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A Little Mind Distraction: The Mooney Suzuki

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The Mooney Suzuki

Empty Bottle, Chicago, IL, April 1, 2002

If FUCK! Is the greatest and best word in the language of rock and roll, then YEAH! Is undoubtedly riding shotgun. Monday night, the Mooney Suzuki got enough mileage out of the affirmation to re-write rock and roll history. (For at least a little while).

I feel alright!

YEAH! YEAH!

I feel alright now!

YEAH! YEAH!

Dressed as they were like spies from K.A.O.S., I half expected to see Agent 99 doing the swim in the back of the club. As Suzuki ringleader Sammy James, Jr pinwheeled like Pete Townshend, squalls of Technicolor distortion peeled out of Graham Tyler’s vintage rig, and for 45 nonstop, pogo’ing minutes, New York City’s Mooney Suzuki made rock and roll fun again. Handclaps. Goofy stage moves. Tributes to the electric guitar. All present and accounted for. At one point, after another in a jackhammering series of rave-up rockers had ground to a halt, it seemed like maybe — maybe — everyone in the club was having too much of a gas, shouting out choruses and returning Tyler’s upraised “#1!” salute. Then James asked how many rockers had been at the Suzuki’s Chicago appearance the previous year, and negative thoughts were trampled by 200 upraised fists.

ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?!

On Monday night at the Bottle, every punchline in the Garage Rock Jokebook was torn out, wadded up, flattened out, and re-taped into the book as a brand new laugh. 35-year-old riffs sounded like, well, 35 years ago. I think I left the gig with every song on Nuggets stuck in my head at once. It’s the classic story. The tenets of rock and roll — balls, soul, rhythm, blues, and melody — are reconstituted by a band with the right amount of chemistry, chops, and looks. They tour. Hard. And when they get to your town, they make those Hanna-Barbera, “We’re the Way-Outs, WAY-OUTS!” riffs and yelps sound like gold to you. Yeah, it’s been done before, blah blah blah. But if acting like a Rocker — and backing it up with the goods — is really as fun as the Mooney Suzuki makes it look, it’s not clear to me why anyone at last night’s happening went back to their day jobs this morning.

New York City’s Cavestomp! Festacular is at the eye of a 60s Psychedelia/Garage hurricane. Grease-trap legends like The Standells and The Monks have rocked its stages. Last year, those guys asked the Mooney Suzuki to show up. See, it’s not a tribute. The Suzuki’s riffs are only continuing what “Dirty Water,” “Complication,” and the ascerbic outro to Paul Revere & The Raiders’ “Just Like Me” began. That’s rocking, rolling, Rhythm & Blues music, built out of scrap parts and re-tooled into shiny two-and-a-half minute blasts of melody.

LET’S START A BEAT!

The Mooney Suzuki travel in their time warp on a spaceship called Estrus Records. The Bellingham, WA-based label is like Black Death Vodka or Little Kings, fucking up people the right way for years and years. Its bands — The Mono Men, The Makers, The Immortal Lee County Killers — belong to a rock and roll tradition that sees a purer line between itself and its heroes. Luckily, what many of these rockers lack in originality, they make up for with fury and an open hi-hat. People Get Ready, The Mooney Suzuki’s 2000 debut, appeared on Estrus to tremendous acclaim, and the boys backed it up with a year of straight touring. Bring it to the people, you know. Now, you knew this story had to eventually lead to Detroit. And sure enough, in August of 2001 the band entered Jim Diamond’s Ghetto Recorders in the D to lay down tracks for Electric Sweat (released on the new NYC imprint Gammon). Chances are the Mooney Suzuki’s particular brand of fraggle rock is coming to your town soon. And chances are, its cache of Motor City rocket fuel, NYC swagger, and Garage Rock melody will win over the hearts, minds, and blue suede shoes of the rockers in your town. (For at least for a little while.)

JTL

Articles

Rites of Spring

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Long-time poster and GLONO friend, Helen Wilson, conjures up a little spring fever at Chicago’s beloved Old Town of Folk Music.

Rites of Spring

The power of music and the change of season breathes new life into the dead of winter.

By Helen W. Wilson

I never thought I’d be rockin’ out to Sheryl Crow on a Saturday night, but there I was in a circle of complete strangers belting out “If it makes you happy” and playing a bongo drum. I was at Chicago’s Old Town School of Folk Music All-Night Party.

We arrived around 7:30, in time to catch “Who wants to Be a Music Critic?” – a game show of sorts where local characters, including Pete Margasak and Tim Tuten of the Hideout, battled it out over music trivia, and name-that-tune to Robbie Fulks’ music samples. After laughing our asses off at these music critics stumbling over questions such as “What’s a funeral pyre?” or “Which of the following bands has Kelly Hogan NOT played in?” and me forming a crush on Pete Margasak, we headed upstairs to check out the rest of the party.

On the elevator, we were serenaded by live singers doing their version of cheesy elevator music. The all-night party was a sort of progressive where guests moved between small, often crowded rooms and participated in the singing and playing of music ranging from country/western, to bluegrass, to American roots, to pop. Our favorite room included a pile of percussion instruments in the center of the floor, where you could grab a shaker, a drum, or a pair of wooden sticks and join in. The themes in this room rotated every two hours, and included “Cat, Van, and Paul” (Stevens, Morrison, and Simon), “Carly and Carole” (Simon and King), and “Rockin’ Babes” featuring songs from Liz Phair, PJ Harvey, Concrete Blonde, and the Pretenders among others. In other rooms, we sang along to the music of Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, Prince, Elvis and Madonna, Neil Young, and Abba. A room in the basement featured an all-night “Beatles Ensemble” where hits from the Fab Four were played from 6pm to 6am. We also joined a drum circle where I got lost in the rhythms until my hands were raw.

Throughout the hallways of the school, people hung out drinking beers from cans, or forming their own informal circles of guitars, banjos, whatever. Around 2am, we wandered into the main auditorium and found EE (Environmental Encroachment) on the stage. I’m not sure if this ensemble plays other venues or just came together for the night, but they were about 12 musicians dressed as bunny rabbits, Easter baskets, etc., emanating a hypnotic fusion of drums, horns, guitars.

A bunch of us got up and danced at the front of the stage – at this point I had beaten drums, sang “Joey” at the top of my lungs, and I was not above letting loose to this freakishly wonderful music. It was completely surreal – on stage one guy was playing the drums in a rabbit mask, and another guy in a tall pointy red velvet hat was simultaneously playing a trumpet and a trombone. And the rest of us were flailing our arms and swinging our hips to the sounds. This Alice in Wonderland-esque scene could have been a really good acid trip, yet I had hardly had two beers all night. It was at this moment I realized that I hadn’t felt this completely un-self-conscious in a long time.

I can’t sing, I’ve never played the drums, and I’m a mediocre dancer, but none of that mattered. I’m used to seeing live shows where I’m the spectator and someone else is performing, but Saturday I experienced music in a completely different way. No one was performing, and the songs didn’t belong to anyone in the room. The music was suddenly stripped of much of what I usually associate with it, and I was able to shed my usually critical perspective; Tori Amos and Tom Waits were all the same. It was about experiencing music rather than performing, listening to, or evaluating it. And the whole event was refreshingly unpretentious and un-“scene”-like. There were kids, old people, musicians and music appreciators of all levels, ages, demographics, shapes and sizes. It was a truly exhilarating and cathartic experience.

This season is about celebration and rejuvenation of life, about cleansing the soul, out with the old, on with the new. From the symbolism of a bunny rabbit bearing colored eggs and fuzzy new chicks, to the Christian mythology of Christ rising from the dead, to the Greek Dionysian rites of spring, this time is about shedding the baggage of the past year and purging the spirit in preparation for a new life cycle. The utterly raw experience of music, shared primarily with strangers, brought to awareness the vitality and spontaneity of life that is so often lost in the stresses of daily existence. Some people go to church on Easter Sunday, but this was exactly the kind of religious experience I needed.

– Helen W. Wilson

Articles

Drive, She Said

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In our on-going quest to keep you advised of the intersection between commerce and music, we have discovered the following. But first a bit of back-story is required.

The Ka in question is a small car from Ford that’s available in the European market, a car that some U.S. auto writers rhapsodize about and pine for in a domestic driveway. The Ka is comparatively compact; it would be nothing more than a blip in the rearview mirror of the sport utes that rule the roads on this side of the Atlantic.

The Kylie in question is Kylie Minogue, an Australian pop sweet tart who is popular in her homeland as well as in Europe; she received an award for being the “Best Selling Australian Artist” at the recent World Music Awards. Kylie is comparatively invisible in the U.S.; she is nothing more than a blip in the rearview mirror of the likes of Britney, who rule the airwaves on this side of the Atlantic.

The quote comes from Earl Hesterberg, Ford of Europe’s vp for Marketing, Sales, and Service:

“StreetKa and Kylie have a lot in common—they are both small, beautiful and stylish.”

I’ll bet this is exactly what Ms. Minogue is looking for: comparison to a car. Kylie, a former soap opera actress, plays off of her curves in a way that even vehicles designed by Pininfarina can only make weak gestures toward. I suppose that what would be more disturbing to her would be if she was being sponsored by the purveyor of major home appliances; while there is a certain intrinsic sexuality related to some vehicles, the notion of a side-by-side refrigerator just doesn’t have the same resonance (e.g., they are both white, straight and resistant to fingerprints).

(StreetKa is one of the sponsors of her Euro tour. Hesterberg observed, “Kylie is universally popular, especially so with young single people who are resistant to more traditional avenues of marketing communication.” That sentence is resistant to semiotic analysis.)

Articles

THE HITS JUST KEEP ON COMIN’!

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Glorious Noise Continues to Diligently Track the Course of Pop Music

Johnny Loftus

Everyone – except for maybe Jonathan Davis – knows Nu Metal is so close to buying the farm, the realtor is calling to negotiate closing fees. Sure, Creed is going strong. And Linkin Park’s {Hybrid Theory} was the best-selling album of 2001. But these standouts don’t represent the vitality of the genre as a whole. Creed is a glorified (no pun intended) sports bar power trio whose sonic trailer park vibe would appeal to Camaro-driving weight lifters in any era of music, Nu Metal or not. And Linkin Park is already distancing itself from its Nu Metal packaging, as LP MC Mike Shinoda can be found rapping on the new X-Ecutioners record and branching into side projects. Remove the success of these types, and Nu Metal’s hurting. It’s no wonder. After all, you can only rage against the machine for so long. Shit, Rage Against The Machine isn’t even raging against the machine anymore. So where does that leave a bunch of dirt-asses like Puddle of Mudd? Likely wallowing in their much-maligned name choice as they take your drive-thru order.

In the last few months, thanks to the inevitably cyclical nature of pop music (not to mention a serious commitment from M2), a diversified group of bands have been giving Nu Metal a swirly in the back of the visitors’ locker room. The Strokes, The White Stripes, Gorillaz, Jimmy Eat World, Ben Kweller, Starsailor, Black Rebel Motorcyle Club, and most recently Clinic have all weighed in as heavyweights in this new group of artists, who can only be compared to the eclectic early 90’s heyday of MTV’s 120 Minutes. Like a smarter, stripped-down version of Perry Farrell’s visionary Lollapalooza tours of yore, genuinely diverse acts with actual talent have begun a slow-burn takeover of American popular music. Though markets and tastes are completely different in the two countries, it can be said that the UK embraced this trend first. Many of the bands above – English or not – have enjoyed monstrous UK success over the past couple of years. And now, just like downloadable ring tones, America is finally catching up to what Europe has known about since before Wes Borland left Limp Bizkit: musical variety is where it’s at, chum.

The question is, what will happen next? If you recall the backlash to Nirvana, thousands of committed, talented bands were embraced by the Big Five, only to be cornholed, kicked to the curb, or worse. Now, the industry hasn’t changed. They still rip out spines on a daily basis. But two things may separate this latest wave of rockers from their forebears: the Internet, and hindsight. The former has readjusted the tenets of the DIY aesthetic, re-wiring the punk ethos into a multifunctioning mixture of marketing savvy, low-cost, broad-based communication, and of course technology. Hindsight feeds dot com DIYism. A band like Jimmy Eat World, established on their own before the majors ever came calling, has the ability to leverage their established market into a creatively beneficial (and maybe more lucrative) contract. What would the average alternative rockers have to offer an A & R guy in 1994 besides a few crusty flannels and a soundman named Pisser? The White Stripes are another example. Already having worked successfully within the independent culture, their growing domestic success is just gravy. There’s nothing wrong with appearing on Conan or having a single on the Billboard 200. Of course not. Jack and Meg White’s music deserves to be heard. But don’t think for a second that those two are letting an industry hack with big shoes walk all over them. It’s their hindsight – and one foot buried in the indie rock community – that will save them from a major label flame out when tastes change again in 1 or 2 years.

But in the meantime, why not enjoy it? Us AND them. If M2 is the new 120 Minutes, and I can hear Del Tha Funky Homosapien rapping with Damon Albarn as I wash my hands in the restroom at Hot n’ Now, then things are getting a little better. Sooner or later, a real rain’ll come and wash all the filth off the streets. But until then, why not revel in the irony of hearing “Fell In Love With A Girl” booming out a jeep?

JTL

Articles

Close Encounters of the Punk Kind

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We here at Glorious Noise sometimes get criticized for being a little too male-focused. It’s a sad state of affairs to realize we’re not alone in this respect. So when our special guest contributor from New York City, Kristy Eldredge, sends something our way, we get very excited about it. And not just because she’s not a guy. She’s a great fucking writer with a lot of passion, and that’s what we’re all about.

In her latest feature, Kristy raises the question of what to do when you come face to face with one of your heroes. Have you had a similar experience? Check out her article and then let us know!

Continue reading Close Encounters of the Punk Kind →

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Music By the Numbers

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EMI Group announces that it will eliminate about 20% of its staff. There is a frisson of demiexcitement in the indie community as a transient feeling of “I told you so emerges.” Then the realization sets in that the 20% of the 9,400 employees who will be given their walking papers are probably individuals who are not of the corner-office variety, just regular folks who are going to be thinking long and hard about putting down $18.95 or so for a Lenny Kravitz disc. Meanwhile, the suits—who undoubtedly dress in a more calculated déclassé manner befitting of the rockdom that they inhabit—continue on in their positions. Oh, yes, and some 400 acts will also be unsupported, or have their legs cut out from under them. You can be confident that these people will not be getting the Mariah Carey treatment. Most of them will probably get dunning notices from the accounting offices of Capitol, Virgin, and other EMI labels.

Does this shaking of the manufacturer whose products sell at a level that makes it the fifth-largest recording company in the U.S. indicate that there is a real threat to Big Business by small labels and Internet downloading? Probably not. Rather, it is simply the same sort of thing that is happening throughout corporations, whether they’re manufacturers of cars or copying machines. Companies are looking for the ways and means to bolster their stock prices, and one way of doing that is by dumping what many of them refer to as their “most valuable asset”: their people. In the case of EMI, the debulking, according to EMI Recorded Music CEO Alain Levy, should save the firm $140 million a year by 2004; margins, he calculates, should be up to 13% by 2005, from an anticipated 5.1% this year. You’d think that people who run businesses would come to the recognition that what makes a company make money is great product, not the elimination of people. (Certainly, if there is waste in the organization, then it should be worked out of the system. But muda-busting alone will not be the solution for success.)

Interestingly, what helped the outfit make its nut in late 2000/early 2001 was the release of an album by a non-existent group: The Beatles. Its 1., which was simply the repackaging of music that had already been, in effect, bought and paid for at an earlier time, sold exceedingly solidly. Not even the guys at Enron could pull off a feat like that.

When announcing the cuts to a group of stock analysts, Levy is reported to have stated, “Not having star power tends to take the margins out of the music and makes it a commodity.”

Sure, and having a diminished roster of performers so that’s what is likely to be left is nothing more than brand-name acts (i.e., “star power”) is to do something other than to create commodities that will sell in greater volumes. One thing it will do, certainly: Make the stock analysts happy.

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BABY GOT BACKWARDS

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One man’s tribute to Kris Kross

Atlanta, 1991. Fledgling rappers Chris Kelly and Chris Smith are shopping for Cross Colours at their local mall, when a chance encounter with producer Jermaine Dupri – himself a relative novice at 19 – leads the two teenagers into a new world of stardom and uncomfortable pants…

Under the guidance of Dupri, Smith and Kelly became “Daddy Mack” and “Mack Daddy” – the teenaged Hip Hop duo known as Kris Kross. “Jump”, their debut single, tore up the Billboard charts, eventually spending eight-plus weeks at number one. “Jump” was certainly infectious. Its Jackson 5 sample and hooky flow suggested the anthemic party groove of Naughty By Nature’s best work, but still possessed the gimmick of two kids rocking the mic. And then there were the clothes. Jerseys, jeans, necklaces, even shoes – all worn backwards. Pop music had seen its share of gimmicks – This was the era of Biz Markie and Digital Underground, after all – but the backwards threads gag was one of the best yet.

Kris Kross capitalized on “Jump”‘s success with a few followup singles, and Totally Krossed Out sold millions. But its hard to gain a lot of respect when you’re 13 and your pants are on backwards. 1993’s Da Bomb collapsed under the weight of puberty and faltering bravado; recently, Kelly and Smith have been found on Sony Music, still hanging with Dupri and his So So Def crew.

But no matter how old the two Chrises get, we’ll still remember them in cornrows and backwards Mets jerseys. And that’s exactly the memory that aDam Rulz! is committed to preserving. Through his website, aDam has spread his dream of International Kris Kross Day. Derived not so much from the legacy of Kris Kross’ music as from their trend-setting opposite fashion sense, aDam’s wish is for everyone throughout the world to take one day a year and kick it like the Mack Daddy and the Daddy Mack, circa ’91.

I caught up with aDam yesterday evening, as the 7th Annual Kris Kross Day was winding down.

GLONO: How much success have you had in getting the word out about this dynamic holiday?

ADAM RULZ: Getting the word out was never a problem. I blanket my school with flyers. This year’s Internet coverage has been unprecedented though. The problem is that although most people think it’s a good idea, they’re not often actually willing to participate.

Backwards…everything? That could get uncomfortable.

How much is worn backwards is totally up to the participant. I’ve had people who will only flip an undershirt or a pair of underwear to show their support without looking like a fool. It’s understandable that some people are shy and I respect the effort. A truly Krossed Out look, the one that I do every year, includes backwards shirt and pants. Reversed shoes. Socks with the heels at the top. Backwards coat (local weather permitting) and wearing my bag on my front. I’ve never personally done underwear as it chafes but that’s the real extra mile. The shirt isn’t uncomfortable but the pants are. They don’t look it when you wear them straight, but the crotch of pants is made for forward dressing. Backwards pants puts a good deal of pressure on the … private area. It’s a good idea to whip out your loosest pair.

Kris Kross’ debut record, Totally Krossed Out, sold over 4 million copies out of the box, rocketing Chris “Daddy Mack” Smith and Chris “Mack Daddy” Kelly from shopping mall obscurity to concert hall popularity in a matter of weeks. But like so many talented young artists, the duo was unable to truly capitalize on that success, and after two more albums, faded into obscurity. Do you think that whiz-kid producer Jermaine Dupri’s backwards-clothing marketing scheme was a metaphorical critique of the opposite nature of the record business itself, giving so much so soon to two young people, only to yank out the proverbial carpet when their strength as a commodity is exhausted?

That’s the biz I guess. The two were marketed towards kids, although you can tell by listening to “Totally Krossed Out” that they weren’t some pop band. They were really hard core kids. They later tried to do their own thing but didn’t have much success with their more gangsta rap type music, but that didn’t fly. Who can you blame? The kids who bought it not following through? I think they should be happy to have had their 15 minutes. The industry’s crude but it gives people an in. What happens after that is often up to them and the market. But that’s just my opinion and I can hardly read Jermaine Dupris’s mind. If his fad was indeed a critique it was certainly not well appreciated by the people that dawned the style and it’s certainly not the spirit behind the continued yearly revival of the style in the pure at heart.

What can be done to insert ‘WiggitywiggitywiggityWack’ back into the public’s slang consciousness?

As much as possible I hope. I’ve tried to work my own stuff into the public vernacular but tend to fail. I was just thinking earlier today that “WiggitywiggitywiggityWack” should be used in next year’s campaign only I couldn’t imagine how I would even start to spell it. Thanks.

Like Pop music, Hip Hop is cyclical in nature. What’s the chance that wearing clothes backwards will come back into fashion? Dupri is still active; might he opt to bring the trend back?

I certainly hope so. Lots of things come back and an idea as simplistic as wearing your clothes backwards is a possible modification of any outfit. I think that the problem the style currently faces is that it’s still associated with Kris Kross and people would feel more like they’re stepping back then forward by bringing back the fad. I think once kids don’t know about it’s first coming anymore it will be time for a fresh start. They can think they invented the style themselves in their ignorance if it helps things. I won’t be doing anything to distance the idea of dressing backwards from Kris Kross but time may.

Jump! Jump!

JTL

Rock and roll can change your life.