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Friday Full-Length: Yawning Man, The Birth of Sol: The Demo Tapes

Yawning Man, The Birth of Sol (2009)

Still kind of surprising that a physical pressing of Yawning Man‘s demo collection, The Birth of Sol, has never surfaced. There was talk for a while of doing one, but it never manifest, and the persistently-underrated, due-for-their-due desert rock progenitors oversaw a digital version in 2009 through Cobraside that remains as close as The Birth of Sol has come to-date. Granted, the material is pretty rough. Recorded over the course of 1986-’87 — or somewhere around there, anyhow — it’s basically pre-digital rehearsal-space recordings. You can hear the warped tape as you listen through the near-90-minute span of 24 tracks (as well as a couple CD skips, oddly), which span avant jazz weirdness to a brand of bouncing punk that’s indistinguishable from that would shortly become Fatso Jetson, all the more for Mario Lalli‘s even-then-recognizable voice and quick-turning rhythmic progressions. It would be nearly two decades before Yawning Man put their first album out — that was Rock Formations, in 2005 — but like Across the River‘s even-earlier 1985 Demo Tape (discussed here), The Birth of Sol is an integral document of what was coalescing in the California desert at the time.

I’ll gladly argue that Yawning Man‘s most pivotal days, sound-wise, were still ahead of them when they tracked the material on The Birth of Sol, but even if you listen through these songs, you can hear that desert rock, as it was, was already something different from punk, from the heavy metal of its day, and even from the post-hardcore slowdowns that, soon enough, would become grunge. Even in their rawest form, Yawning Man stood apart from that, and that makes a release like The Birth of Sol all the more special.

The band’s last full-length was 2010’s Nomadic Pursuits (review here), and while the years since have seen a flurry of activity from founding guitarist and principle figure Gary Arce (2012 interview here) both in Yawning Man — who did a split with Fatso Jetson in 2013 — and outside of it, in collaboration with Hotel Wrecking City TradersYawning SonsWaterWays or Zun, whose debut stands among my most anticipated releases for 2016, word of Yawning Man proper’s next full-length has yet to materialize outside of some long-teased Raymond Pettibon art, the title Gravity is Good for You, and the occasional snippet or rough mix. Come to think of it, that’s plenty of word. I guess what I’m looking for is a release date.

When/if I happen upon one or one happens upon me, I’ll let you know, but until then, enjoy The Birth of Sol and take it for what it is. There’s plenty to get lost in, and from where I sit, it’s still worth hoping it gets pressed up one way or another one of these days.

As I write this, it’s actually Thursday night, a little bit before 11:30PM. I’m taking a half-day from work tomorrow (today by the time this gets posted) and figured I’d sleep better if I didn’t have this hanging over my head. Plus I miss writing at night, headphones in, the little dog Dio and The Patient Mrs., the latter of whom has been suffering from a cold for most of the week, both conked out. It’s already a seven-post day — rare, even rarer for the end of a week — but the holdover from yesterday was the Eight Bells news, and I thought it seemed tacky to post something about Portland when they obviously had bigger things going on in Oregon, what with the mass shooting and all.

And as to that, it seems pretty clear to me that we as a people, Americans, don’t give a fuck about it. We’re willing to sacrifice bunches of people for the illusion of what we’re told is a freedom. Trust cops. Buy more. Eat what they feed you. I don’t care anymore either. Not when there’s so much on Netflix to see! Until somebody picks up a molotov cocktail and starts a revolution — violent uprising is not the only way of producing substantive cultural change, but you can’t argue with a decent track record — nothing will change. Because we don’t want it to. Pumpkin spice! Selfies! Internet snark! Mass murder. Hallmarks of our season and our age.

What was I doing? Oh yeah, putting the blinders back on.

Headed to CT this weekend because I hear there’s a hurricane coming and fuck it, that’s how I wanna go out. Bedroom Rehab Corporation play the release show for their new one on Saturday in New London and it’s a killer lineup, so I’ll be at that, and look for a review on Monday. Also next week, reviews of Clutch and Graveyard. Both are late, but seriously, I reviewed 50 fucking records this week — more if you count streams, which at this point I do — so if that’s not enough for you I don’t know what to say. If I have time, I might do Monster Magnet or Snail as well, but we’ll see if I get there. Both are on the docket though either way. Also got an Admiral Browning tape that I’d very much enjoy writing up. Might save that for next Friday and treat myself a bit. And the interview with Lori S. from Acid King. That will be up somewhere in there as well. Busy week all of a sudden.

There are a lot of shows coming up I wish I could see. I will not get to all of them, but I will do my best. It bums me out deeply and sincerely to report that I’ll be unable to make the trip to Munich for Keep it Low. Car trouble for both The Patient Mrs. and I has severely sapped funds that would’ve otherwise gone toward a plane ticket, and my student loans are apparently in default if the increasingly disturbing emails I get from Navient: Or Whatever the Fuck They’re Called this Week can be remotely trusted. Whatever. Amnesty now for immigrants and students. Too big to fail is too big to exist. Let them dock my pay if they want my money so fucking bad.

Got myself all jazzed up tonight. So much for sleeping.

Have a great and safe weekend. Please. Consider it a favor to me. And while you’re doing me favors, please check out the forum and radio stream.

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