A Very Hospitals Christmas

After listening to a few sides of Blind Lemon Jefferson while stoking some logs, I wasn't quite sure what to reach for next until my eyes happened to rest upon the tropical photograph adorning The Hospitals' Hairdryer Peace. It doesn't look as if the picture was taken in Hawaii, although possibly it might have be a picture of part of a TV screen in a hotel room in Hawaii that happened to be showing Mister Roberts or maybe just an episode of Fantasy Island. In any event, it is a modern classic freak's Christmas LP, and not just because it sounds like the Cherry Blossoms doing their crudest boombox version of the Department Store Santas' At the Medieval Castle album.

If you listen closely, you can hear sleigh bells being crushed under reindeer's hooves, double-tracked with digital delay. And something that smells vaguely like burnt ginger bread. It's really all there. If you've ever looked peeked between the blinds at a sky full of clouds and fixed upon one that looked a little bit like both Mick Jagger and Lou Reed, then you will understand how a few moments of this LP feels to the mind. Between those moments is the inside of the pyramid and the tampon magnet at the bottom of a gas station wastebasket. Not so different from a typical Christmas with one's closest fifty relatives.

Ethan at Dusted wrote

Adam Stonehouse, Chris Gunn, Rob Enbom and Rod Meyer spit out one of the most damagingly psychedelic records ever set to wax. Shitstorm noise, cracked folk and rocket fueled punk all running into and on top of each other. Is this a joke? I certainly hope not.

It may not be a joke, but it's more fun than Herb Alpert's Christmas album by a long shot. I'm thinking it has New Years Eve potential, too.

While I'm mentioning other bloggers out there, I'll comment on two things I read recently. First, Doug Mosurock in his year-end reference to the Tommy Jay reissue:

Thankfully, lo-fi is running its course, and the better participants of that mess (Times New Viking, Women, Pink Reason) are doing what they can to keep the good separated from the multitudes of bad.

I agree with everything except the bit about "lo-fi is running its course". As long as "lo fi" includes distortion and other "recording artefacts", then lo-fi will never "run its course." Besides, prior to the Pink Reason, Women and TNK records, there were multitudes of (admittedly far less intelligent and worthy) critics and commenters who had buried "lo-fi" for good, dumped their Siltbreeze vinyl, and invested in CD releases on Rune Grammaphon. Seriously, I can only imagine the bullshit that Doug has to wade through. But as long as miracles like Robert Martin's Long Goodbye LP keep turning up, I'm not hoping that music of any fidelity has "run its course."

And then there was the shock of the year earlier this week when I stumbled upon this in Larry Dolman's essential Blogstitude:

Two or three completely separate times this year I've come across someone saying that "Pink Frost" by The Chills is a great song. I took note, of course, but I've always been more of a post-Xpressway NZ head and ended up never hearing the band or song until today

Say wha ..??!?!!?!??! Larry is a person whom I've never met but, thanks to the miracles of the Internets, has turned me onto some good shit. Like a lot of my favorite music writers, I feel that I can trust him because he digs (for good reason) some of the same shit that I dig, i.e., the Velvets, Fahey, the Sun City Girls and (without shame) good old Grateful Dead. So it was beyond imagining that a cultivated, erudite chap like Larry could not have heard or appreciated The Chills Pink Frost -- almost inarguably the greatest A side of any seven inch to come out of New Zealand ever -- until just this month. Frankly, I'm envious of Larry because as I recall it was a lot of fun listening to that record hundreds of times over the past fifteen years and memorizing every freaking note.

There is a lesson here: keep turning people on to good shit, whatever the fuck it is. My next post will be dedicated to Larry, in that spirit.

Henson Was a Freak

As times goes by, the importance of imprinting at an early age becomes more obvious:

No Hype

I saw that my music lover brother Will is hawking a copy of Robert Valente's NO HYPE album at the usual place where buyers should always be wary (unless you're buying from Will, that is). This LP is more than excellent, in my opinion. Here's what I wrote about it earlier this summer when I parted with a spare:

Chris Deden (consumate Simon Joyner bandmate) turned me onto this obscure rarity quite a few years ago and it immediately became one of my favorite records. Time has been very kind and while a whole boatload of previously admired sounds has eroded into worthless piffle before my eyes, this album has just grown mightier in my eyes. Valente stums an electric guitar and, in his haunting voice – lying somewhere between Jandek, Neil Young, and Will Oldham – he sings a variety of existential songs that alternate between sparse two chord dirges and more folky pop numbers. To my ears, the sound is more like early 70s LA coffeehouse folk than anything that could have come out of Iowa City in 1979 … but then there was that Units LP out of Houston around the same time …

There is a strong vibe of redemption running through the record that may turn off those who are prefer their angst unadulterated with references to well-known belief systems. The Jesus dude is name-dropped, e.g., “High School” (“Sittin’ in this high school/ wishing that I was stoned/ everyday this is crazy/ feelin’ I want to go home’/ won’t you come on back/ mr. jesus/ won’t you come on back/ right now”) and “Chain Gang” (“A rollin’ out on a chain gang/ a rollin’ on a chain gang/ I killed that woman I went insane/ rollin’ I’ve got this heavy chain/ I’m callin on jesus/ lord they drove me insane”).

Valente is still working and making CDs. I can confidently say that, other than his instantly recognizable voice, none of his contemporary releases sound anything like his far more austere and dark debut album. When there are so many (nearly all?) dubious Christian rock or “outsider” reissues being peddler these days, it’s a travesty that this album has been virtually ignored since its release nearly 30 years ago. So here’s a fairly spiffy original copy. If you like the sort of music that I like, my advice is to jump on this one. And yes I’m aware of the obvious irony.