Return Of The Son Of The RateYourMusic Reviews (#5)

(A new installment in my series where I compile some of my reviews posted to RateYourMusic on this blog. These reviews on this post range from 2024 to this year, as it's been a while since I've done one of these.)

Art Guy - Where You Gonna Go / Teenage Millionaire 

With a genre as massive and yet homogenous as 1960s Garage Rock, any band that really manages to get something out of the sound is rightly remembered fondly by modern day enthusiasts (for example, the searing No Friend Of Mine and It's A Cry'n Shame). One song that stands out to me, however, is this one. 

Art Guy was originally the drummer for the surf group New Dimensions, and at the tail end of the 60s would take up the sticks again in the blues group Smokestack Lightnin'. In 1967 however he was encouraged to try a stab at a solo career by Hite and Dorinda Morgan (who were also the Beach Boys' very first producers). Accompanied by them and several musicians from the show Shindig, Guy would hammer out his own self-penned song Where You Gonna Go. 

The song itself, while exhibiting much of the fuzz guitar and low production value traits of regular garage rock, also has infusions of folk added as well, provided through an acoustic guitar and flute accompaniment. Guy's lyrrics paint a picture of a man seemingly shunned and isolated for reasons he is unable to fathom, his life inexplicably on the downturn with no clear path forward. Surprisingly moody subject matter for a track with a pretty soaring guitar solo in the middle, but it just makes the track stand out all the more amidst the deluge of Garage Rock from the time. 

The flip-side, Teenage Millionaire, was written by Dorinda Morgan for Art Guy to record and is much less interesting. Taped at an entirely different session, it's about (predictably) a teenager who rises from nothing to become extremely rich. It wouldn't be so bad, but the production is quite muddy with tons of reverb, and Art Guy simply doesn't put in as powerful a vocal performance. 

Interestingly, despite promo copies being pressed by Valiant Records, the label's folding immediately after meant the song technically never came out at all. It appeared on a few compilations over the years, but it took until 2020 for underground label Hyperloop Records to finally put out an official standalone release (albeit without Teenage Millionaire, possibly due to its lacklustre quality). While even this new reissue is quite rare, the song's quality still rings true half a century later, and helps it rank as one of the best of its day. 

 

The Shaggs - Philosophy of the World 

In an oft-repeated story, the mother of one Austin Wiggin gave her son a palm reading, presenting a series of fortunes that included his daughters would grow up to form a musical group. Upon growing up, the other fortunes that Wiggin was given came true (he married a strawberry-blonde woman and had two sons) and once his daughters came along, he became determined to railroad the final fortune into existence.

He forced his daughters (Dorothy, Betty and Helen, plus occasional involvement from fourth sister Rachel) to begin learning instruments and set them up as a rock band, largely against their own wishes as none of them had any interest in music. He would name them The Shaggs and routinely had them perform at local events to mass ridicule.

By all accounts their father was a controlling and sometimes abusive taskmaster who was determined to mold them into the hitmakers he had been promised by his mother, rarely letting them socialize or do anything except practice. After several years of this, and despite the band still being a laughingstock due to their poor musical ability, Austin decided it was time to take them into the studio “while they were still hot”. The end result has been one of the most confounding records ever released, Philosophy Of The World.

Whatever music lessons Austin Wiggin had given his daughters, it clearly had not stuck as their playing is less than amateurish throughout. Worse yet, he had tasked eldest daughter Dorothy to write a selection of original songs, which made matters worse as she understandably knew very little about songwriting either, so the musical arrangements and lyrics are shambolic and barely coherent. The instruments are quite often played out of tune, the three girls sing with no evident ability, and everything is performed at a slow pace, likely to make it easier for them.

Most evident in this regard is the song “My Pal Foot Foot”, written in tribute to the family cat that was missing a leg. The instruments sound especially discordant, often playing with complete disregard to each other, and the singing only makes things worse. The other songs aren’t much better.

Over the years, this record has gained a cult following among musical enthusiasts (which didn’t come easy, as most of the original copies were stolen by the man Austin paid to press them). Many have described the album as refreshing or have felt that it evokes a charming sort of childlike naivete that’s not often found in music.

I cannot bring myself to agree with that, as this does not feel charming or refreshing. None of the Wiggin sisters sound like they’re having any fun and would rather be doing anything else, only performing on the record to please their father. Even the engineers who recorded the album were able to tell that it was a bad idea, and what becomes clear when listening to it is that none of the sisters had any business playing music (and in fact, if they had their way, they wouldn’t have. It’s telling that after their father’s death in 1975, they immediately dissolved the band and wasted no time in starting their own lives away from his influence).

I find no joy in this record like the liner notes (likely written by the father) suggest, only an empty sadness. Preferably, it shouldn’t have been made at all, and yet it was, ironically fulfilling Austin Wiggin’s fortune in that the Shaggs’ music outlived him and continues to be discussed to this day.

 

Wild Man Fischer - An Evening With Wild Man Fischer 

The life of Larry “Wild Man” Fischer was not a pleasant one. Battling with schizophrenia from an early age, he found himself attempting to make it as a street performer on the Los Angeles Sunset Strip in the late 1960s, singing a variety of self-penned acapella songs for a dime each. It was here that a recently established Frank Zappa found him and was immediately intrigued. Deciding that someone like this ought to be heard by more people, Zappa took Fischer under his wing and assisted him in recording his first album, An Evening with Wild Man Fischer.

What Fischer was likely expecting out of the record was for Zappa to record his singing, and then add musical accompaniment underneath, making it a fully produced album just like Fischer’s many inspirations. Instead, Zappa (likely without consulting Fischer even once) made the record more of a dissection of the man, leaving the songs are untouched acapellas and adding in various additional recordings to illustrate the type of person he was.

On the one hand, many of Fischer’s acapella recordings are genuinely interesting, as he clearly had a decent sense of time and rhythm, which helps to illustrate how he managed to obtain a small fanbase among the visitors of the Sunset Strip. He would sing about various, usually nonsense, topics with a reckless abandon that bizarrely works. The two best songs on the record are “The Twister” and “The Circle”, both of which feature catchy rock backdrops that lend themselves well to Fischer’s vocals, and paint a picture of what the album could, and probably should, have been.

On the other hand, Zappa’s insistence on providing an “unbiased” look on Larry Fischer results in several tracks which makes his actions as producer seem a lot more exploitative. This is especially evident in the last two sides, which feature numerous uncut sections where Fischer is just left rambling in the studio, either explaining how he wrote some of his songs or going off on various incoherent tangents. Not only are these songs not musical, they only seem to exist to point a finger at Fischer and go “Look how crazy this man is”.

Most worrying of all is the closing track “Larry Under Pressure”, in which Fischer expresses irritation at Frank for being asked to delve into his past experiences, and with a worrying degree of self-awareness reminds him of how society has basically abandoned him due to his illness, writing him off as “crazy” and locking him away so he won’t embarrass them. The fact that Zappa saw fit to put this conversation on the record was extremely unfair to Fischer and gives off the impression that he saw the man less as a person and rather as an amusing circus freak.

The album ended up selling poorly and also reviewed poorly, both of which angered Fischer as he had expected it to be his shot at the big time. He and Zappa’s relationship would slowly deteriorate, peaking in an incident in which he threw a glass ashtray at him, nearly hitting Zappa’s infant daughter Moon Unit, which sparked the end of their working relationship.

Fischer would record a handful more albums in the following years, but would also continue to battle with his demons, though thankfully died in relative comfort. Although his clear passion for music is evident throughout and often infectious on this record, it is spoiled by Zappa essentially putting this mentally ill man under a spotlight, giving a picture of him that most people would ideally have no business seeing.

 

David Bowie - LiveAndWell.com

Although far from the most famous or well-regarded David Bowie live album, Liveandwell.com is perhaps one of the most interesting, though it comes down a lot to the context of its release.

In 1997 Bowie had just completed his Earthling tour, and was pleased enough with how it had gone that he decided to immortalize it with a live album. To that end, he and several members of his backing band selected 10 tracks, containing songs from his last two albums, for release. To my knowledge this makes Liveandwell.com one of the only Bowie live releases to have been overseen by the man himself during his lifetime, and certainly the only one in which he had a direct hand in compiling it. Unfortunately, Bowie’s then-label Virgin were unwilling to release it, likely due to the lack of “classic” material, so it sat in limbo for over two years.

Around the same time, Bowie would partner with an internet startup UltraStar to produce a special subscription service named BowieNet. Part fanclub and part ISP, it was designed both to act as a hub for his fans to interact and view exclusive material, but also offered free hosting space for them to upload and showcase their own creations (5MB worth, a huge amount in the late 90s). Although expensive, it proved to be an immense success, and would remain active for the better part of a decade.

Around the turn of the millennium, Bowie’s attention returned to his shelved live album, and decided to make use of it by using BowieNet to turn it into the first “Virtual CD.” For most of 1999 and 2000 members of BowieNet could submit artwork and short written pieces which would be included in the package, allowing them to directly contribute to an official release. The CD was made available exclusively to BowieNet members (as well as new subscribers who signed up in the release window) in September 2000, before going out of print seemingly for good.

As for the actual content of the live album itself, it’s remarkably solid. As it only focuses on Bowie’s 90s material, it will likely not gain much attention from those who only enjoy his “classic” years, though it will likely resonate with those that have a healthy interest in that period. Although Bowie was 50 years old at the time of the Earthling tour, neither his energy nor his voice had diminished, and the various cuts from both Outside and Earthling gain an extra level of energy that adds a lot to the songs. The sound quality is also excellent, likely due to how closely Bowie was involved on it.

Original releases of Liveandwell.com also came with a bonus CD with four Earthling era remixes. The remixes themselves will likely only be of vague interest (though there is also an appearance of the otherwise unreleased “Fame” reworking “Fun”), but the enhanced content on this CD is a great time capsule of what BowieNet was like at that time. It includes a Bowie themed web browser, an archive of the actual Liveandwell.com website with various additional submissions from fans, and even a special Worlds.com hub named “BowieWorld”, which the man himself also assisted in designing and also apparently used to appear in before his hiatus in 2004.

In 2020, the album would finally be reissued as part of the Bowie estate’s “Brilliant Live Adventures” series, with two bonus tracks in the form of the rare “Tao Jones Index” 12” that appeared in 1997. Although it is missing the bonus CD, it is both available on streaming and a great way to get the album physically without having to pay through the nose, making checking it out almost trivial.

 

Syd Barrett - The Best of Syd Barrett: Wouldn't You Miss Me? 

In my mind this is the very best collection of Syd Barrett's solo material to ever be released. It's by some distance the longest, doesn't muddy the waters by trying to throw in anything from his time in Pink Floyd (as good as that stuff is), and has the finest selection of songs from each of his albums.

I don't think it's a stretch to say that both the albums that he recorded, whether it was The Madcap Laughs or Barrett, were pretty uneven and plagued with mediocre or even substandard numbers (seriously, whoever thought it was a good idea to release "If It's In You" must have done it to spite him, because it's just awful). It's a shame because both of them contain many incredible songs, but the weaker numbers hamper their power somewhat.

This compilation fixes that, I feel. It collects the best material from both, plus a couple of the better tracks from his 1988 leftovers release Opel. Perhaps they could have included more from there, but seeing as most of the unique stuff on it appeared to be unfinished sketches, the four we do get are fine inclusions. The title track especially deserved to be acknowledged like this.

Also, for those who have to have everything, there are a pair of rare numbers thrown in for good measure too. "Two Of A Kind" was done at a Peel Session and is a jolly little number, while "Bob Dylan Blues" was uncovered specifically for this album. It's interesting to hear Syd do almost a pastiche song, and compared to a lot of the unreleased stuff on Opel it's surprisingly coherent and developed. Pretty good.

In short, if you only had to buy one Syd Barrett CD, make it this one. If you want all the rest, track down the individual albums, but I genuinely think all the most essential material is here. The sound is great too, doesn't feel too compressed or loud.

 

John Larkin - Before Scatman: Early Sessions

It's a well known fact that before he became the Scatman, John Larkin was an extremely talented Jazz pianist and vocalist who, though he remained mostly under the radar, nonetheless carved his own niche. His out-of-print self titled debut from 1986 is a great example of just how good at it he was, but at long last, Iceberg Records has blessed us with a new release of archival recordings dating all the way back from 1978, when he was only 35-36 years old.

To my great delight, these recordings are not piano-only home demos like you might expect from something this relatively early in his career, but are instead full studio quality with an actual backing group of fellow Jazz musicians. This alone would make it of interest, but John actually provides some vocals as well, including a little of his trademark scat singing! It would seem that he included it as part of his music much earlier than I had assumed, even if it was another few years until he was encouraged to do it in public performances.

The four songs present here (presumably the only four to be recorded at this particular session) all appear to be original compositions from John, and feature excellent showcases of his piano and voice, plus the accompaniment by the backing players. As he's way younger than we've heard him before here, his singing is a little bit clearer, but it's still the same tone and energy that you would hope. The instrumental track with his scatting on top is insane, and might rank as one of the most intense jazz piano performances I've ever heard. There's also an early version of the song Love Cry, which he would eventually revisit for his self-titled debut.

All in all, this is an excellent little release; a little modest considering how little has come out since his passing but still well worth the unearthing. The world needs more Jazz from the Scatman. Here's hoping this isn't the last of it that we get.