Flipped Out’s Platter Patrol

Flipped Out’s Platter Patrol
From Vol. 2 No. 1, 2000

Ungawa b’wana, all ya Fishpissers, twisters, and garage rockin’ hipsters! This here is Flipped Out, CKUT’s Subterranean Jungle host, ready to rave about what he’s been diggin’ the most when it comes to some of the bossest of 1998’s black shellac! As usual, my eardrums have been getting a pummelling by a variety of vicious vinyl and over the last five years, one of the groups that has continually put the jumpin’ beans in this disc jockey’s jeans is the Kaisers. They’re a pompadoured, Cuban heel-stompin’, guitar-totin’ foursome from Edinburgh, Scotland who could’ve very well beaten The Beatles at their own game had they also been around layin’ down their Liverpool-by-way-of-Hamburg sound in ’62. Only thing is: it’s in this dreary decade that The Kaisers have insisted on crankin’ up their torrid studio-bound take on the mean and lean live attack of the Cavern Club combos. Definitely not dedicated followers of musical fashion, them krazed Kaiser cats! Their fourth and latest album, WISHING STREET (Imperial Wireless), finds ‘em somewhat toning down their frenzy by superbly dishing out hip-shakin’ melodies and goose pimple-inducing harmonies, ’64 Searchers and Hollies style. Fave cuts of mine include the irresistably upbeat opener Time to Go, the smoulderin’ title track, as well as (She can’t do) The Wiki Waki Wu. And take it from me, baby, if the Wiki Waki Wu doesn’t become a dance sensation sweeping the nation, then I’ll eat my leopard-skin loincloth!
Now this king of the jungle sure as heck doesn’t kneel for nobody (unless she’s got Brigitte Bardot’s body and Betty Page’s bangs, that is) but, exceptionally, I now have to proclaim: “Hail The Conquerors! Hail The Conquerors!” From Minneapolis, Minnesota these mad modniks come a-chargin’ with their totally happenin’ debut disc, TURN ON, TUNE OUT, DROP DEAD (Get Hip). The platter’s cover promises ‘twenty-six minutes of pleasure’ and, man, do The Conquerors ever deliver on nine nifty numbers chockfull of organ-powered grooves which behoove you to move! Tunes like So Turned On and Family Tree simply bring out the go-go gorilla in me while 7 Chiffon Place is tailor-made for the peeping Tom that lurks deep within every red-blooded male! I was lucky enough to catch The Conquerors in action at Atlanta’s Fuzzfest garage-a-rama and at Montreal’s own Monster A Go-Go Halloween hullabaloo. On both outasite occasions, they gave the chicks in attendance an awful lot of Mod-pop satisfaction and watch what happens when these love gods’ new release does the same to your girl in the privacy of your own pad. You’ll never thank ‘em enough!
Another band whose berserk on-stage performances have blown what’s left of my mind is The Bomboras outta Boss Angeles. Their most recent long-playing wax offering, HEAD SHRINKIN’ FUN (Telstar), follows its predecessors by spewin’ forth mainly instro-mental insanity with a bit of vocal lunacy on the side. Pulverizing picks-to-click: the Davie Allan and The Arrows-like motor-sickle gang anthem Last of the One Percenters and the gutsy garage raver Run and Hide. The album’s cover art alone is worth the price of the platter and if, by any chance, you’ve wiped out on the deluge of instro combos in the last few years, the odds are that The Bomboras will make you foam at the mouth for more wordless wildness as will Impala’s spankin’ new solid slice of vinyl: R+B FAVOURITES (Estrus). Unlike The Bomboras’ fast and furious fuzz’n farfisa noise, Impala from Memphis way put on a sonic bump’n grind routine that’s ultra keen, adding a sax (in Impala’s case, spelled S-E-X) in their panty-peelin’ inspirin’ presentation of 15 coolsville cuts. This is the sorta sleezy stuff strippers strutted to before live bands disappeared along with pasties in peeler parlors. Tell ya what: surrepticiously slip R+B FAVOURITES onto your local stripjoint’s sound system and then observe how the dancers react. Who knows? Maybe one of them will start makin’ like Tempest Storm while the bouncer’s throwin’ your butt out onto the sidewalk!
When your posterior has recovered, I recommend shakin’ it like crazy to a trio of ripsnorting records by one of the roughest and toughest groups to hail from the U.S. Pacific Northwest in the 60’s: The Wailers! THE FABULOUS WAILERS, AT THE CASTLE and LIVEWIRE have been unleashed on an unsuspecting square world by the eternally swingin’ Norton label. Collectively consisting of scorchin’ 1959-67 sides, all three slabs of wax wail (ahem) without fail on material ranging from blistering rhythm’n blues blasteroonies like their versions of Louie Louie and Sac O’Woe, to demented punk workouts such as Hang Up and the accurately entitled Out of Our Tree. And if a shower of p.o.’d adolescent Sixties snot is the bag you’re in, then take Flipped Out’s tip that you grab the following TEENAGE SHUTDOWN anthologies on Crypt Records: JUMP, JIVE AND HARMONIZE and I’M A NO-COUNT. These are among the first two of a planned set of thirty (!) dirty LP’s representing the underbelly of one of the most unrelenting and under-rated rock’n roll movements: the garage band explosion of the mid-60’s. JUMP, JIVE AND HARMONIZE is loaded with poundin’ punk r’n b while I’M A NO COUNT is overflowing with aggressive, arrogant and angry teen anthems. If you’ve got the darn fool notion that punk rock is a 70’s invention, then lending your loves to The Outcasts’ 1523 Blair and The Cave Men’s It’s Trash should clear up that misconception in no time flat!
Speakin’ of trash, all this groovy garbage I’ve been goin’ ape over should be all yours for the pickin’ at your cooler record shop. And Montrealers can always have a treat diggin’ the big boss beat of these discs and many more by tuning in to my weekly radio shindig. Anyway, Babalu, until I return to sock it to you in the next issue of FISH PISS, just keep in mind that if the platter ain’t got plenty of raunch, reverb and fuzz guitar on it, then it’s probably full of… you know. Like later, baby!