Flipsides & Otherwise: FAO #8

With the traditional summertime slowdown in essential new releases having kicked-in, after an exceptionally busy spring, it’s been a good opportunity for this writer to step-back ahead of the autumnal assault of fresh (or reheated) musical product. That said however, there are still a few intriguing things that need to be drawn into the reviewing room for a concept-less cross-examination in-between soaking-up the sun and gorging on barbecue-scorched fodder. So here goes…

Last Harbour - My Knowen Foe (CD-EP, Little Red Rabbit Records)

Previously only available via reactivated UK quasi-indie chain store FOPP, this three-song EP from Manchester collective Last Harbour now sees a wider release on the group’s local Little Red Rabbit imprint. Acting as a side-dish to the recently-unveiled Dead Fires And The Lonely Spark long-player, My Knowen Foe follows in the firm tradition of other short-form Last Harbour sets – like 2000’s sublime 4-track Hidden Songs 7” and 2005’s oblique October tour/mail-order CD – in that it both compliments and challenges the band’s album-encased wares. So whereas the long-form collections are heavily-crafted and meticulously-sequenced, the condensed ones are looser and less overbearing. In this case, the opening title-track proves to be the most convincing of Last Harbour’s more rocking moments since the frenetic “Five Mile Lake” – from 2001’s An Empty Box Is My Heart mini-album – with its coruscating Crime And The City Solution-meets-The Gun Club shoot-out. Track two is a revisitation of “The Wanting Seed” from 2002’s hard-to-find A Host of Wild Creatures LP, with the original’s more subdued smouldering switched to an earthier but perhaps more overwrought arrangement. Better though, is the concluding “Sinner”; a baroque ballad that builds from a minimalist shimmer to a swell of strings and evocative multi-layered vocals. Whilst the ascetic exteriors of Last Harbour may still deter the casual listener, this trio of stormy and serene songs does act as an engrossing distillation and diversification of the Last Harbour lexicon.

Visit: www.lastharbour.co.uk

 

The Byrds - Live At Royal Albert Hall 1971 (CD and double-vinyl, Sundazed)

Although common consensus has dictated that The Byrds unofficially ceased to be after Roger McGuinn was left as the only original member after 1968’s influential Sweetheart of The Rodeo, the decidedly hirsute twilight incarnation of The Byrds still delivered some quality goods, albeit sporadically. Certainly, albums like 1970’s half-live/half-studio (Untitled) revealed that The Byrds could pass muster in the studio and – more crucially – punch some serious weight on stage. Thus, this second posthumous live selection – following-on from 2000’s more raggedly-recorded Live At The Fillmore West – February 1969 - is far from being a glorified fan-fleecing bootleg. In fact, it ranks as one of the best archival affairs in The Byrds’ much-anthologised canon. McGuinn, six-string maestro Clarence White, bassist Skip Battin and drummer Gene Parsons may just have sunk to a penultimate low in the studio with the overdubbed-drizzle of Byrdmaniax, but in the haloed Anglo auditorium of The Royal Albert Hall they were seriously smokin’ for the night of May 13th, 1971.

The tightly-galvanised quartet’s performance is bright and powerful throughout; from sprightly-remouldings of the pre-beards-era repertoire (Dylan’s “My Back Pages” and “Mr. Tambourine” as well as McGuinn’s own “Mr. Spaceman”), to a joyously-jangling “Chestnut Mare,” within a raw reading of “I Trust” (originally drowned in studio gloop on Byrdmaniax) and on to a soaring gallop into old gospel standard “Jesus Is Just Alright.” Perversely, the defining highpoints of the whole set come from the extreme ends of The Byrdsian world; specifically an acoustic harmony-heavy shuffle through Leadbelly’s catchy cocaine anthem “Take A Whiff (On Me)” and a blissfully-indulgent and near-wordless 18+ minute psychedelic-jam attack on “Eight Miles High.” The only identifiably weak moments are the opening goes at McGuinn’s bluesy “Lover of The Bayou” and Dylan’s rustic “You Ain’t Going Nowhere,” which both suffer from somewhat over-egged vocals made too evident by some microphone distortion. Perhaps realising this relative deficiency, the folks at Sundazed have also generously snuck-out superior contemporary live renderings of the twosome, on the simultaneously-pressed Live In Holland 1971 seven-inch. All in all then, with the promise of further such vault-raiding selections in the pipeline, it’s definitely a good time to brush-up on the convoluted Byrds historiography.

Visit: www.sundazed.com

 

Camper Van Beethoven - Popular Songs of Great Enduring Strength And Beauty (CD and download, Cooking Vinyl)

With a 1985-1990 back catalogue as deep as it is wide, the provision of a ‘portable’ Camper Van Beethoven compilation is arguably a lot more necessary than say last year’s clumsy Libertines retrospective, Time For Heroes. So determined to fulfil such a public-service duty, the latter-day line-up of CVB even went to the pains of authentically re-recording material from 1988’s Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart and 1989’s Key Lime Pie, when a vindictive Virgin Records refused to free the master tapes from legal purgatory. With these new-as-old tracks seamlessly mixed-in with cuts from 1985’s Telephone Free Landslide Victory, 1986’s Camper Van Beethoven and II & III, this non-chronological soup of songs goes a long way to summarising the beguiling invention of CVB’s genre-blurring endeavours. Joining the dots between the twisted-folk-rock of The Meat Puppets, the schizoid-rhythms of fIREHOSE, the muddy lo-fi of early-Pavement and the multi-cultured-pop of The Specials, the CVB muse is/was a many-headed beast. Highlights collected here, include the classic college-rock anthem “Take The Skin Heads Bowling”; the carnivalesque “Good Guys And Bad Guys”; a clutch of inspired instrumentals like the raga-flavoured “Circles” and the reggae-scented pleasures of “Border Ska” and “Skinhead Stomp”; a warped violin-heavy stab at Status Quo’s already-strange “Pictures Of Matchstick Men”; and the woozy “The Day That Lassie Went To The Moon.” Predictably, there are a few choice omissions that baffle and grate a little, such as the affectionate honky-tonk make-over of Sonic Youth’s once-murky “I Love Her All The Time” (found on II & III) and anything from the infamous full-reconstruction of Fleetwood Mac’s bloated double-length Tusk (cut in 1987 yet not released until 2002). But then, as with many clever ‘hits’ collections, Popular Songs of Great Enduring Strength And Beauty will send many new converts grave-digging for further buried-treasure, as well as acting as a respectable stand-alone sampler.

Visit: www.cookingvinyl.com