Escapade – Due to A Faulty Premonition

Escapade
Due to A Faulty Premonition

Somewhere along the line, someone thought it would be a good idea to pick up assorted instruments and jam on them for hours on end until something good came out if it. Many thousands of years ago, the first cavemen pounded on rocks and hummed into the night, making noises most of us would hardly consider music. But they were learning, and soon enough, in few thousand years, things progressed to tonal instruments and skin-covered percussive devices. Perhaps they even began to work out a conscious harmony and melody. Then, in 1999, a bunch of guys got together for a third album of more advanced technological noisemaking and threw together a disc that would be released by Motherwest Records. This neo-neanderthal crew was called Escapade.
The problem was, like the cavemen before them, it was just unplanned noise and screeches and bellows and thumps and more rattles. It never got around to amount to anything. It simply kept screeching and bellowing and never quite gelled into anything substantial. One would have thought that, after ours of jamming, that the group would’ve stumbled onto something symphonic and full. Something accidental but poweful and mildly cohesive. But instead, each “musician” tirelessly continued making his own favorite noise or shriek. Everyone wanted center stage. Everyone was playing their own solo squeal. Alas, together they were a wandering wrecking machine – incoherent and random to the point of the non-sense.
Yet, somewhere someone thought everyone should experience the confusion as well and published the music on CD format. Reviewers nationwide gasped at the utter mushiness of the album, and they feared each new 10 minute track as it plodded and waivered randomly forward – barely.
And for miles around, garage and basement bands nationwide, who often took to “jamming” as a good “warming-up” before practice began, or before they played a “real” song, looked at each other aimlessly and wondered aloud: “We make those noises before every practice and show. Maybe we are on to something!”
But they were wrong too. They were on to nothing really.You see, Escapde was just making an album of all the bad jams the Doors did between songs or when Jim was too drunk to sing. These noises and endless musical rants were okay live when you went and saw the Doors because you never knew what Jim would do next, even if he was too wasted to sing–maybe he might pull out his weasel and scream, “Come love me!”
Escapde writes: “composed collectively and spontaneously (no overdubs were used).” I think they were right about it being spontaneous and using no overdubs, but I am not sure you can say it was done “collectively” since a collective is a “group of individuals working for the mutual benefit, harmony and survival of the whole.”