Psych and Prog

Lush “Gala” (4AD, 1990)

I generally don’t like to review compilations on this blog, but, obviously, they’re sometimes the best way to hear an artist’s peak recordings. Such is the case with Gala, which served as the wonderful British shoegaze band Lush’s intro to American listeners. It collects tracks from their Scar, Mad Love, and Sweetness And Light EPs, plus a couple of outtakes—i.e., the group’s best shit. Which is not to belittle later albums such as Spooky and Split. They’re solid, but they lack the magical fairy dust with which Lush sprinkled their earliest classics.

Lush stood out from the shoegazer pack because they were led by two women: the exquisitely talented guitarist/singers Emma Anderson and Miki Berenyi. Their dreamy, creamy vocal interplay caresses your ears right after a spine-tingling guitar intro of opening song “Sweetness And Light.” The title plays on a common perception about women in rock, but Lush’s catalysts always tempered those qualities with astringent noise amid the sonorously ringing guitars and dulcet vocal tones. Drummer Chris Acland and bassist Steve Rippon deftly but unspectacularly did their rhythmic thing in the background.

Lush worked in a fairly narrow niche—airy yet sometimes noisy shoegaze—but their melodies are so strong on the releases presented here that a certain one-dimensionality isn’t a problem. They perfected the now popular subgenre of ice-queen-gothgaze on “Leaves Me Cold” and “Second Sight.” The towering latter tune boasts thrilling tempo changes, proving that Lush may have listened to a math-rock record or three. “Downer” is intense, surging rock that’s tougher than most of their output and reflexively makes me think of the technical musical term “ramalama.” Similarly, “Baby Talk” is a post-punk pulse-pounder full of radiant guitar crescendos and Rippon’s mantric bass pulse while “Bitter” is the most caustic song here.

The songs that Cocteau Twins genius Robin Guthrie produced on Mad Love really volumize Lush’s lustrous guitar attack and enlarge everything to optimal shimmer and glow. Swooning, waltz-time charmer “Thoughtforms” mirrors the Cocteaus’ ornate curtains of gleaming guitars, and it should’ve been a massive worldwide hit. By comparison, the version from Scar sounds much scrawnier. “Hey Hey Helen,” a cover of the funkiest ABBA song, is not an ironic jape; rather, Lush treat this Swedish pop gem with the precious appreciation it deserves. Best of all may be “De-Luxe,” one of Anderson/Berenyi’s finest cowrites. I don’t use this term recklessly, but this is perfect pop—a yearning orb of sugary noise, swaying melody, and surging rhythms.

It would be a humanitarian benefit if 4AD would reissue Gala on vinyl, as it’s been oop on that format for 35 years. Besides losing the label and band a lot of potential money, it’s just morally wrong. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Osamu Kitajima “Benzaiten” (Island, 1976)

Born in 1949 in Chigasaki, Japan, Osamu Kitajima began his career in rock bands that emulated the Ventures, the Beatles, and the Bee Gees. After a stint as lead guitarist for the Japanese pop star Yuzo Kayama and a whimsical 1971 psych-pop LP cut under the alias Justin Heathcliff, Osamu wearied of the Anglo-American musical influences that had marked his career and decided to fuse traditional Japanese musical elements with prog- and psych-rock moves. These impulses blossomed on his second album, Benzaiten, the multi-instrumentalist’s peak and his boldest artistic statement. (The 1977 follow-up, Osamu, is also a mellow beauty—a Far East Asian take on New Age and folkadelia.)

“Benzaiten – God Of Music And Water” begins Benzaiten with martial-arts yelps, Dennis Belfield and John Harris’ tight funk bass lines, Brian Whitcomb’s strutting clavinet, and George Marinelli’s delicate guitar filigree, all of which harmonize with wispy flute and chimes. It’s a weird track, like early Commodores collaborating with Taj-Mahal Travellers. A leisurely pastoral stroll bearing Tatsuya Sano’s gorgeous shakuhachi melody, “Taiyo – The Sun” sounds like a direct influence on early Ghost, complete with throaty, grave vocals, as Osamu gets off a lovely guitar solo that curls like incense smoke. The song’s at once utterly blissful and slightly ominous, like walking through a lush forest on your way to a hanging.

Featuring future Yellow Magic Orchestra member Haruomi Hosono on bass, “Tengu – A Long-Nosed Goblin” is a Japanese analogue to the Stooges’ “Dirt”; a methodical, serpentine slab of sensuous funk, with Osamu’s electric guitar frayed and wah’d to a crispy grooviness. Like all the best extended jams, this gets more psychedelic as it goes. The epic, mind-altering reprise of the title track offers more of Osamu’s guttural vocal emissions amid wonderful sonic feng shui: minimalist acoustic guitar, hypnotic biwa (wooden lute) riffs, piercingly pretty Hayashi-bue (flute) with African, Mexican, and Japanese hand drums percolating beneath it all. Beginning with a mournful shakuhachi solo, “Whoma – Immortality” goes on an marathon journey of sparse beauty, at points anticipating the questing, East-meets-West ensemble Codona. It solidifies Benzaiten as one of the musical head trips from Asia.

Trivia: The Japanese psych-rock group Acid Mothers Temple paid homage to this LP with 2015’s Benzaiten. Tip: The German label Everland Psych reissued Benzaiten in 2024. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Spacemen 3 “The Perfect Prescription” (Glass, 1987)

If, as the title suggests, the British quartet Spacemen 3 considered this platter a drug, then it’s more Quaalude than Dexedrine. Excepting the crashing turmoil of “Take Me To The Other Side” (this is how you begin an album!) and the throbbing first-album Stooge-isms of “Things’ll Never Be The Same,” the songs on The Perfect Prescription exude a contemplative, post-coital calm. On their second LP, Spacemen 3—led by Pete “Sonic Boom” Kember and Jason Pierce—deployed to divine effect Farfisa organ, electric and acoustic guitars, violin, trumpet, and “bass vibrations” to achieve a peak in a career unmarred by duds.

The band’s reverent homage to Lou Reed’s sprawling, urban paean “Street Hassle” evokes fond memories of the original and it segues beautifully into the aerated ambient whorl of “Ecstasy Symphony” and the gently exploded cover of “Transparent Radiation,” which dwarfs Red Krayola’s original in a most respectful manner. Tracks such as “Feel So Good” “Come Down Easy,” “Call The Doctor,” and “Walkin’ With Jesus” are all adorned with minimal instrumentation, but the music has a relentless lambency that tickles you into tranquil abstraction.

Bathed in a holy glow of Farfisa, “Walkin’ With Jesus” is a proto-Spiritualized jam epitomized by Pierce’s salubrious infatuation with Christian imagery while he and his Rugby, England mates forge a beatific new hymn that will give even the staunchest heathens shivers up and down the spine. “Feel So Good” and “Come Down Easy” are spot-on emulations of J.J. Cale’s ultra-laidback, featherlight blues rock. Rarely has a rock group sounded this blissfully opiated. The latter’s a nearly seven-minute, see-sawing blues rock mesmerizer that you wouldn’t mind going on all day. Some might call it monotonous, but it’s actually as spellbinding as swaying on a hammock. “Call The Doctor” is a stark cautionary tale about heroin abuse buoyed by watery guitar, lowing bass, and Sonic Boom’s sotto voce intonations. It’s a phenomenal yet harrowing way to end this druggy album—a subtle ripple of darkness on a record mainly radiating celestial light. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Mandrill “Mandrill Is” (Polydor, 1972)

Mandrill’s ’70s albums contain extraordinary highs and embarrassing lows. They are nothing if not consistently inconsistent. Yet all of these records are worth hearing and are usually reasonably priced, so the ROI is solid (which is the title of their 1975 LP, which you should get, obviously).

The Brooklyn-based soul/funk group changed personnel often, but were led by the talented multi-instrumentalist Wilson brothers: Carlos, Louis, and Ricardo. Everyone in Mandrill played percussion and everyone sang, on top of their more specialized duties. The communal vibe among them was celebratory and the message positive. A savvy DJ could make a killer party-starting mixtape using the band’s best 20 songs.

Mandrill’s second album, Mandrill Is, has more hits than misses and stands as one of their strongest efforts. “Ape Is High” is such a great way to start an album; it’s one of Mandrill’s toughest funk numbers, churning and burning in the vicinity of War’s “Me And Baby Brother.” Frederick “Fudgie Kae” Solomon’s corkscrewing bass line and Charles Padro’s in-the-pocket drums nudge the song into sublime territory while Claude “Coffee” Cave’s florid keyboard solo ices this flavorful cake. The Wilson brothers’ “HIGH” chants and Omar Mesa’s fiery guitar riffs in the coda launch it out of this world. The LP’s other single, the horn-laden stormer “Git It All,” peaked at #37 on the soul chart. It’s one of the purest party-funk tunes ever, with the banal lyrics to prove it (“Come on, everybody/Are you ready to get it on?/Woo!” etc. etc.). But who cares when the rhythm and vocals are so motivating?

More aural flames ensue on “Lord Of The Golden Baboon,” a sizzling funk instrumental with beaucoup hand percussion and vibrato sax blats, and “Kofijahm,” a guttural and chunky tribal-funk workout, but one unexpectedly embroidered with flute, vibes, and a boldly questing bass line. Mandrill’s vast array of instrumentation and dexterity separated them from most 1970s’ funk stars.

But it’s not all sweaty jams on Mandrill Is. Almost half of it offers contemplative pleasures… and annoyances. On a positive note, “I Refuse To Smile” is a close sonic cousin with War’s breezy summertime jam “All Day Music” and “Children Of The Sun” brings celestial soul of sweeping grandeur that’s enhanced by Cave’s vibraphone. The intro to “Central Park” resembles King Crimson’s touching ballad “I Talk To The Wind” (or the first Mandrill album’s “Chutney”), until it morphs into grandiose, swift-paced horn-rock à la Chicago. The uplifting “The Sun Must Go Down” chills with Santana-esque mellifluousness.

The album’s low point has to be “Universal Rhythms.” Having a toddler talk for an extended amount of time on a track is a recipe for cringe. When an adult musician explains what rhythms are to said child in a very earnest manner over chimes, chants, and gong hits, you quickly lift the needle to the next track. But overall, Mandrill Is ranks high in the oft-sampled funkateers’ catalog, and, blessedly, finding a decent copy won’t bankrupt you. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Dinosaur Jr. “You’re Living All Over Me” (SST, 1987)

On their second LP, You’re Living All Over Me, Dinosaur Jr. emerged as the missing link between Neil Young and Meat Puppets. Leaping back and forth across the chasm of pre- and post-punk with a rare agility, these three Amherst, Massachusetts musicians—guitarist/vocalist J Mascis, bassist Lou Barlow (who also played ukulele and “tapes”), and drummer Murph—created exhilarating beehives of primal rock noise.

You’re Living All Over Me‘s nine songs possess a swarming density and they ebb and flow with frightening intensity. Mascis sings as if his entire record collection got washed away in a flood. His parched, forlorn vocals ride fuzzed waves of Zuma-fied feedback, and the turbulent swells of melodic noise have a genuine poignancy and beauty that were uncommon in American post-punkdom of the ’80s.

Right from the start, “Little Fury Things” (Mascis had a thing for misspellings—see “Kracked” and “Raisans”) captures Dinosaur Jr.’s perfect balance between tenderness and turbulence. On “Kracked,” Mascis generates a thrilling update of Bubble Puppy’s wheelie-popping guitar frenzies. The aptly titled “Sludgefeast” out-grunges all of the genre’s big names as it mudslides all over the stereo field. “The Lung” is just a brutal tear-jerker, surging and wailing and shredding like you’d expect from the most sensitive badasses in Massachusetts. The heart-shattering rocker “Raisans” is as catchy as anything on Nevermind and should’ve been a hit; the melody during the line “She ripped my heart out, beating” is god-tier, especially given the lyrics it accentuates.

“Tarpit” achieves another emotional high (or is it low?); it’s a woozy power ballad for which Mascis’ laconic drawl is ideally matched. And while Barlow’s “Lose” is just C+ Dino Junior, the album-closing “Poledo” (basically the birth of Sebadoh, as it’s a Lou solo joint) is a bizarre curveball. An disorienting lo-fi collage that deals with archetypal Barlow-esque romantic and existential conundrums, “Poledo” mixes earnest and urgent folk-rock passages with harsh noise blasts and some of the most moving ambient drones ever finessed by an indie rocker. It’s a real stunner, and, to this day, it’s unbelievable that J let Lou put it on the record.

When You’re Living All Over Me was released in 1987, its unconventionally traditional sound seemed like a true revelation. Thirty-seven years later, the album stands as Dinosaur Jr.’s crowning achievement, even as the band has slouched into the status of underground rock’s respectable elder statesmen. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Parliament “Motor Booty Affair” (Casablanca, 1978)

Parliament‘s seventh album, Motor Booty Affair went gold, spawned the hit single “Aqua Boogie (A Psychoalphadiscobetabioaquadoloop),” offered a beggars banquet of samples for hip-hop producers, and inspired a bunch of Detroit wiseguys (who included friends of mine) to start a fanzine called Motor Booty. While it might not be as celebrated as Funkentelechy vs. The Placebo Syndrome or One Nation Under A Groove, Motor Booty Affair ranks as one of George Clinton and company’s most interesting recordings. In the last half of the ’70s, this large Detroit ensemble were on a roll commercially while maintaining high quality control in the studio.

A concept album inspired by Clinton’s fondness for fishing and bodies of water (and, as always, psychedelics), the LP revolves around the city of Atlantis, a Utopian place where its citizens achieved liberation through dancing—which included busting underwater moves. And if you enjoy agua-centric wordplay, you’ll love Motor Booty Affair.

This album also marked the emergence of former Ohio Players keyboardist/synth master Junie Morrison as Parliament’s musical director (he’s credited as J.S. Theracon for legal reasons). Having Morrison and Bernie Worrell on keys, Michael Hampton and Gary Shider on guitar, along with Bootsy Collins and Cordell “Boogie” Mosson on bass, plus James Brown alumni Fred Wesley and Maceo Parker in the horn section, gave Parliament a deep bench of musicians fluent in funkitude.

Motor Booty Affair dives in with “Mr. Wiggles,” undeniably the coolest song ever about worms dancing underwater. An understated groover, the track insinuates itself into your ears like an eel slithering through seaweed. The ebullient synth squeals and squelches by Worrell or Morrison, Hampton’s Jimmy Nolen-like guitar riffs, Tyrone Lampkins’ staunch 4/4 kicks, and muted horn blares all cohere into a submarine of joy. The cleverly titled “Rumpofsteelskin” is an ass-worshipping party jam that makes early-’80s Prince seem demure. Lubriciously funky rhythms and an earworm refrain by the “Choral Reef” backing vocalists of “livin’ and jivin’ and diggin’ the skin he’s in” elevate the track into DJ gold.

Topping the R&B chart in 1978, “Aqua Boogie (A Psychoalphadiscobetabioaquadoloop)” is another subaquatic funk mover, and a distant cousin to Parliament’s 1977 hit “Flash Light,” but with massed handclaps, strutting Moog bass, and spare, elegant piano embellishment. It’s no surprise that “Aqua Boogie” was sampled in at least 70 songs. One of the more anomalous Parliament cuts, “Liquid Sunshine” triggers a funk-rock torrent that’s so laced with video-game burbles, it tilts into mad psychedelia. The title track’s a slinky funk jam that doubles as a seductive gospel-ish epic, which is something you don’t hear every year.

Motor Booty Affair has a couple of duds—the syrupy ballad “(You’re A Fish And I’m A) Water Sign” and the stilted and not that fonkay “One Of Those Funky Things”—but overall it’s a (sea)worthy component of Parliament’s loaded canon. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Yo La Tengo “New Wave Hot Dogs” (Coyote, 1987)

Goofy title and all, New Wave Hot Dogs was the beginning of a fantastic run of albums by New Jersey indie-rock stalwarts Yo La Tengo. That stretch from this one to President Yo La Tengo, Fakebook, May I Sing With Me, and Painful plowed a narrow but very rich seam of tough-and-tender rock that used the Velvet Underground’s fertile catalog as a template. Might as well borrow from the best, right?

Yo La Tengo—guitarist/vocalist Ira Kaplan, drummer/vocalist Georgia Hubley, and bassist Stephan Wichnewski (later James McNew)—seem to have inhaled the VU oeuvre as prepubescents, and New Wave Hot Dogs was the result. Nobody simulates the cooler side of the Velvets better than YLT—except for the Feelies. Of course, when you’re band includes a former rock critic (Kaplan wrote for NY Rocker) who sings like a higher-pitched Lou Reed acolyte, siphoning influences from the Velvets is expected. At least these superfans had the guts to wear their fandom on their sleeve by covering the deep cut “It’s Alright (The Way That You Live).”

But, to be fair, YLT generate their own distinctive ax heat; check out the rancorous rave-up “House Fall Down,” the PSF Records-esque speed-freak eruptions of “The Story Of Jazz,” the twisted noise jam “Let’s Compromise” (featuring guest guitarist from Bongwater, Dave Rick). Another guest, dB’s guitarist Chris Stamey, delivers a Bubble Puppy-esque solo on “Lewis.” Kaplan glazes his understated Velvetoons with feedback that stays just long enough to make its point. The too-brief “Lost in Bessemer” proves that YLT could forge a moving, intimate instrumental, too; it’s their “Embryonic Journey.”

Alternately manic and contemplative, New Wave Hot Dogs leaves a pleasant afterglow. It took YLT a while to shake their VU obsession, but they’ve gone on to hack their own niche in the indie-rock stratosphere. However, it’s odd that they’ve let New Wave Hot Dogs (and the equally wonderful President Yo La Tengo) languish in out-of-printland for over 35 years. Or maybe it’s some legal b.s. beyond the band’s control? Whatever the case, it’s problem that needs rectifying. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Bongwater “Double Bummer” (Shimmy-Disc, 1988)

Following in the footsteps of the Mothers Of Invention, with whom they share a perverse sense of humor, Bongwater made their debut album a double. Led by actor/performance artist Ann Magnuson (see her in The Hunger, Making Mr. Right and other films) and former Butthole Surfers/Shockabilly bassist and renowned producer Kramer, Bongwater made a unique, albeit small splash in the indie-rock world with their sprawling debut. Their wry parodies, mutated glam rock, wide-eyed psychedelia, and inventive cover versions of famous rockers’ fluke hits and deep cuts made Bongwater a quirky cult band who deserve wider recognition.

The distinctive Kramer production stamp permeates all four sides and 27 songs of Double Bummer. The sound’s largely shrouded in a soupy fog; imagine Butthole Surfers on less potent drugs. A polluted stream of consciousness runs through this scrambled, rambling soundscape, as Magnuson sings and reads from her dream diary while Kramer laces tracks with vocal snippets from Richard Nixon, John F. Kennedy, ignorant right-wingers, argumentative people on the street, etc. In this cacophonous collage, everything is fragmented, skittish, askew, out of focus. The prevalent mode is truly fugged hallucinogenic rock—a kind of slo-mo psychedelia swelling with muted grandeur and subaquatic guitar scrawl by Dave Rick.

Kramer’s unpredictable flights of lunacy and lucidity bring us inspired versions of Gary Glitter Band’s “Rock & Roll Part 2,” Johnny Cash’s “There You Go,” the Monkees’ “You Just May Be The One,” the Beatles’ “Rain” and “Love You To,” Soft Machine’s “We Did It Again,” and a Chinese translation of Led Zeppelin’s “Dazed And Confused.” The latter will make you laugh until you fly.

Bongwater’s catalog is long out of print and even the career-spanning, four-CD box set came out in 1998 isn’t easy to obtain. It’s about time somebody—maybe even Kramer’s own Shimmy-Disc label—reissued their four cool albums and the 1987 EP, Breaking No New Ground!, that kicked it all off. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Straitjacket Fits “Hail” (Flying Nun, 1988)

On their classic debut album, New Zealand quartet Straitjacket Fits blended the Chills’ achingly beautiful melodic sensibilities with Sonic Youth’s soaring drone science. The result was a distinctive hybrid that doesn’t owe too much to either band. In the esteemed Flying Nun tradition, guitarists/vocalists Shayne Carter and Andrew Brough (who passed away in 2020) write exquisitely crafted songs that stick in your mind forever—well, that at least holds true for me, so far.

Straitjacket Fits’ best songs pierce the soul with the bittersweetness of the human condition. Carter’s tear-streaked voice casually floats over the glorious din, verging on melodrama, but always avoiding it. Carter and Brough wrote like sensitive poets, but never made you cringe. Some choice lines: “Your words feel homesick/Watch them flounder in mid air”; “Your skin crawls to escape my hand”; “Her speeding, her freedom’s what’s appealing to me/To stop her in her tracks/Match an act with flat tactics of attack.”

Some of these songs are so breathtaking (especially “Hail,” “She Speeds,” “Dead Heat,” and “Fabulous Things”), I am tempted to base religions on them. “Sparkle That Shines” (which appeared on the UK and US versions, but not on the original NZ release) and “Fabulous Things” are Brough tunes that capture his magically delicate touch; his melodies are paradoxically fragile, yet built to last for eternity. He would go on to pen even greater songs on 1990’s Melt such as “Down In Splendour” and “Such A Daze.” I do wish the Fits had given Brough more real estate on their records… or perhaps he just wasn’t that prolific. Whatever the case, more of Brough’s genius tunesmithery would’ve been nice.

When I listen to Hail, I feel a holy quiver—except when the sugary, unnecessary cover of Leonard Cohen’s “So Long, Marianne” is playing—and I am convinced that Shayne Carter and Andrew Brough were two of the greatest songwriters in rock history. Yet they’re not even in the conversation when that topic arises. And that’s just not right. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Throwing Muses “Throwing Muses” (4AD, 1986)

This stunning debut LP by Boston quartet Throwing Muses is as enduring as Love’s Forever Changes, as mysterious as Wire’s 154, and as otherworldly as Clock DVA’s Thirst. That it’s the product of three Rhode Island-based women and a dude who were all around 20 years old at the time of its creation makes it all the more impressive.

Throwing Muses contains the paradoxical elements found in many classic albums: gorgeous complexity, serene tension, sinister innocence, and erotic intelligence. Singer-songwriter Kristin Hersh’s voice spasms, flutters, an soars as if she were a female Tim Buckley; her words follow a logic known only to herself (or perhaps not) and sound like an alien poetry that conjures the subconscious’ scarred effluvia. Pretentious? Hell yes. But pretentiousness isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and it’s certainly an asset with this band.

On this record, Throwing Muses—who also consisted of guitarist/vocalist Tanya Donelly, drummer David Narcizo, and bassist Leslie Langston—were twisting rock intro unique shapes, creating new standards of beauty, and damn near reinventing the concept of the song. You can listen to this album hundreds of times and learn something new about it each time. It’s proof that obscurity is a virtue.

The crazy thing? Throwing Muses is scarce in the wild and online, and even CD versions of it are pricey. Hell, it’s not even on $pot1fy. We really could use a reissue of it on all formats. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

The Feelies “Only Life” (A&M, 1988)

The Feelies’ major-label debut found them with a slightly more in-your-face production, and, against conventional wisdom, they actually benefitted from it. Their previous album, 1986’s The Good Earth, though beautiful, sounds like it was recorded with moss-covered mics (R.E.M.’s Peter Buck co-produced).

Only Life, the New Jersey rock group’s third album, is a veritable guitar feast. Glenn Mercer and Bill Million deftly twine their electric and acoustic riffs around primal, mantric rock structures. These musicians don’t invent new guitar lexicons; rather, they create subtle dialects on the Velvet Underground’s ur language, which they “speak” as fluently as any band in the USA.

To be blunt, the Feelies display just two kinds of songs on Only Life: the pastoral, meditative chime, à la “Sweet Jane” (side one) and the accelerating chug à la “Foggy Notion” (side two), with occasional forays into whammy-barred spaciness. But within any given song there’s an omnipresent tension between those two styles. Only Life actually thrives on its sameness. As with the Wedding Present, the Feelies sound better as the tempo of their music increases. And they ingeniously sequenced Only Life so that each song gets subtly and progressively faster. Also worth noting: the high-velocity jangle train that is “Away” would segue well into Meat Puppets’ “Away” from Up On The Sun. Pure coincidence or…?

The Feelies’ music always has been devoid of raunch, even on their most manic LP, 1980’s Crazy Rhythms. There’s something monkish about their devotion to rock the VU way. They found what they do best and honed it to perfection on Only Life. Mercer’s affectless, Lou Reed-like voice heightens the sense of sexlessness on these 10 songs. It’s a comforting voice, a kindly whisper or humble exhortation imparting vague, clipped phrases such as “Got a ways to go/So much to know.” Paradoxically, his unexpressive voice profoundly moves you.

In a decision that’s very on-the-nose, the Feelies cover “What Goes On” (one of my favorite songs ever) with blinding speed, but unfortunately add little to the Velvets’ original. Well, who could, really? But it made Lou richer, and that’s what really counts.

Ultimately, the music on Only Life is a romp through the grassy hills of childhood and an urgent shuffle through the subway stations of adulthood. It stands as one of the greatest rock records of the ’80s. (Bar/None did the last vinyl reissue of Only Life in 2016. It’s time for another one.) -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Scientists “Blood Red River” (Au Go Go, 1983)

Considered by some to be harbingers of grunge and by others as goth, Scientists always struck me more as Australia’s Stooges. Now, that remote country has fostered many bands with Iggy & company’s DNA, but nobody outside of Birthday Party captured the Stooges’ menacing, seething quality with as much pizzazz as Scientists.

Led by vocalist/guitarist Kim Salmon, Scientists released a self-titled debut album in 1981 whose bubbly power-pop/punk songs didn’t hint at the brooding heaviness that animates their 1983 mini-album, Blood Red River. To these ears, they sounded like lightweight also-rans on that first LP. In retrospect, it makes sense that soon after The Scientists was released, two members left to join the Hoodoo Gurus. Bringing in drummer Brett Rixon, bassist Boris Sujdovic, and guitarist Tony Thewlis had a salubrious effect, as Scientists transformed into a very different and much ornerier beast.

“When Fate Deals Its Mortal Blow” stands as one of the greatest openings to a record ever. Salmon sneers a revenge tale like Lux Interior’s meaner, Down Under Döppleganger while the guitars squeeze out radiated sparks and the rhythm section metronomically marches down a muddy trench with grim certitude. Swagger overload right out of the gate! “Burnout” motors down the garbage-strewn alley with a brutal grunt of a bass line, staccato, pugilistic beats, and guitars like zipping wasps. The song eventually accelerates into a thuggish yet disciplined freakout.

“The Spin” starts exactly like Birthday Party’s sinister blues-rock churn “King Ink,” making it one of the least-surprising moments on Blood Red River. Following in BP singer Nick Cave’s footsteps, Salmon gets off a pitch-perfect, feral Iggy howl. “Rev Head” foreshadows British heavy psychonauts Loop, with some maniacal, Suicide-like repetition (hence the Martin Rev-referencing title) and Alan Vega-esque shouts thrown in for good measure.

One of the coolest songs of the ’80s, “Set It On Fire” forces your mouth agape with jaw-harp-enhanced Stooge-adelia, powered by a thrusting, lascivious bass line, plus well-timed, Jimi Hendrix-meets-Andy Gill guitar explosions. The title track ends the record with sparse, menacing blues rock that, if you saw it stalking toward you, you’d cross the street to avoid it.

Scientists would get trashier and thrashier on 1986’s Weird Love, but for my money, they decisively peaked on the short yet potent Blood Red River. (In 2015, Numero Group reissued Blood Red River. That’s probably the easiest and most cost-effective way to obtain it.) -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.