Walkman Volcano
Blindfold Test #30
Three mid-level ’70s/’80s rock stars I’ve never given a moment of thought to (four if the yacht-rock band counts); two ’60s acts from Italian South Philly, one way ahead of his time and the other way behind it; a whole bunch of ’80s British post-punk bands, at least two of whom reportedly considered themselves “neo-dadaist” and the rest of whom probably would have if they’d thought of it. Plus contestants from Japan, Bosnia, New Zealand, Germany, Italy, even Milwaukee!
The Cravats “Triplex Zone“ (from In Toytown, 1980; “neo-dadaist group from Redditch, UK” [discogs]) Low budget post-punk, recorded down the hall. Repetitive robotic science-fiction rhythm under guitar spew shaped into actual hooks, like fast Sonic Youth circa Sister in Von Lmo mode. Words are clumsy mulch, though they clearly rhyme — “raw” with “saw,” for instance. Nuclear explosion at the end. 7
Otto Luening “Low Speed“ (from Tape Recorder Music with Vladimir Ussachevsky, 1955; Milwaukee-born “German-American composer, conductor, flutist, and prolific music educator, notable as one of the early pioneers of electronic and tape music” [discogs]). Pastoral in an otherworldly way. Recorded on the moon. Another green cheese world, or martian metal machine music? Pretty, though! Calming, even! Quietly looped and distorted (and maybe conducted?) instrumental variations on a theme, could’ve been a mellow flipside to the previous song. A miniature minimalist composition. It’s lonely out in space. 7
Butterball “Butterballs Part 1” (single, c. 1967-’68, compiled on Mr. Luckee France’s 2000 Buttshakers ! – Soul Party Vol.1 and Tramp Germany’s 2012 Ancestors of Rap; South Philadelphia Italian-American radio ad salesman turned DJ and program director Joseph Tamburro): An announcer/master of certemonies starts off: “Show time at (some venue I can’t quite make out) in New Jersey…we’re gonna get the nitty from the gritty, and we’re gonna bring out the fat cat who knows where its at — Double B Butterball, too wide to get around it.” Don’t think I’ve never seen a picture of Butterball, but clearly he’s rotund, anticipating the Fat Boys, Chubb Rock, Heavy D, and so on. “Three times seven, makes me over 21…Call me wax paper ’cause I’ll rap on anything, call me Reynolds Wrap ’cause my rap is strong, call me candy wrapper ’cause my rap is so sweet…Closer than the ham on a country hog, closer than the law allows. Mama, watch your daughter, daughter, watch your Mama…I’m not your meat man [as in Sam the Butcher bringing Alice the meat??], but I’m a sweet man, not your iceman but I’m a nice man, not your old man, but I’m a soul man.” Anyway, Butterball, as I recall, was an r&b radio DJ in Philly, and clearly he is consciously rapping here. In fact he raps like he’s competing with other rappers, though I’m not sure who that could have been (in the very early ’70s I think?) — other radio DJs who never put their raps on vinyl, I suspect, though maybe there are tape-recorded soundchecks somewhere? And he comes closer and funkier than anybody I’ve heard this early, including Pigmeat Markham, to anticipating how old-school rap would eventually sound. And who knows where he learned his trade, and maybe even lines, from? I mean, it’s not like there were still many icemen driving door-to-door by the time he put this to wax. (And I still don’t understand where they got their ice from in the middle of summer — did Santa Claus fly it down from the North Pole?) Rap’s prehistory is a story that has still yet to be written, I think; as far as I know, David Toop came closest in Rap Attack, but that was more than 40 years ago. What has archaeology since then turned up? 9
The Very Things “World of Difference” (from The Bushes Scream While My Daddy Prunes, 1984; “dadaist post-punk band from Redditch, Worcestershire, England” [discogs]): Robots clomping in a electric storm. When it stops raining all you hear is their footsteps, then guitars clawing up and down at crooked angles, no wave or post-punk, kind of menacing. Staccato, echoed vocals, talked fast in rhythm. “Director says you missed your lines…go take five.” Singer sounds British, leading me to think Big Flame or Nightingales or Pigbros, one of those combos, mid/late ’80s. “He feels weak, sits in his grey chair.” Vocal exits, guitar takes over, clattering like a busy signal then doing a Twilight Zone thing. Which I’m sure isn’t just my imagination, seeing how the announcer actually welcomes us to another dimension. 7
012 “Live Fast Die Young“ (from Lets Get Proffesional, 1984; UK post-punk trio): “We’re out on the street, and we’re going nowhere.” Yet more noisy, squeaky, probably British, probably post-ish punk — so much of it this time, and I’m not complaining. “It’s a lot of fun, for a man and his gun.” Singer grows increasingly hysterical. Blankets us in fuzz and feedback like Jesus and Mary Chain, but with a more moblie sense of rhythm — not that it’s particularly funky, except maybe in a Gang of Four sense. World Domination Enterprises, Slaughter Joe, Meat Whiplash, the latter two of whom I barely remember? “We’re all going to die, sometime anyway.” Did Joni Ernst write the words? There’s money to be made….fun to be had…but don’t get upset about the little things, you pay the money, and we pull the strings.” YOLO rock. 7
After Dinner (アフター・ディナー) “Cymbals at Dawn“ (single B-side, 1982, compiled on After Dinner, 1984; fluid-membership Kobe, Japan project of lyricist/composer/vocalist Haco “that blends various elements such as new wave, electronic music, ethnic music, and field work” [japanimprov.com]): Applause, at first I figured for the previous song. Then marching boots, or at least martial drums, a drum corps in a parade, with…fifes? Flutes, anyway. A frail woman’s voice does the squeaking this time. You can’t really hear her words — or non-words, sounds like. These people seem to come by their low fidelity honestly, just from it being recorded live, unless the clapping at the start was an affectation. Singer does Yoko-like (or maybe Lene Lovich/Nina Hagen-like) squeak-yelps. Feels almost ritualistic, like an ancient folk tune, with the flute/fife whistling its theme all through; the instrumentation sounds ancient too, in fact. Might be entirely acoustic, for all I know. Can’t pin down the music genre, or the language for that matter. 7.5
Stack Waddy “Country Line Special“ (from Stack Waddy, 1971; Manchester, UK, psychedelic blues-rock band) Blues harp doing that House of Blues thing, warming up for a few notes then doubling the tempo. Harmonica is clearly the main instrument here; the rest is bloozy rock in a boozy pub. Can’t even swear I hear a guitar, though I definitely hear drums. Generic and energetic until it slows back into laid-back boogie mode, which is generic without the energy. The harmonica guy, I assume, bleats or belches or bellows then speeds back up again. Harmonica does that kind of wah wah thing, is there a word for that? Never gets more coherent than a run-of-the-mill jam session. The kinda music what gives da blues a bad name. 5
Growl “Working Man“ (from Growl, 1974; California hard rock band): Pretty, lazy, ’70s afternoon start, then gets powerchordy like the early Who, under a boogie rock growler croaking about being a workin’ man, doin’ the best he can. In bed by quarter to eight, no time to wait he can’t be late, and before the sun comes up he’s back at it again. BTO buffalo booger, taking care of business and working overtime. Punches the clock and does the job it’s been hired to do. Workmanlike. 5.5
Pablo Cruise “Island Woman“ (from Pablo Cruise, 1975, and on The Best Of, 2001; San Francisco soft/yacht rock band): Classic rockish piano start, then the singer tells us he fell for a “brownskinned woman” by accident, since at the bar he was just hoping to run into “a blonde haired woman I met the day before.” What happened instead is some “natural woman came out of the light” with “her black eyes shining bright”; dancing out on the floor, he never saw a woman move that way before. So he’s fetishizing the exotic, obviously, though I don’t know why the blonde wasn’t “natural” — maybe she bleaches? Totally lame chorus: “Oh my island woman, my island woman I see, oh my island woman, my island woman for me.” But interesting regardless, because at first his vocal reminded me of “Honky Cat”-era Elton John, who obviously had his own (later) song fetishizing an “Island Girl” (who to be honest I’ve always assumed might be a drag queen given that she was 6’3″ and turning tricks at 47th and Lexington). Here, tropical birds and maybe some horns and especially steel drums or timbale at the bridge signify “islandness” — meaning Caribbean, obviously, not Cape Breton or Iceland or Madagascar or Tasmania or Long. Much less Rhode which of course isn’t technically an island in the first place. 6
Pretty Tony “Jam the Box“ (single, 1984, collected on Fix it in the Mix, 1997 and 2014 Essential Media Group CDr/streaming compilation Sample This! The Foundation of Modern Classics; Miami electro producer and Freestyle member Tony Butler): “I’m gonna tell you how to jam… Gonna have you rockin’ from coast to coast,” promises an electro-funk robo-chipmunk, á la Newcleus in “Jam on It.” A spacey melody floats though the track, clearly swiped directly from Afrika Bambaataa, but where did he swipe it from — Ennio Morricone maybe? Via Babe Ruth maybe? I don’t think so, though I also have no better ideas. “Crank up the volume and turn it loose” (which rhymes with “juice”) on “the kind of speakers used in discotheques. Disco, rock & roll, rhythm and blues.” Probably called “Jam the Box,” though at first I thought “Jam the Rock” (as in planet.) The vocoder or talkbox also repeatedly order us to “get on down.” And like Nick Lowe they love the sound of breaking glass — as percussion (think C-Bank’s “One More Shot”), which happens a couple times and are the best parts of the record. Could easily be replaced by any random Maggotron cut (under whatever alias), and nobody’d be the wiser. 5.5
Kalesijski Zvuci “Oho ho, što je lijepo“ (from Kalesijski Zvuci, 1985, and on Bosnian Breakdown [The Unpronounceable Beat Of Sarajevo], 1992; apparently two-to-six-member string-based folk band from Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina): A fast, almost klezmery, accordion polka. Somebody chants “hooh hooh hooh” and “hahh hahh hahh” from deep in their Romani esophagus, a cousin of Gogol Bordello though more traditional so more like a great uncle instead. The squeezebox waddles and wiggles and you could dance a ska or jig to it. Vocalist keeps reciting something in a Central European tongue, possibly about a rooster. Ends with “Opa!!!, like at a Big Fat Greek Wedding. I swear in my freshman (and only) year at University of Detroit, where Thursday was the big party night because everybody went home to the suburbs on the weekends, the Rathskellar used to serve “desert sheiks,” a potent mix of ouzo and Lambrusco. But I can find no Internet evidence that such a concoction ever existed. 6.5
Babu Band “I’m a Disco Dancer” (from Disco Bhangra – Wedding Bands From Rajasthan, 1994; apparently a wedding band form Rajasthan, India): A distant, horn-like jig sound, so right off a fitting segue from the previous one. But this one is a lot more mixed up — and hornier, in the horn sense. Initially I figured we were still in Eastern Europe, but then I decided we’d moved on to South Asia or the Middle East. Midnight at the oasis, though we can only hear the mullah’s incantations across long expanses of Sahara sand. Clattery percussion under Algerian rai-like vocals. A short one, but I commend the blurry lack of fidelity, just like in those post-punk songs above. 7
The Kursaal Flyers “Pocket Money“ (from Chocs Away!, 1975, and later on several band anthologies; Essex, UK pub rock band): Singer says he’s got no checkbook, no stash, no pocket cash, not much of anything. Used to have 15 schillings in his pants, however much that is, but he spent it on whiskey and gin. A guy hands him a note, then mumbles something with a wink; the singer tells the story like the Coasters would, using a different voice for the street-smart con man character. Drum beats and basslines suggested ’70s soul or ’80s funk at first, but don’t stay strong long; now it’s more like pre-punk British mid ’70s Top of the Pops/Old Grey Whistle Test pop-rock bordering on glam but not quite getting there. Some horns toot, and the singer remembers a party the other night where he got stoned with a woman he met, and she takes him to a hotel where she lies to the desk clerk that they’re a married couple, and he slams some bills or coins down on the desk. Then something about a laundromat, still with the hey-buddy pull-you-aside semi-whispered more-talked-than-sung street-smart tone. But never anything particularly clever said in it. 6
Oscar Brown Jr. “Opportunity, Please Knock“ (on Between Heaven and Hell, 1962, and Kicks! The Best Of, 2002; Chicago-born “singer, songwriter, playwright, poet, civil rights activist and actor” [Wikipedia]) A crooner, probably in a sharp suit: “The older I grow, with every tick of the clock, while I wait for Mr. Opportunity….to knock.” (Ellipses for a pregnant pause, not missing words.) Diddybop fingersnap vocal jazz. “You don’t gotta beat on the drums, or beat down the door with a battering ram,” our beatnik hepcat tells Mr. Opportunity. “Don’t land in the room like a thunderous boom, don’t fly through the window like a rock.” Totally cornball now; whether it passed for true hepsterism then is anybody’s guess. Go ask Maynard G. Krebs. “There’s a ship out at sea comin’ in for me and I’m all set to go…get on the mark, and I’ll race you to the dock.” Very upbeat and optimistic, but clearly in need of finance, so it makes sense after the pocket money song, which was hoping for hipsterism in its own way too. And this one’s meaningful, maybe even more so if there’s a race element. Still, no “Get a Job.” 5.5
Plan 9 “Step Out of Time“ (from Dealing With the Dead, 1983; Rhode Island neo-psychedelic rock band): Surfish guitar, or garage revivalish, soaring like the Byrds or is it Yardbirds. Except this is from later than that. Sounds like the New England band Plan 9, whose singer turns out to have been distinctive; I’d recognize him anywhere. “Look inside, step out of time”: I guess the idea was they were out of time because it was 1981 or so and they sounded like…15 years earlier! Which would be like sounding like 2010 now! (Is there even a difference? Probably there is and I’m just too out-of-time to put my finger on it. But is it really as different as 1966 and 1981?) Anyway, I have a vague memory of a New York Rocker feature about Plan 9 by Byron Coley where he compared the singer to Mountain’s Leslie West (at least size-wise) and said they had three guitar players. (Like Black Oak Arkansas? But without the washboard.) Well, I can at least hear a couple. Their other gimmick was that the big guy was also an old hippie like in the Bellamy Brothers song who could therefore actually remember back when psychedelic rock happened the first time (or couldn’t remember, as the old joke goes), and he’s surrounded by much younger folks who cut their baby teeth on punk rock. 6.5
Spirocheta Pergoli “Merendine“ (from Fuzzi Bugsi Tumpa Il Bongo! EP, 1985, and collected on 2017 Ecstatic UK compilation Trax Test [Excerpts From The Modular Network 1981-1987]; Veneto, Italy “minimal synth/art pop” trio [Rateyourmusic]): Off-kilter disco drums, Slinky-like windup coils, silly bloogling noises, ha-ha uh-uh ha-has from a happy high-voiced guy while a lower-voiced Eeyore answers from his diaphragm deep in the mix. “Astonapoei solo meta mea astonapoei” — Sounds like they’re discussing obscure constellations in Latin. But the weirdo electrorockpop manages to grow bordeline catchy, and the curly steely wind-up effect returns at the end. 6.5
David Essex “Stardust“ (single and from David Essex, both 1974, and later anthologies; Essex, UK glam/pop-rock/showtune singer/songwriter/actor who “attained 19 Top 40 singles in the UK [including two number ones]” [Wikipedia]): A muffled voice: “Look what they done to the rock n roll clown, rock ‘n roll clown is there on the ground.” I couldn’t remember why that first line sounded so familiar — seemed like something Mott or T. Rex might’ve said. Then I realized: It’s from Pyromania, “Photograph” I guess, by Def Leppard, who were very fond on quoting/referencing mid ’70s glam classics on their mid ’80s albums. But here the line feels stranger, druggier, more introverted, burbled almost like Pere Ubu in “Sentimental Journey.” After a bit the singer wakes up: “Roll on up, won’cha come and take a look at me. Stand in line one at a time see me,” he suggests, like the r&r clown’s in a sideshow. “In a stardust ring, hey rock’n’roll king is dowwwwwn.” The mood is a There’s a Riot Goin’ On version of glam rock, with the same zone-out-and-crash-the-car relationship to its genre that that album had to Sly’s earlier hits. At the end though, a more joyful theme emerges out of the embers of the burnout, with children singing “la la la la” even. The whole thing partakes in a certain glam-rock theatricality (see Queen, Bowie, Rocky Horror) as well. 7
Kenny Loggins “Heart to Heart” (single and on High Adventure, both 1982, then numerous later anthologies; Everett, Washington-born folk-rock/soft-rock/r&b singer/songwriter/guitarist): Snappy but somehow serious rock keyboard lead-in. Mid to late ’70s, with a million-dollar-budget vibe glistening off the production . Starship, Pilot, Alan Parsons, Supertramp? For a second I thought maybe even Steely Dan. The tune does ring a bell. Turns into Hall and Oatesish blue-eyed falsetto soul over slightly Caribbean yacht-rock drums. Pablo Cruise, maybe? “Can we go on together, now that we’ve grown apart, though the only place to start, is heart to heart.” Sings something about “collecting lines,” possibly while he’s doing lines. Ultimately, maybe inevitably, there’s a sax solo. “Said it would last forever, I don’t know, maybe we’re near the end” — and I don’t know, maybe “we” are. A free spirit in a free decade, navigating the path of free love. Sociologically fascinating, in its own unctuous way. Then another sax solo. Wouldn’t be surprised if this was a radio staple, on some corporate rock soul pop format or other. Maybe on all of them. 6.5
Five Go Down to the Sea? “Why Wait Until April” (from Knot a Fish EP, 1983, later on Hiding From The Landlord, 2020; Cork, Ireland post-punk band): Cars-ish start, then an pompous gloomy Gus lamenting life or the lack thereof deep in his dungeon. “My dog is unfortunate, my poochy [is this a parody?]…I might die of leukemia, nobody come seem me, uh.” [and rhyme schemes worthy of Adam Sandler!] Then something about a “Walkman volcano.” Dude sobs, shivers, as he sings. “My mommy just diiiied, and somebody’s gonnnnne.” Really feels sorry of himself, unless he’s making fun of somebody who does, in which case I salute his straight face. Sounds stuck in a crawlspace, where nothing can go right, but nobody cares and nobody phones. Not that crawlspaces have phones, usually. All his words sound warped. Halfway hilarious, presumably not on purpose. Again, unless he’s, how do they say, taking the piss. 6
Benny “Skateboard (Uh-Ah-Ah)” (single, 1977, later collected on anthologies such as Amigo Charly Brown, 1994, and Bin Wieder Frei – Die Grossen Party Hits, 2011; schlager singer, actor and TV host, born Hans Jürgen Schnier in Rahden, Germany and frequently produced by Boney M/Milli Vanilli mastermind Frank Farian): Happy sunny German schlager about die “schule” und das “haus”….but wait, this is the “skateboard, ooh aahh aahh, street-surfin” (or is “sea serpent”) song — Benny! Who I gather was the kind of schlager cheeseball Mutter und Vater could liebe, but he had a lot of fun tunes on the bubble-rock side of things, even covering “Ça Plane Pour Moi” (or was it “Jet Boy Jet Girl.”) In this one, silly Harpo Marx bike-horn honking and an exuberant chorus more than make up for adult-schmaltz verses. I get the idea it was supposed to be fun for the teens and tweens, like I dunno “Jingle Bell Rock” or The Mod Squad. “Ist der grosse hit” — well, at least it deserved to be ein grosse hit. No idea if it was one. 7
Tragic Mulatto “Underwear Maintenance” (from Locos Por El Sexo, 1987; San Francisco art-punk band): Everybody toppling over everybody else to reach the finish line drunk-punk with a woman wailing about “rockety man” and Kleenex (though her band doesn’t sound nearly as singular as Kleenex.) Not to mention tampons and “bloody tissue [rhymes with ‘issue’ and possibly ‘miss you’] between your legs” and “pick me another bale of cotton” (for absorbency, I guess?) Her high shriek when she rides “to the sky, baby on the rag, baby on the rag so hiiiiiiiiiigh” reminds me of Dan Kubinski in Die Kreuzen. Otherwise, proto riot grrrrl for that time of the month, albeit with some Lora Logic style saxophone after a while, which helps. 6.5
Look Blue Go Purple “In Your Favour“ (from This is This EP, 1988, later included on Compilation, 1991 and Still Bewitched, 2017; five-woman “alternative pop-rock band from Dunedin, New Zealand” [discogs]) Hard, pretty folk rock with a woman singing about turning around, after a piano start; immediately I recognized it as Look Blue Go Purple from Flying Nun Records in New Zealand. She even seems to sing about the color purple (and red too). She’s “a fool to believe in” (1) “you and what you said”; (2) “you at all”; (3) “love.” Circular power jangle, doing that whirlpool Eno thing I always fall for. 6.5
Dan Hartman “Hands Down (Hands Up)“ (single and on Relight My Fire, both 1979; Harrisburg, Pennsylvania-born pop-rock and disco “multi-instrumentalist, producer, singer, and songwriter” [Wikipedia]): Rolling drums and handclaps first suggest early rap, then late disco. Sylvester influenced maybe, unashamed to be cheesy, with proto-Prince falsetto notes. “Hands down, you got me in a trance!” I’m leaning toward either Paul Nicholas, the “Heaven on the Seventh Floor” guy, or another ’70s one-hit wonder I always mix him up with, Kenny “I Like Dreamin’” Nolan, who was one of Disco Tex’s Sex-o-Lettes and co-wrote “Lady Marmalade.” Also reminds me of Dan Hartman’s “Instant Replay,” bright candy-painted bubble-disco as difficult and pointless to resist as “Keep It Comin’ Love” by KC & the Sunshine Band. Cool gurgle effects, hard Chic basslines, everything propulsive with cute little switcheroos on the side, plus our third or fourth sax solo of this evening’s program. Totally disposable, and all the better for it. I bet some disco purists (yes there was such a thing) scoffed at this guy, and I don’t doubt he had his horrid moments. But the bounce-house of fun here can’t be denied. 7
Ferko String Band “Down in Jungle Town“ (from The World Renowned, c. 1963; “a participant in Philadelphia’s annual Mummers Parade…with more first prize finishes than any other band” [discogs]): Disney-style circus music played by a South Philly mummers string band freezing their drunken fingers off but proud to represent their neighborhood parish on New Years morn, hopefully not in blackface — at least a couple banjos in there, hell maybe all banjos. Turns into “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” or “The Gang’s All Here/Alabama Jubilee” or something super familiar like that that I can’t place. (Pretty certain it’s not “Oh Dem Golden Slippers.”). Holiday fun for the whole family! 6.5
Folk Devils “The Third Stroke“ (from The Best Protection EP, 1987; Notting Hill, West London post-punk band): Sputtering ruffian itching to start a row, another British bloke. Or possibly Australian. “How far can this road take us, before we all break down, oh Lord please don’t take me now, with all this evidence around” — not a situation he necessarily wants to be remembered for. Kinda clunky, but with free-jazzish sax all through. “A hole in his heart where his life leaks out” — I get the idea he’s shooting for a super intense Nick Cave circa Birthday Party thing. Blurt? Inca Babies? If he sounded more American I’d guess Scratch Acid. Chants “love, love, love, love…” over and over and over. “Just can’t handle the emotional angle.” Parting shot: “That’s sick!” Like that National Lampoon cartoon where the amputee amphibian shows up at a restaurant serving frog’s legs, or “we’ll kill this dog.” 6
Eliminated for Reasons of Space, 26 July 2025
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Edd Hurt
Harmonica wah is either by hand or with a cup. It’s called wah-wah, don’t know any other name.