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Salient. Victoria University Student Newspaper. Vol 35 no. 10. 24 May 1972

Record Reviews

page 12

Record Reviews

The Velvet Underground and Nico.

1965, Andy Warhol found himself a rock group and put them into The Exploding Plastic Inevitable (the first rock show with music, films, lights and audience in one overwhelming total environment). The group was Velvet Underground and they came right from Warhol's N.Y. underworld of hard drugs, sexual perversion (?) and a concern with death and violence that they lived and played. Their first L.P. was released in March 1967, and it's been released for us again on Verve label.

The record dawns with the easy lyricism of 'Sunday Morning', but the easy peacefulness of the music is counterpointed by an insistent warning: 'Watch out! The world's behind you!' The world soon catches up and breaks into the heavies that make up the rest of the album. 'I'm Waiting for My Man' is a guy waiting for his pickup. The insistent throbbing powerhouse of sound rides on behind the incredible, flat voice of Lou Reed. The lyrics of 'Venus in Furs' are concerned with pure sado-masochism . . . . and the music beneath is strained, and real mean. Possible the best track is 'Heroin' No bullshitting with double-meanings here:

'Cos it makes me feel like I'm a man
when I put a spike into my vein.'
'Heroin will be the death of me.
Heroin - it's my wife and it's my life.'

The music is brilliant, and helluva powerful in its effect A continual hypnotic drone on electric viola (John Cale) with the sound slowly building into high waves of sound, that fall again into irresolution until the final build-up to the psychosis of screaming feedback. Man, its really strong.

The electric viola becomes a death's-head in 'The Black Angels' Death Song', screaming as if Durers apocalyptic horsemen were riding through the sky. This song is black and mean, and it does evoke His Satanic Majesty.

The last track is 'European Son' which is 7 minutes of mind-exploding frenzy. As with the whole record, you have to listen to it Full Volume. It's hard, its heavy, and to quote one critic: 'It's not for the kiddies!' Nico is the superstar-blonde-bombshell-neo-Marlene-Dietrich-out-of-Mary-Travers who sang with the group during their E.P.I. tours. She sings two tracks on this L.P., but she just didn't catch me.

My only objection is to the cover. Somehow an inappropriate cover has a habit of getting in the way of the music. This one is too straight! and plastic and neat white borders. Apparently the first sleeve was a large Warhol banana.

Wish I'd heard this back in '67. It was helluva progressive and God! it's good music.

— Rex Halliday

Gas Mask — Their First Album

There are two things about Gas Mask - their first album which' tempt prejudice, - firstly, it is one of a large group of records recently released on the same label: many of the artists recorded are relatively unknown. Secondly, the cover blurb includes micro-biographies of each of the eight group members which read as so much pretentious crap. Perhaps if the record company hadn't economised on the original fold-out cover, which tied up the blurb with individual photographs, it wouldn't have been so bad.

A lot of people have a deep down liking for the "big band" sound — there's something about the driving horn backing which has been generating excitement since Glen Miller. Gas Mask, an American group, aspires to the B.S.&T. — Chicago category of music which is wide open for exploitation at the moment.

The two instrumental tracks, composed by leader (on sax) and arranger David Gross contribute the jazzy side of the record — The Immigrant features Enrico Rava on trumpet, both muted and straight, with good scope for his improvisation, although this becomes a little excessive and almost grating at times. Ray Brooks provides a nice bass line which is consistently good.

Bobby Osborne is the vocalist on eight tracks which are composed by keyboardman Nick Oliva. Light the Road really moves: a crisp balance between percussion and horns provides a solid backing for the punchy vocals. Osborne's voice is quite variable - Just Like That, a slow moody number, is B.S.&T. all over again, even down to the Clayton-Thomas style. All the same, it's good listening. An intriguing fast cross-rhythm on Nothing to do Today features some tight drumming by James Strassburg co-ordinating with Brook's bass.

The track which is probably most typical of the group's sound and ability is Young Man — this would give the best indication of the overall quality to the casual listener.

Much of the record is backgroundy but competent, as expected from the session experience which most of the group's members have had. However, the occasional flashes of brilliance make it worth a listen.

— Alan Hughes

Pigmy — Keith Christmas

Third album from Keith Christmas but the first to be released here. Quite a well-known singer in England, he belongs to a group of people (called September Productions) whose main function is to run around the country as supporting acts for the bigger groups (—he was "discovered" touring with Jethro Tull about two years ago).

There is one track from Pigmy on a conglomerate album hopefully entitled Hot Rock, released by Polygram as a sampler — however, how the hell they figured Keith Christmas to be in the same category (or class) as Mountain etc. remains a mystery.

Pigmy is interesting in one respect (dare I say one?), in that side one is entirely acoustic folk/rock, while on side two he is backed by (among others) Rod Argent on organ/piano, and Calvin Samuels on bass (remember Stephen Stills?).

If you used to dig the Matthews Southern Comfort and are now grooving to Ian Matthews, this album is very similar in style and sound to If you could see through my eyes. It has no recurrent theme other than a mild rejection or inferiority complex, perhaps implied by the title. Between tracks he says "I'm going to sing a blues song" and giggles — I wince — technician sounds of "Rolling take one" — Christmas camping up "Take one? You must be joking"

— I weep.

And there you have it. This type of record must of needs rely to get going on above average lyrics, or that the artist himself be out of the ordinary. But, the lyrics are pleasant and ordinary (like this review), the music and singing not-outstanding. And that's that.

— Grant Mazengarb

Photo of Andy Warhol

Andy Warhol

The Doors — Other Voices.

Jim Morrison died of an overdose of publicity, ego trips, touring and contract pressures, all the ways the Pop Machine eats people, that finally drove the one-time Lizard King into seclusion in Paris and a middle class heart attack in his bath at the age of 27. The Doors image was built on Menace, using pop as psychodrama, music as catharsis (c'mon break on through to the other side) they came on as the original existential death-rock band, all creepy and surreal, with Morrison up front as the black leather masochistic fantasy singing about sex as death, love as a funeral pyre and (in Moonlight Drive) about going down to the beach with his girl for a little suicide by the seaside. Typically when other people were going to San Francisco to put flowers in their hair the Doors were suggesting (The End) that time liberation meant fucking and killing your old Mum. The whole thing was aimed at the sort of people who groove on Bosch paintings and Sylvia Plath's poetry. You know, sort of a California version of Jagger's satanic pretentions

After one perfect album it all fell apart, the whole gottendamering bit turned into self parody and the group began playing to younger and younger audiences. But during their climb to the bottom the Doors as musicians got better and better, something that shows through even on songs as wretched as "Riders on the Storm." On this, their first LP since Morrison died they play magnificently; Krieger is one of the most tasteful, lyrical guitarists in rock and his singing is surprisingly good. But the material is still awful. No matter how well the band plays they can't do very much with this bag of hackneyed tunes and lyrics that contain the same old pseudo paradoxical quasi mystical jive:

'Now you're on your own
But we're by your side
But you're all alone
And you're going home
Like a rolling stone
Just like Brian Jones' etc etc..

The Doors are still a good band, don't give up on them yet, with the right material they'll be as big again as well .... say Badfinger.

— Gordon Campbell