if that fails, you

have a pair of expensive and relatively dangerous frisbees.

Section 8: Conclusion

Caveat Emptor.

Joshua Schrier

GETTING TO THIS - BLODWYN PIG - A & M SP 4243

First, a little background. This will serve two purposes; (a) to tell you something you most likely already know, and (b) which is more important, to show off my incredible fund of knowledge in this sort of thing.

In the beginning, there was Jethro Tull. There was also Ian Anderson and Mike Abrahams, who had different ideas on how many leaders one group should have. Hence came the inevitable split, and where we once had one good band, we now have two. After an incredible first album, Jethro Tull has

stagnated somewhat into being an Ian Anderson showcase pop group, whereas Abraham’s Blodwyn Pig has gone more into the heavy jazz-rock stylings where Anderson has feared to tread, sort of.

Many of you may only know Blodwyn Pig by the cover of their first album, (a pig in shades,'earphones et al). An incredible album, and a worthy successor to Tull’s “This Was”. Blodwyn Pig’s second album is more of the same, with a few surprises to boot.

Side One opens with an Abrahams composition entitled “Drive Me”, which, although a little too reminiscent of “It’s Only Love” on the first album, nevertheless sets the mood for the rest of the side. The second cut, “Variations on Nainos”, features a fine Jack Lancaster flute solo, (sort of an Ian Anderson thing, but without the asthmatic inhalation at the end of each run).

There are three more offerings on this side, all fairly predictable if you, like I, have played the first album more than 3000 times. But the thing that impresses me is the incredible tightness, (for want of a better word). Lots of sound, but none of it wasted, nothing superfluous. It’s an incredibly driving sound. If they could somehow put their energy into bottles, no one would ever die of old age again.

Side two starts with a Jack Lancaster showcase entitled “San Francisco Sketches’’. This is sub-divided into four little sections, each featuring Lancaster. It starts with a haunting, (or at least as “haunting” as Blodwyn Pig can get), flute thing, and then moves into some tenor and soprano sax offerings. From here it goes into a sort of a Moody Blues-ish choral bit, and then into a finale. An Andy Pyle (bassist) number is next, and then another Abraham number, “Toys”. This is a very odd number in that it sounds like it might have been written by Anderson for the Benefit album. Nice enough, but it doesn’t have the drive most Pig offerings do.

Now a word on the cover. On the front there is a cartoon of the group playing to a bunch of freaks, bikers, and skinheads. Open the cover, and we find veritable treasuretrove of inanities. And hey, look at those little black and white pictures in the background. I mean, jeez,, you can see everything. A lot of nice little pig drawings too. Turn the cover over, and we find a somewhat more serious posed photo of the group (suitable for framing).

Odd, because the last song on the album is in a serious vein, too. It’s a driving rocker, but listen to the lyrics of “Send Your Son To Die”. Somehow I never figured Blodwyn Pig for political comment, but there it is anyway.

If you thought Crimson and Clover and/or Bridge Over Troubled Water were true religious experiences, then this album is probably not for you. Or if you’re into Pharoah Sanders because its the hip thing to do, you could have fun putting down this album for its “pretentious jazz stylings”. On the other hand, if you like Rock because it moves your emotions and makes you want to slap your knees or dance or do Joe Cocker imitation, try Getting Into This.

Al Niester

THE BEATLES FEATURING TONY SHERIDAN - IN THE BEGINNING (CIRCA I960) - POLYDOR 24-4504

With dollar signs gleaming in their eyes and the pages of their bankbook blowing in the wind, Polydor records has re-packaged and re-released some of the Beatles’ earliest material. In The Beginning (Circa 1960) is a compilation of twelve selections — eight of which feature the work of the original Beatles. This early work is represented mostly in the form of backing a British rock singer named Tony Sheridan.

This LP has previously appeared as the initial Polydor recording which was made in Germany in ’61 (SLPHM 237 632) and as an MGM release which was issued here in the United States back in ’64 (SE-4215).

Polydor’s latest effort, however, is' certainly the most elaborate presentation the album has yet received. While the first two releases of this record were issued in simple dust jackets that bore no pictures, this 'newly packaged offering opens up into a double cover and gives us a variety of photos showing the Beatles during their black leather jacket period in Hamhurg. The back cover of the album quotes George Harrison saying things like, “ ... we got very tight as a band wn Hamburg . . .”. The inside album jacket provides extensive liner notes by Tony Sheridan — (these same liner notes were also available on the two previous releases). It’s interesting to note that there are no pictures of Sheridan to be found anywhere, though.

Despite all these extras, Polydor still felt it necessary to print a disclaimer on the back of the album:

The release of this album is justified by the enormous influence the Beatles have had on contemporary pop music. Many record collectors will be curious about their earliest recording dates, others will find this album a bummer. In any event, here is an album that takes its place alongside the large body of Beatles recordings.

Taking the album at the time it was recorded in 1961 (the heyday of Paul Anka, Frankie Avalon and Connie Francis), I consider the album to be far from a bummer.

As a factual document, the album has only one point of contention. Tony Sheridan’s liner notes state that all five original Beatles are heard on the record: John Lennon, George Harrison, Paul McCartney, Pete Best and Stuart Sutcliffe. This statement directly contradicts Hunter Davies, writer of the Beatles authorized biography, who says in his book that Stuart Sutcliffe had left the group to marry Astrid Kichener (friend of Klaus Voorman) and become an art student again at the Art College in Hamburg.

Sutcliffe had been playing bass guitar with the group but, it was generally recognized that his musicianship left much to be desired. Whether he was on this LP or not, is of relatively little importance; Stu Sutcliffe died of a brain hemorrhage a year later (April, 1962) in Hamburg. He is remembered by most as a James Dean type figure — moody and sullen. > ; ;;

Nevertheless, for the genuine Beatle freak, this album is a must. The first two cuts oil side one*: are the Beatles, all by themselves. Try and dig good old John (“A Day In The Life”) Lennon wailing out the lead vocal on “Ain’t She Sweet”. John’s vocal is harsh and raw, with noticeable shades of Elvis and Buddy Holly. Next, we have what very well might be the first musical composition to be published or recorded by any of the Beatles. The second cut is an instrumental called “Cry For A Shadow”, written by John Lennon and George Harrison and published by Roosevelt Music Co., Inc. (BMI). It’s a suprisingly well written and performed tune, with strong guitar work from all the boys. Pete Best’s drumming establishes what, in effect, later became known as the “Mersey Beat” in music. This early instrumental style of the Beatles is pure Ventures in its sound. In fact, the melody line in “Cry For A Shadow” bears a striking

resemblance to the Ventures hit recording of “Perfidia”. In any event, “Cry For A Shadow” stands up as a good piece of contemporary rock from the early sixties.

The now famous recording of “My Bonnie” (which first brought the Beatles to the attention of Brian Epstein) is included in this LP. Tony Sheridan sings lead and the Beatles prove that they were a powerful hard-rock band back in those Hamburg days.

The remaining five tracks on which the Beatles back up Tony Sheridan are: “Take Out Some Insurance On Me, Baby” — in which Sheridan does an (almost) perfect Presley impression while, the Beatles lay down a good, mellow R & B background; “Sweet Georgia Brown” — where Sheridan refers to Liverpool and the Beatles in the lyric; “The Saints (When The Saints Go Marching In)” - in which Sheridan does a Jerry Lee Lewis impersonation straight through, from beginning to end. He even takes the song down low and brings it up loud again (a la Jerry Lee’s “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On”); “Why” - a really good song, composed by Sheridan. It gives him another chance to show off his remarkably Presley-like delivery while the Beatles provide some excellent vocal harmony and soft-rock musical backing; and “Nobody’s Child” — which makes it clear that Tony Sheridan’s biggest obstacle to success was that he really did sound like other people. If you weren’t aware of the fact, you’d swear this was Elvis doing one of those slow, tear-jerking ballads. The Beatles furnish a smooth and gentle backdrop that gives depth to Sheridan’s vocal.

In short, the Beatles contribution to this album is small but good. Still, calling it a Beatles album is stretching the truth to far out proportions. This is, basically, a Tony Sheridan album that just happens to feature the Beatles (although the title would have you believe otherwise). The four cuts that don’t use the Beatles, give us a group called the Beat Brothers as a back up for Tony Sheridan. This group distinguishes itself by the use of saxophone and organ. The Beat Brothers back Sheridan on: “Let’s Dance” — another fine song, penned by Sheridan. It was made popular in the states by Chris Montez; “What’d I Say” — the Ray Charles classic; “Ruby Baby” — a direct copy of Dion’s old version; and a seemingly “live” recording of Lee Dorsey’s “Ya Ya” which, if we are to go by Sheridan’s liner notes, was probably recorded at the Top Ten Club in Hamburg. Anyway, the Beat Brothers were apparently Sheridan’s regular back-up group:

Polydor will, no doubt, make money on this record and there is no reason it shouldn’t. The dedicated Beatle nut will buy it for the new packaging alone. Yet, those who are sincerely interested in the development of rock in the early sixties will also find this Bert Kaempfert produced LP to be of significant value.

Mike Monahan