Core, Revival (1996)

Released some 20 years ago, Core‘s debut, Revival, is one of a whole league of records from its time and its place begging for a reissue. The mid-’90s were a strange time. I mean it. In the era of Clinton deregulation and corporate largesse, the music industry thrived, and it was the pre-filesharing peak of the CD era, but at the same time, there was almost no direction. The shadowy music-tastemaking illuminati — which at that point consisted of major labels, radio stations and print media, with some emerging online presence — had decided grunge was over after Kurt Cobain killed himself. It wasn’t, but whatever. Point is, there was no booming “Seattle scene” to take its place. In a way, one never came. But one positive turn that came out of the post-grunge music industry was that major labels, for a time, were willing to take a chance on rock bands. Nobody really knew why Nirvana took off — their biggest single was unintelligible; it defies the logic of pop — so there was a sense of, “Well, maybe this‘ll work too.” It’s how Kyuss got signed to Elektra. It’s how Monster Magnet got picked up by A&M. And it’s how A&R guy (and fellow WSOU alum) Jon Nardachone was able to get away with bringing New Jersey’s Core to sit alongside Clutch on Atlantic Records. Maybe stoner rock was the next great commercial movement?

It makes sense when one considers a style with attitude and weight in tone, and listening to Core‘s Revival — at 10 tracks and an hour long, plus 13 minutes of noise tacked onto the end of closer “Face” — they make a strong case for fuzz riffing as the answer for where to go next. The Long Branch trio of guitarist/vocalist Finn Ryan — now of The Atomic Bitchwax — bassist Carmine Pernini and drummer Tim Ryan worked with Billy Anderson on the album’s production and were probably at that point very much operating in Monster Magnet‘s shadow, as much of their scene would continue to do for the better part of the next decade. One can hear that influence in some of the spaced-out elements of opener “Way Down” — to say nothing of the “woo!” — or in the languid oozing of the 10-minute “Earth,” but Revival has as much crunch as it does cosmos, as the Alice in Chains-style melodies of “Cleargod,” the slower-nodding “Mosquito Song” and “Black Sand” showcased, and there were even a couple radio singles to be found in “Shift,” “Liquid” and “Kiss the Sun,” the latter of which remains a staple of The Atomic Bitchwax‘s live show. Topping an hour, Core had plenty of time to be multifaceted, and they were — here sounding like an East Coast answer to Fu Manchu or a precursor to Nebula, and there opening wide to the massive roll of “Sawdust” or “Face” itself, which remains a prescient blend of psychedelia, heavy fuzz and doom that was all the more a fresh blend two decades ago.

As it played out, stoner rock was not the next great commercial movement. Monster Magnet had a few significant hits, and Clutch got some airplay, but after a while, rap-rock and nü-metal took hold of the commercial sphere, labels became more inclined to acquire independent imprints than independent bands, and stoner rock became heavy rock, splintering into countless subgenres as it spread through a worldwide underground that only continues to flourish, never having really received a great major push. Maybe the timing was wrong. Maybe the marketing was wrong — 20 years ago, “stoner” was still a dirty word in the US. Maybe the line between grunge and those early stoner records — Acid King‘s Zoroaster, the stuff the Melvins were doing, Fu Manchu‘s No One Rides for Free, not to mention NJ acts like Godspeed (who were a little more metal but would spawn both Solace and The Atomic Bitchwax from their ranks) and Daisycutter (who had Tim Cronin and Ed Mundell in the lineup along with Jim and Reg Hogan, who went on to form Solarized) — was too thin and people wanted a radical shift rather than an evolution. There are any number of ways to look at this era. Like I said, it was a strange time. Bands were doing pivotal work, Core included — their 1999 follow-up, The Hustle is On, further solidified their trippy roll and was released by M.I.A./Tee Pee — and smaller labels like Man’s Ruin, Tee Pee, Bong Load, and so on, were having an impact that still resonates, so while platinum records and massive airplay weren’t necessarily in the cards, one can only look at what heavy rock became and is still becoming and call it a success. As a representative of its epoch and a clarion to future development, Core‘s Revival is a shining document waiting for rediscovery.

Please note: Because the entire album isn’t on YouTube, I’ve had to make due with what’s available. The playlist above does not have “Way Down” included, but Revival is available used on the cheap via a variety of purveyors digital and physical, and you’re resourceful, so I figured it was better than nothing and those who wanted to dig deeper would be free to do so.

Either way, I hope you enjoy.

—

Closing out the week with Core was a pick by a reader named Alex who checked in via comment to another post, so never let it be said I don’t take requests. Actually, he had a whole list from which I may pluck others. When was the last time you seriously considered the Celestial Season catalog in context? Exactly.

I don’t even know what kind of week this was, quick or not. I was trucking I suppose until Wednesday. Left work early to go to a doctor’s appointment up north, up by where I used to work before I got the Hasbro gig this summer, and decided to go visit my old office to say hi to the people there, who were never the problem. It was like 3PM by the time we left, and The Patient Mrs. and I wound up sitting in traffic for two life-sucking hours to get home. Reminded me of how much I hated making that drive every day. Really, by the time I got off I-95, I was cursing at people. Just awful.

Since then, absolutely dead on my feet. Just demolished. Wednesday night? Wreck. Yesterday, same. Today, I’m the kind of tired where I feel like I can’t even hold my head up without actually using a hand to help support it. I want to crumple into a pile of skin and sleep until I feel human again. Or at least as close to it as I ever get.

Today I’m working a little late as well, which I expect will be a different kind of torturous, but kind of needs to happen to make up the time. Need money, is the bottom line. Holidays are coming, I’ve taken a lot of days off for a dude who’s only worked at a place for like four months, so yeah. I’ll be at my desk if you need me. At least until it’s time to go pick the dog up at doggy daycare, which she started this week and to our pleasant surprise did not explode from the change in her routine. Hate leaving the dog home alone and she can’t come with me to this office, so there you have it.

Here’s what’s in the notes for next week:

Mon: Full stream/review of the Krobak record, an announcement about a certain festival in Maryland and a video premiere from Dead Witches.
Tue: Review of the Seedy Jeezus & Isaiah Mitchell collaboration, plus the new 11Paranoias video.
Wed: Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard review.
Thu: Ten East review, because it hasn’t quite been desert-y enough around here lately yet.
Fri: Full EP stream from Balam-offshoot The Sweet Heat.

I’ll fill out with other stuff and there’s news to come, of course, but that’s at least what’s going to be reviewed as of now throughout the week. Could move around. It looked totally different yesterday morning than yesterday afternoon, so always fluid to some degree.

Anything else? How are you? I hope you’re good. Think this post is long enough?

I hope you have a great and safe weekend. Please enjoy. Drink good coffee, eat good food, be with people you love, rock and roll, and please check out the forum and the radio stream. Thank you for reading.

The Obelisk Forum

The Obelisk Radio

King Crimson, In the Court of the Crimson King (1969)

An observation by King Crimson, and a brilliant one at that. The first time I heard King Crimson‘s 1969 debut, In the Court of the Crimson King was on the flight home from my honeymoon. I was 23, and while by some standards that was late to encounter the record, it’s a setting I wouldn’t have traded a decade for, returning from my first time out of the country, The Patient Mrs. sitting next to me as I loaded the disc into the bulky CD player I’d continue to use for years afterwards — 23-year-old me is a little disappointed every time 33-year-old me plays a song on my phone — the swells of the closing semi-title-track “Court of the Crimson King” matching the puffy whites and greys of clouds outside the aircraft window. It’s an association I’ll always have with the first King Crimson record, and that may well be part of why I consider it among the best albums I’ve ever heard, but sentiment aside, I think even the most objective observer would have to be taken aback by just how much ground the UK band — the lineup of Robert Fripp (guitar), Michael Giles (drums, backing vocals, percussion), Greg Lake (vocals, bass), and Ian McDonald (flute, clarinet, sax, keys, harisichord, piano, vibraphone, backing vocals, etc.) — were able to break on their debut release. Out through Island Records in the UK and Atlantic in the US for its original pressing, its 44 minutes continue to serve as a blueprint for the founding consciousness that typifies nearly every strain of progressive rock. It’s the higher consciousness that all those acid-heads were trying to attain.

King Crimson are probably more known for 1974’s Red, or their 1981 post-hiatus return, Discipline, which in many ways set the tone for everything that followed it, but In the Court of the Crimson King makes for an even more striking listen because it’s as much about its melodies as its experimentalism. From the jagged insistence of “21st Century Schizoid Man” — a landmark in itself and a defining moment for the band — through the closer’s spacious roll and minimalist interplay, King Crimson were beyond just freaking out. Every texture in the mellotron-infused “Moonchild,” and every pseudo-militaristic drum stop in “Epitaph” has its companion sense of melody, and the work as a whole is as gorgeous as it is complex. The dreamy wisps of “I Talk to the Wind” are much stronger for it, and while King Crimson would ultimately become more of a show of technicality and genre-defining progressive rhythms under various lineups incorporating the likes of guitarist/vocalist Adrian Belew, bassist Tony Levin and drummer Bill Bruford — nothing against that band, those players or anyone else who might have “I played ‘x’ in King Crimson” on their resumé — this earliest incarnation of the group was unafraid to complement all that distinguishing class with simple sweetness, and that was something that they’d never quite do in the same way again. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, listen to the early part of “Moonchild.”

Of course, that’s not to belittle the band’s subsequent accomplishments or what Greg Lake would go on to do with Emerson, Lake and Palmer, or what Fripp continues to do with the modern version of King Crimson — which if I recall correctly featured no fewer than three drummers on their most recent US tour; I was sorry I missed it — just to highlight the fact that In the Court of the Crimson King is something special and it was a shortlived moment in the band’s ultimate trajectory. I can’t imagine this post is anyone’s first time hearing it, but if it is or if you’re just revisiting, fair enough. I can’t imagine this version posted on YouTube will be there all that long before it gets taken down, so if nothing else, consider this a recommendation to take your copy off the shelf — CD, vinyl, whatever it might be — and give it another look, or if you don’t have a copy, to get one. It’s one of those records that goes a long way toward making a house into a home.

Either way, enjoy.

—

I’ve been thinking this week about the idea of curating. Announcing that I’m putting together that all-dayer for next August in Brooklyn has got me thinking about the various ways in which we curate our existence, the choices we make, the little things we do every day. My conclusion? I’m way fucking in favor. You know what the tradeoff is for all the privacy we’ve thrown out the window in the last two decades, all the data we’ve let be gathered and sold back to us, all the compromises we’ve made on our relationships to media and the relentlessly-cloying-yet-somehow-also-all-controlling corporatocracy in which we live? The tradeoff is the “I don’t want to see this” button.

It’s not quite my favorite thing in the world, but it’s definitely on the list. Imagine a real-life bullshit detector. I used to abhor willful ignorance, as though everyone should make an effort to expose themselves to everything, all the time — the least realistic of expectations. Our brains would explode. Fuck that shit. Life is short, and yeah, you should get out and see the world, but when you come across something you just know is garbage, “I don’t want to see this” comes in real, real handy.

The Patient Mrs. asks me all the time if I’ve seen this or that floating around, the latest horrific thing some Republican candidate said or did. There was a time where the answer would be yes, but now? Not a chance. I barely even pay attention to mass shootings, suicide bombings, war, greed, corruption, etc., anymore. Not when there are show flyers to check out! Is my being interminably beaten down by the needless cruelties we perpetrate on each other going to fix them? Nope. Am I improving myself by being upset by these things? Nope. Okay then.

I’m not saying compassion has no value — unless we’re measuring in terms of pure real-world productivity, which in most cases it does indeed have no value — or that the news isn’t worth keeping up with, but I’m saying that, like the news organizations, we’re fortunate to live in an age in which we’re also able to engage in what media studies calls “agenda setting.” I don’t know what Donald Trump said about Mexican immigrants. I don’t know how many people were blown up today in Baghdad. I do know Baroness have a new album coming out, and I know that the new Graveyard record kicks ass. And I’m perfectly okay with that balance. My agenda has been set.

Perhaps complemented by the revelation of a somewhat troubling tendency to gravitate toward ’90s television (Star Trek spinoffs, MST3K, etc.) and videogames, being able to curate my own life has proven a massive win, and it’s made me more conscious (again, for better and worse) of my decisions and habits, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. The rest? Well, I don’t know about it, because I choose not to know. Other people can fret over the fact that nobody’s willing to do anything about climate change, that people on the internet say, write and do stupid, racist, sexist shit, and so on. Other people can protest wars like that’s ever going to stop them. It’s not like meaningful debate is a thing that exists or anyone’s interested in having. So yeah, beat your head against the wall of someone else’s dumbassery. Let me know how many years that adds to your life.

Next week, stay tuned for a Funeral Horse track stream, an initial announcement from Desertfest, reviews of Thera Roya and Uncle Acid and an interview with Monster Magnet‘s frontman, the inimitable Dave Wyndorf. There’s copious news already to go up on Monday about a new record from Saviours and the Melvins‘ next European tour, and I hear there’s an announcement coming from the Borderland Fuzz Fiesta as well, so stay tuned. Much goodness en route.

And if this site is one of the things to which you choose to expose yourself on a regular basis, please know you have my thanks and best wishes.

Great and safe weekend. Please check out the forum and radio stream.

The Obelisk Forum

The Obelisk Radio

It’s been a full 18 years since Stoner Witch was released as the second of three albums the Melvins would put out through Atlantic Records, and I still feel like there’s just no keeping up with it. The quick turns in “Sweet Willy Rollbar,” the immediate throwoff of “Skweetis,” the before-it-was-cool Morricone whistles of “Roadbull,” the Side Two weirdness of “Shevil,” and “Lividity.” It’s probably not the best album from this era of the band — I’d give that title to 1993’s Houdini — but Stoner Witch is one of those records that has a language all its own, an album that you can walk up to someone, go, “Dude, Stoner Witch!” and know immediately by their reaction if you’ve got a new friend.

Listening to Stoner Witch on tape — similar I suppose to listening to it on vinyl, but cheaper and boxier — it’s easy to lose track of the parts, so that as you come around to the slow progression and creepy whispers of “At the Stake” at the end of Side One, it’s from a mash of early ’90s avant heavy rock. The tape, which is clear — awesome — was worth the five bucks I paid before I even put it on, and though I’ve owned Stoner Witch on CD for many years now, the inherent compression of the format makes a big difference in the actual listening experience, as the high and low ends seem pushed together as King Buzzo‘s vocals, zit-like, are forced to the surface of the songs.

I guess this is “commercial” Melvins as much as something like that ever existed, but let’s face it, without the push Atlantic gave them and the work they did supporting Houdini, Stoner Witch and 1996’s Stag, they wouldn’t be the band they are today, touring 50 states with a new live record out what seems like every six weeks or so. That’s not to say the Melvins weren’t working on their own terms at all times — to think that the abrasive noise at the start of “Magic Pig Detective” came out on a major label is fucking astounding — but these full-lengths, along with others along the way in their massive discography and 30-year tenure, helped define the band they’d become. Whichever you pick as your favorite, and whichever format your hear it on, Stoner Witch is a classic.

And should you happen to stumble into the tape as I did, hopefully you also enjoy getting lost in it all over again. If the future’s more your taste, here’s this:

Melvins, Stoner Witch (in full)

I actually went back and did a search, and though it seems unfathomable to me, all signs point to this being the first time that Clutch‘s “Red Horse Rainbow” has been featured as part of Wino Wednesday. Please, try and contain your surprise. Seriously, quiet down.

The track is a classic Clutch groover from 2001’s Pure Rock Fury, and guesting alongside Tim Sult on guitar is none other than Scott “Wino” Weinrich. More than half a decade later, Wino would bring in Clutch’s Jean-Paul Gaster to play drums in his short-lived Wino trio (Gaster kills it on 2009’s Punctuated Equilibrium), so the ties between the two entities are longstanding and manifold. They toured together in 2009 — Gaster pulling double-duty — and Clutch finished their headlining set by bringing Wino out for a jam on “Red Horse Rainbow” that, at least when I saw it in Jersey, was phenomenal.

It’s on my mind again now because Wino is joining Clutch (as well as Saviours and Mondo Generator) on their annual holiday tour this year, so there’s a good chance the same thing might happen again. If you get a chance to see it, obviously I’d recommend doing so. Here are the tour dates:

Clutch Holiday Tour 2012 with Mondo Generator, Saviours & Wino

12/26: Washington DC @ 9:30 Club
12/27: Asheville NC @ The Orange Peel
12/28: Lexington KY @ Buster’s Billiards & Backroom
12/29: Columbus OH @ Newport Music Hall
12/30: Allentown PA @ Crocodile Rock
12/31: Worcester MA @ The Palladium

They were originally slated to hit Jersey on the 30th, but the Starland Ballroom in Sayreville unfortunately flooded out from Hurricane Sandy and they don’t think it’ll be open in time, so the show was moved to Crocodile Rock in Allentown. More of a drive, but extenuating circumstances are extenuating circumstances. Some shit can’t be helped — unless you, you know, reduce carbon emissions and whatnot.

Because I couldn’t find a decent live version of it on the Tubes of You (hopefully that’ll happen this tour as well), here’s the studio “Red Horse Rainbow” as it appears on the Pure Rock Fury album. Happy Wino Wednesday: