ROCK • A • RAMA

ROCK-ARAMA

This month's Rock-a-ramas were written by Joe Fembacher, Michael Davis, Robot A. Hull, Jeffrey Morgan, Richard C. Walls, and Richard Riegel.

KING CRIMSON—Earthbound (Polydor/ Import)::This steamy bit of juvenilia from the "original" 20th Century Schizoid Men was recorded on a small cassette player and set adrift into the Sargasso Seas of "who cares anyway?" Well, I do, goober brains. Why? 'Cause these mahatmas of decibel strappado had the early on savvy to hunker down and glom the internal beauty of NOISE, before the world went Pfttt! and the goblins of rhythm had their way with it ALL. The "live" version of "Schizoid Man" is monumental, frightening and without a doubt the harbinger of a sonic evolution that's just lurking on the otherside of last week. J.F.

JEBADIAH—Rock 'N' Soul (Epic)::Ever notice how many of the perpetrators of these disco atrocities don't even have the guts to own up to what they do? For instance, on this thumpthump thrashing of six Stones tunes (that's right, the Stones), you gotta check the fine print on the back to discover Jerry Love and Michael Zager, credited as producer and arranger. Just thought I'd bring up their names in order to curb any political ambitions they might have. M.D.

ARLYN GALE—Back To The Midwest Night (ABC)::Ignivomous street death masques find a home on the range, where they don't even have fuckin' sidewalks yet. How anyone can take this goulie of Springsteen, Seger and the Doors seriously and still not wonder whatever happened to Gene Autrey and Delmore Schwartz's extremely hard-to-get bootleg (pressed in pre-industrial Revolution cow-chip, and happily titled, When They Invent Air Conditioning, Who'll Need Rudolph) is beyond me, but then again there's a lot of things beyond itie. Why I like this record is beyond me. This is obviously what all those ex-hippie trilobites should be pumping into their nitrous caked veins instead of all that Springsteen yawnoiogy. Nobody should write about the streets, they should clean 'em. I like this gink 'cause he's definitely off the tundra... J.F.

KAPTAIN KOOL AND THE KONGS (Epic)::Ironically, the release of Kool & Kongs' debut LP has been timed just after the cancellation of their series. Those innocent plaidniks, the Bay City Rollers, have now usurped the Kongs' role in the Krofft concept of wienie rock. Sometimes a TV band can stay successful within the confines of the medium—the Hudson Bros, are still wreaking havoc on Bonkers! and the Wombles (in celebration of the Banana Splits' demise) are always dancing with Capt. Kangaroo. But I'm afraid that the Kongs will soon (if not already) be forgotten like the Kids from C.A.P.E.R., ersatz Monkees, or Lancelot Link and the Evolution Revolution, real monkeys. R.A.H.

HELLFIELD (Epic):: You'd think that anybody stupid enough to write lyrics like, "Rock 'n' roll survival, it's getting tough in Feedback City/ And down on Bowie Boulevard/Mutants of the evening lurk in the dark, working hard" in 1979 would be an A-1 candidate to be called an asshole, right? Well, Mitch Hellfield, come on down. J.M.

MARVIN "HANNIBAL" PETERSONHannibal In Antibes (Inner City)::Trumpeter Peterson's quintet (cello replacing piano), recorded at the '77 Antibes Jazz Festival, plays two extended pieces with most of the solo space going to Peterson, whose long sinewy lines and extended rush of purposeful notes allow the listener to participate in an almost hypnotic musical communion. Also featured is George Adams' post-Trane tenor—he's one of the few players who's managed to absorb Albert Ayler's iconoclastic approach into his own personal vocabulary. Hot. R.G.W.

FORTUNE (Warner Bros.)::This album is more BIZARRE and PERVERTED than anything the punks've managed to dream up so far, all you one-hand listeners will be glad to know. The nucleus of this group is a veritable me'nage a trois: twin sisters, with one of 'em married to the guy (please, no jokes about how does he know which twin he's diddling in the dark, etc.), all of 'em Mr. or Miss Something-Or-Other runners-up in past years, in recognition of their ravishing American beauty (said beauty not being readily apparent to the untrained eye, however). The music (oh, God, the music!) is future hag-shock, supercharged disco, as played by the Miss America Pageant Orchestra while Bert Parks is suffering his fatal coronary on camera, sort of Captain & Tennille & their dogs on amphetamines (or something). And I didn't even make it to Side Two, got hung up on the three Fortune kids playing around in their fencing costumes in the centerfold. Go to it!

OREGON-Out Of The Woods (Elektra):* Just because they've signed with Elektra's snoozin' fusion label, it doesn't mean that Oregon's gone funky.. Like many improvising artists these days, they're stressing clarity a bit more than in the past, but basically, they are the same Acoustic eclectics they've always been, conbining folk, classical and jazz mediums in new but natural contexts. Their consistency and stability over time serve as a reminder that mellow needn't be moronic and pastoral needn't be passe. M.D.

R.R.

STARZ—Coliseum Rock (Casablanca):: These pugs speak to the plug like few else can; therein lies the haughty echo of their eventual brilliance and therein lies the brilliance of their haughty longevity. If you need to catch a sneak preview of apocalypse, this is it. The title song is "the" guitar/hook/derango/madness we've all been slobbering for since the vocal hookoliths of the Illusions' "Can You See Her Eyes." This LP answers that age old?, who's behind the door, the lady or the POWERCORD? A prelibation for the future; soundtrack muzak for the bunker 'n' radiate set; cattle-prod rock; and a constant source of nuclear amusement. Check it out, before the world checks out....

J.F.