New York Rocks: Original Punk Classics of the '70s
VARIOUS ARTISTS
Koch
The nascent NYC punk movement had unassailable aesthetic and political ramifications in the music world. No argument there. But what often gets lost in the discussion is the general quality of the music. Setting aside, for the moment, that punk musicians did not generally possess the technical prowess of their more mainstream counterparts – that was at least part of the point – do the songs of that period stand alone as quality pieces of art?
As New York Rocks bears out, not as much as they should. This is a very entry-level primer on the Big Apple punk scene, containing one song each from most of the major acts: Ramones, Patti Smith, Television, The Dead Boys, Blondie, The Dictators, Suicide et al, as well as a track by the scene's fountainhead, The Velvet Underground.
History has given the New York punk movement a lot of credit for originality — the romantic notion that a bunch of disaffected nightcrawlers were somehow rewriting the rules of rock. I don't hear it. Yes, they were reacting to the bloated excess of art-rock and the curdled wimpitude of the California sound. Yes they were creating from-the-gut music usually without commercial consideration. But there was a whole lot of recycling going on.
In this regard, the worst offender on New York Rocks is The Dictators' "(I Live For) Cars and Girls," a sophomoric blend of garage rock and bad Beach Boys, dressed up with an ironic sneer. It's unmitigated crap.
Other crap: Johnny Thunders' tin-eared "You Can't Put Your Arms Around Memory"; The Mumps' feeble take on '60s garage-pop, "Crocodile Tears"; Suicide's static and pointless "Cheree"; and Wayne County's silly, name-dropping paean to "the scene," "Max's Kansas City 1976."
Onto stuff that's merely overrated: Patti Smith, punk's poetess laureate, yelping unintelligibly through "Ask the Angels"; The Ramones' charming, but thoroughly derivative "Blitzkrieg Bop"; Blondie's "X Offender," a cheeky update of the '60s girl-group pop.
OK, let's flip the coin to the good stuff. The Heartbreakers, one of the less celebrated names of the movement, bring a churning energy to "Born to Lose." Mink DeVille's "Let Me Dream if I Want To" showcases an insistent groove and some nicely textured guitar work. Television took guitar sonics to a higher plane on "See No Evil," with the two-pronged attack of Tom Verlaine and Richard Hell (easily the most proficient players of that time and place).
Richard Hell and the Voidoids' "Blank Generation" is another accomplished song (relatively speaking), with power, attitude and some corrosive guitar breaks. And if you had to pick out a track on this comp that would stand up as the most prototypical, crank-it-up punk, it would be The Dead Boys' anthemic "Sonic Reducer."
Which brings us to The Velvets and their iconic "Rock & Roll," (released in 1970, at least five years before the others), on which I'm frankly ambivalent. Lou Reed and company were original and uncompromising, and I admire their work, but it's never completely wormed its way into my affections.
When discussing the New York punk scene of the mid '70s, it strikes me that, to fully appreciate it, you had to have been there. Funny enough, I could've been, having graduated from college in upstate New York in '76. I came to Florida instead, and was inundated with Jimmy Buffett. My bad. (www.kochentertainment.com)
– ERIC SNIDER
Exploration
GRACHAN MONCUR III OCTET
Capri
Like Andrew Hill and Sonny Clark, trombonist Grachan Moncur III was among a handful of lesser names that found a home at Blue Note in the '60s, bridging post-bop and avant-garde. In the '70s, he retreated to the world of music academia. Exploration is his first album as a leader since 1977 – and what a return. The 67-year-old Moncur entrusted several of his back compositions to arranger Mark Masters, who gave them a sonorous, urbane treatment, fully utilizing the sonic scope of trumpeter Tim Hagans, French horn player John Clark, trombonists Moncur and Dave Woodley, alto saxophonist Gary Bartz, tenor man Billy Harper, baritonist Gary Smulyan, bassist Ray Drummond and drummer Andrew Cyrille. (if you're counting that's actually a nonet). The horn charts blend lush-and-creamy with just the right dollop of astringency. The players sync in beautifully, embracing these bold, angular compositions. Exploration glides through an array of moods: jaunty, somber, whimsical, manic and more. Although the solos are uniformly strong, special mention goes to Harper and Bartz, whose jagged lines and measured dissonances ratchet up the intensity every time they step to the fore. On occasion, Exploration comes off as a bit too mannered, but by and large it hits the trifecta: splendid writing, intuitive group interplay and ear-turning improvisation. (
www.caprirecords.com)
– ERIC SNIDER
The Will to Death
JOHN FRUSCIANTE
Record Collection Music
Although The Will to Death isn't John Frusciante's first segue into solodom, there is always a bit of apprehension on the part of the public in believing that a solo CD will live up to the famous sound of the artist's principle band. Considering Frusciante's primary group is the Red Hot Chili Peppers, one of the most deservedly hyped bands in modern rock, the pressure on the guitarist to fill his own shoes is a little greater. While not as imminently memorable as his work with the Peppers, The Will to Death does have its selling points. This record (the first in a series of six promised to be released in as many months) shows Frusciante's proficiency in non-traditional song structures as well as crowd-pleasing pop numbers. His hollow-bodied guitar tone and crooning voice are forceful when necessary, but are generally content to cruise. Throughout, Frusciante combines often-hyperactive guitar leads with subtle effects while keeping the music focused and linear. While cohesive enough, the album lacks climax and tapers off after the first seven or eight tracks, continuing at a somewhat boring pace through the final half. The result is what can be typically expected of a man-in-famous-band gone solo: True fans will eat it up; the rest of us will long for another "By the Way."
– CASEY CLAGUE
This article appears in Jan 19-25, 2005.