Rockin' Christmas Books 3: "Faces - Before, During and After"

Yes yes, I know that Christmas has well and truly past us by! Some of you may still have the odd ornament hanging from your front door/wall in order to keep that "little bit of Christmas" throughout the year. One year when I was a kid we kept our (fake) tree up the whole year because Dad couldn't be arsed to put it back in the roof (from memory we grew mushrooms underneath it). However, I have been astonished in recent weeks to receive increased activity on this blog, principally in response to my review of Ace Frehley's book some weeks ago. Indeed, that particular review has had double the number of reads of any other of my posts. Now, it could be that KISS fans are insane (disclosure: I am one and am married to an even bigger one), or it could be that somewhere along the line I missed my calling to be the Antipodean Lester Bangs. All that money on theological college wasted. Neverthemore, I hereby present for your edification my thoughts on "Faces - Before, During and After" by Andy Neill.

Picture a concert by one of the great stadium rock acts of our age (U2, Foo Fighters, Bon Jovi, etc). Dazzling arrays of co-ordinated lighting. Special effects and pyrotechnics. Choreography. High levels of musicianship and professionalism...

This bears no resemblance to a concert by The Faces.

Instead imagine yourself at a no-frills music auditorium sometime in the early 1970s. On entering the venue you discover roadies passing out cheap bottles of plonk with the instruction to "have yerself a good time!" While you sip the revolting nectar you notice some movement on the side of the stage. Without any introduction, five drunk Londoners wander out, apparently arguing over what song to play first. The singer sports a tartan suit and a rooster haircut. The other members of the band wear a combination of glam fashion and whatever they happened to find on the floor of their hotel rooms. As they plug in it becomes apparent that they are painfully out of tune. Another argument ensues, until a stagehand brings out a tray of drinks and peace returns. Over the next two hours the band will play a rollicking rock 'n roll set, punctuated by many jokes and flubbed notes, until they are too tired and inebriated to continue, at which point they invite the audience to join them in a celebration at the local tavern.

Ladies and Gentlemen: The Faces! Over their too-short career they would have no #1 hit singles or albums, receive precious little critical praise (not that they cared), and never played a perfect show if they could help it. They were torn apart by creative and personal tensions, with two of the members going on to bigger and brighter things. Yet The Faces remain one of the greatest rock bands of all time - a direct influence on the Punk revolution and a touchstone for every young rock band since that loves it loud and bluesy. This latest biography is only the second serious modern work on the band after "Last Orders Please" by Jim Melly, which was as much a sociological study as a rock bio.

"Faces" is probably the most thorough work on the band to date. Neill is meticulous in his research and strives to create a vibrant narrative that is free from hagiography (not easy when the author is a fan of the subject). Along the way inconsistencies in the received tradition are ironed out and certain myths are dispelled. This is not to suggest that the book is dry - far from it! There are many stories of life on the road. In fact, there would have to be as The Faces seemed to spend a large part of their existence on a sort-of Neverending Tour. It's no wonder, in fact, that conflicts arose so quickly, especially when Rod Stewart's solo star began to rise in earnest. Hungover and jet-lagged is no way to run a band.

Perhaps the most frustrating thing about the book is that the story of The Faces is of a legend unfulfilled. Despite a solid place in rock history, they never were able to produce The Single that would cement them in the public mind forevermore. While a cool DJ might occasionally play "Stay With Me" on the radio, it's almost a guarantee that few listening would correctly identify the group. As a result there is no grand climax in this rather lengthy narrative. Just when you think you are getting somewhere the rug is dragged out from under you. Moreover, the members of the band don't stand close scrutiny very well. Rod Stewart and Ronnie Lane both come across as egocentric and petulant. Ronnie Wood is revealed as being a little self-destructive. Kenny Jones and Ian McLagan are just a couple of booze-soaked boys along for the ride, but even they are not immune to bouts of juvenile behaviour that no doubt hastened the demise of the group.

Neill's work is perhaps best classified as an Unauthorised Biography With Significant Assistance. Many insiders are thanked in the Acknowledgments, and McLagan was an enthusiastic collaborator. The other three surviving members gave no significant assistance to the work (though it is revealed that Ronnie Wood's memory of the period is so bad any stories he does have would be considered highly suspect). The rest of the book is diligent in chasing up facts.

So, who would like this book? Well, serious music history nerds like me will wish to read it more than once - there is so much trivia to digest that a cursory reading is nowhere near enough. Anyone who is a fan of British rhythm and blues music will definitely want to give it a look. However, those expecting the consistent tabloid fodder of Ace Frehley's autobiography will be disappointed. This is a serious piece of rock history, not for the faint-stomached, but well worth the meal!

See ya down the pub!

Rockin' Christmas Books 2: "No Regrets" by Ace Frehley

In the early 1970s American rock 'n roll was at a shockingly low ebb. Few of the superstars who ruled the heights of Woodstock survived into the following decade. New harder acts like The Stooges and Alice Cooper showed the way of the future but had little impact within the mainstream. From 1970 to 1973 British bands ruled the States - The Who, Stones, Yes, and (of course) Led Zeppelin. Then, astoundingly, the USA produced two bands who became primary influences on mainstream rock for the next two decades - Aerosmith and KISS.

Between them, Joe Perry and Ace Frehley encouraged a generation of teenage boys (who otherwise would have become climate scientists or health care professionals) to spend hours striking rockstar poses in front of their bedroom mirrors. Perry and Frehley took the blues-rock of the 60s British superstars (Peter Green, Mick Taylor, Clapton, Townshend, etc) and gave it a major American shot of adrenaline and glitz. While Perry has so far elected to Let The Music Do The Talking, Ace has recently shed some light on his glorious and alcohol-soaked career.

Let me start with some of the same gripes that I had about Tony Iommi's book. First up, No Regrets has to be one of the most unimaginative titles ever presented. It appears to have no reference to Ace's career. I can think of several better titles off the top of my head - Trouble Walkin', Insane, even Rock Soldier. It's the same Work Experience Kid doing the cover as well - boring fonts, boring pictures. Most unattractive.

These flaws are easily forgiven, however, because Ace Frehley is one hell of a storyteller! This book has everything the serious (or even casual) fan of KISS could want. KISS were never a band to do things by half, collectively and individually. Each of the four original members were given licence by their fame to indulge in their passions. For Ace, this involved alcohol, drugs, fast cars, and card games. In the midst of it all we have the story (from Ace's perspective) of the band who gave the world some of the greatest rock riffs of all time.

Unlike Iommi, Ace Frehley has no problem with exposing his own faults and failings. Car chases and accidents are recounted in gory detail. The reader learns that Frehley was (twice) saved from drowning while under the influence of alcohol by the eternally sober Gene Simmons. Many other stories of life on the road and experiences in the studio permeate the narrative. It is a gripping tale from first to last.

Of course, no great tale is complete without a great villain. Frehley's nemesis, unsurprisingly, is the driven bassist Simmons, who in the past has had some blunt assessments of the impact of Frehley's addictions on the well-being of the KISS brand. The animosity between the two dates to their first meeting, but neither could deny the chemistry that Frehley brought to the band. One of Frehley's aims in publishing this book is to directly refute some of the barbs that have come from Simmons over the years, as well as firing a few return shots of his own.

Of course, the book isn't perfect. Frehley does gloss over the less glamorous period of the late 1980s and dire predicament his career was in by the time of the reunion of KISS in 1996. Additionally, readers may be somewhat alarmed that he firmly believes he was abducted by aliens. Yes, you read that right. This story first came out during an interview on the Eddie Trunk radio show about five years ago, where a clearly drunk Frehley related a tale of strange lights in his backyard to a bewildered and increasingly uncomfortable Trunk. Amazingly, he does not back down from the story (or even consider the possibility that it may have been a tequila-induced hallucination. What this does to the credibility of the rest of the narrative is a matter of individual judgment.

On the whole, No Regrets is a much more satisfying account of the story of KISS than the highly airbrushed "official" accounts currently on offer. In addition, the reader gains an insight into the mind of one of the true legends of rock guitar. Highly recommended.

Four bottles of Cold Gin out of Five.

Rockin' Christmas Books 1: "Iron Man" by Tony Iommi

The approaching festive season for me (and many others) usually means Books. Books as presents, books for presents, books to divert the kids, books to prop open doors/windows, etc. Many of my clerical colleagues no doubt use the slower pace of the post-Christmas period to read some of the serious theological works published in the previous 12 months that have joined the rapidly growing Must Read List. I hope to do a bit of that as well. But I also like to relax a bit and so I require books that Rock! Or rather, I love books about People Who Rock.

One of my more popular posts was this from last year, which described the various types of musical biography out there (along with some of my favourites). Well, now that I've cleared the path for you, I thought I'd devote a few posts over the next week or so to some of the latest offerings in the Rock Biography genre which you may be tempted for that Special Headbanging Someone this Christmas.

First up: Iron Man by Tony Iommi.

Iommi is the guitarist in Black Sabbath, whose detuned riffing and blistering solos gave birth to the genre of Heavy Metal. He has also shared the stage with some of the most prominent, talented, and controversial figures in rock music. Tony should have a bunch of good stories up his sleeve.

I'll get my biggest gripe out of the way first - the graphic design of this book is TERRIBLE! Front cover is a close up of Tony's face with unimaginative block lettering down the bottom. For some reason the "M" in "Man" is written in Iron Maiden script. Huh??? Given that Sabbath weren't short of good fonts on their album covers surely it couldn't have been too hard to use something that even vaguely embodied the band the author actually played in. Seriously, they either gave this cover to the Work Experience Kid or (more likely) the publisher had to put out something in a hurry to meet a deadline. Given that Sabbath announced their comeback album and tour a couple of weeks ago I get the impression that time wasn't a luxury.

Of course, we can't judge a book by the cover, and surely once we get inside Tony will keep us enthralled with tales of Excess On The Road...

Well, yes and no. Tony gives us his perspective on Sabbath's long and controversial career, and that alone makes the book important. He has chosen to construct his memoir as a chronological series of anecdotes. Each chapter runs about 3-5 pages and is presented in a conversational style, which is helpful for those (like Ozzy) with ADHD, but more than a little frustrating for anyone who graduated primary school. At best, it feels like you are sharing a pint or 60 down the pub with Tony while he shares his Best Recollections. Actually, if the publisher had framed the book in that way it would have been a much more enjoyable read. Tony has been presented by bandmates past and present as being little more than a Control Freak, and he takes the opportunity here to answer his critics and provide his side of the story. He even comes off as moderately likeable and I even found myself thinking, "I reckon I could have been in a band with this guy. He's just misunderstood." Nevertheless, Iron Man lacks two things that could have turned it from Decent Read to Quality Memoir.

Lack #1 - Effort. This book feels like someone pressed the Record button, transcribed the results, and stuck a cheap-ass cover on it. Not everyone is going to go to the level of Nikki Sixx, whose Heroin Diaries were a work of art as well as being hilarious and revolting. But even those who have followed a more traditional format (Steve Tyler, David Lee Roth, Tommy Lee, Anthony Kiedis, etc) have made sure that the reader walks away with more than a collection of short stories. Again, perhaps time pressures were an issue and Tony didn't get to realise his vision. That said, Tony has held the status of Rock Legend for several decades now - this book was going to come out sooner or later and Tony had plenty of time (in the last decade in particular) to have cobbled together something a little better than this.

Lack #2 - Juiciness. You know those cakes you sometimes get at the houses of Old People, that dry sponge with no icing that you need two pots of tea to wash down? Imagine that in book form. Black Sabbath was a band whose level of craziness on the road was at least a match for Led Zeppelin. Ozzy Osbourne has boasted that while in Sabbath he took LSD for a year just to see what would happen. You would think Tony would have some fantastic tales to tell. Well, he does, but in this instance he is keeping his mouth shut. Sure there is the occasional road story, but most are fairly tame and if you are even moderately acquainted with Ozzy and the boys you will have heard much worse elsewhere. Either Tony is so ashamed of his and others' behaviour that he has chosen to expunge it from the record (unlikely) OR the cordial (and profitable) relationship that he has re-established with the Osbourne camp (re: Sharon) and the potential for future earnings meant that he chose to keep many such stories under wraps. As such, there is no REAL insight into what it was like to be in Black Sabbath during the glory days of 1969-1983. Sure, the comings and goings of musicians and managers is documented accurately and each album is analysed for its merits (or lack thereof). The keen fan will already be aware of much of this, and will probably come away with amazement that Tony chose to keep flogging the dead horse for so long.

To be fair, maybe one of Tony's problems is that he is English, a race not known for self-examination and public confession. Even the working class of Birmingham, it seems, retain a Stiff Upper Lip at all times. In my experience, works on English musicians tend to work best when someone else is observing and interpreting the events and characters. Chris Welch's biography of Yes was a great example of a trusted insider getting notoriously reticent British musicians to say what they really thought about each other. Because Iron Man is totally Tony's story there is no-one to probe his inconsistencies and get beyond a purely subjective re-reading of events.

Fans of heavy metal and those new to the Black Sabbath story enjoy Iron Man. Despite its shortcomings it is not a bad book and gives a useful overview of the progress of such an important band from the perspective of its main creative voice. However, hardcore fans will be disappointed by its shortcomings and won't easily forgive the lack of detail regarding the band's most sordid periods.

2.5 War Pigs out of 5.

Album Review: "Unity" by Garage Hymnal

[Disclaimer: The author is married to a backing singer on Garage Hymnal’s debut album, Take My Life.]

The rise of Garage Hymnal as a major contributor to the local worship music scene has been nothing short of impressive. Their 2006 debut, Take My Life, was a slightly patchy affair, born out of the environment of a loose collaboration of musicians bound by a healthy dose of raw talent and a delight in the Word of God. Nevertheless, it boasted several strong moments (the title track and “Rejoice” in particular) that signalled that these were a young bunch to keep an eye on. By the time of their self-titled release of 2009 the group had coalesced into a much tighter unit, with the focus on the honeyed lead vocals of Alana Rodgers and Stephanie Vanden Hengel. Sonically the group offered delightful tunes that betrayed the influences of modern pop rock (e.g. Coldplay, Evermore, Something For Kate) and quirky indie (e.g. Architecture In Helsinki).

However, by this stage it was clear that they band had grown into a different kind of “worship band”. While spins on Christian Radio increased, precious few of the band’s songs made it into widespread congregational use (with the possible exceptions of their home churches). Is it possible that Garage Hymnal were making a genre switch from Worship Music to Christian Pop?

Perhaps in an attempt to ‘get back to their roots’, Garage Hymnal elected to make Album #4, Unity, a live album. Not only that, but it was to be recorded at St Stephen’s Anglican Church, a traditional edifice amid the hip grunginess of Newtown. Their website says that Unity...

“...offers twelve new songs for churches to sing together. Centred around the theme of our life together as a church, this album is a passionate prayer for unity...”

It is also a strong bid for mainstream acceptance of their worship vision.

While live worship albums have on the increase in recent years, following on the success of the Hillsong and Sovereign Grace teams, it is worth remembering that such recordings have been popular ever since the days of Thomas A. Dorsey. Yet bringing a set of new songs in front of a live audience and counting on their enthusiastic support is an act of courage. Judging by the applause, Garage Hymnal seemed to have had no trouble winning over their crowd on this occasion.

In keeping with its title, the lyrics on Unity abound with plural pronouns. The songs remind the listener that individual salvation has both contemporary and eternal communal applications. Worship is not restricted to my heart or voice, but only when the voices of the elect are joined together is Christ truly honoured. We live together, we worship together, we expect together...

Unity grounds part of its message in an homage to Christian worship of past generations. The adaption of Charles Wesley’s lyrics in “Psalm 140” isn’t revolutionary, but the theological focus on the uplifting of Christian affections through the work of Christ is most welcome (particularly following the recent visit of John Piper). “We Praise You” on the other hand taps into a more ancient stream through its reworking of the Te Deum, revealing a maturity and knowledge of worship history that is encouraging. Unfortunately, “Fairest Lord Jesus” (based on a 19th Century translation of lyrics from German Jesuits) has roots more in Romanticism than Scripture, and the winsome vocals make the song more than a little twee.

The original songs on offer follow a theme of faithful perseverance while awaiting eschatological redemption. “Unity” takes its cue from Jn 17:11 in applying Trinitarian relationships to the proper expression of Christian unity. “Stand Firm” reminds of the necessity of waiting together for the return of Christ in faith. The fact that there is no Penal Substitution song does not mean that the cross is absent, but rather the death and resurrection of Jesus are the unspoken foundation of present hope.

Musically, this album aims for high standards and unquestionably delivers. Arrangements are tight, with the piano and guitar interplay of Andy Judd and Greg Cooper tastefully done. Perhaps the greatest strength of the album is that the lyrics consistently scan well and are emotionally engaging. For example, the opening verse of “Sunday Came”:

Sunday came, darkness hides in shame
Desert plains, greet the morning sun
Mourn no more, feel the rising joy
Hearts revived, dust returns to life

Pure poetry!

So, if all that is true, why am I less than enthusiastic about this album?

First, there are sonic problems. Producer David Nicholas has an impressive pedigree, but the high ceilings of the recording location have produced a cavernous echo that results in a sonic wash which obscures many delicate musical moments (particularly in the quiet passages). While echo worked for Pink Floyd in Pompeii it doesn’t work so well for Garage Hymnal in Newtown. Another issue (common to live worship albums) is that the audience applause often intrudes on the beginning of songs, making it awkward for under-resourced churches who may rely on recorded music to lead their congregations.

But, more importantly, I am unconvinced that Unity has achieved its stated goal. Garage Hymnal wanted to make a Contemporary Worship album; what they made was another Christian Pop album.

A music co-ordinator who is keen to find appropriate material to introduce to their congregation will find the pickings on Unity sadly slim. Melodies are not well developed and are unnecessarily syncopated. The result is that those songs which are potentially singable would require too much work by a time-poor worship leader to rearrange with no guarantees that a congregation would pick up the tunes easily. The songs are undeniably catchy, but more “sing along in the car” than “worship together in church”. This is a shame, as Garage Hymnal is better than a Sydney Anglican version of Cold Chisel.

Garage Hymnal’s track record suggests that they have the potential to make a great contemporary worship album. Sadly, Unity ain’t it. As it is, this is still a fine collection of tunes that would be perfect for your next carpool up to Katoomba.

A Music Biography Spotters Guide

During a recent stroll through my local bookstore (not that I've had much time for recreational reading lately) I noticed the new Metallica biography was instore and made a mental note to purchase. This had me thinking that this type of tome was just the sort of thing that could easily end up in Christmas stockings within the coming month. It also occurred to me that as so many different types of music biographies exist in the world these days the novice might have difficulty in distinguishing the Good from the Bad or Ugly. As a conni-sewer of the genre, I hereby offer a quick guide to the types of music books likely to be found at your local vendor and some of the pros and cons associated with each.

The Authorised Biography
Sometimes labelled 'The Official Story of...' type. In this model an authorised voice (either a journalist or an employee of the artist) presents a history from the artist's point of view. Such a biography can be a useful source of information, particularly on early history and fun anecdotes from the road/studio. However, the downside is that controversies and conflicts can be downplayed or glossed over to the point of driving true fans to the point of insanity. If anyone presents you with The Official Authorized Biography of KISS it should be filed with the matches beside the fireplace.

The Unauthorised Biography
Composed with little (or no) cooperation from the artist or their management/record company. Well established facts are rehashed and vast amounts of speculation are entered into based on gutter journalism of the worst kind and witnesses that rarely stand close scrutiny. At best a few salient observations are made. Approach with caution.

The Tour Diary
Probably my favourite type. A particular album-tour period is taken in great detail. Lots of observations of the artists in situ. Casual conversations recounted verbatim. Side characters become personalities of their own. The artist becomes an actor in a production bigger than themselves that remains hidden from the audience. Cracks appear and myths are challenged. Robert Greenfield's A Journey Through America with the Rolling Stones and Ratso Sloane's On The Road with Bob Dylan are classics and should be in every serious music fan's library. Be aware, however, that the author is usually a willing participant in backstage antics including the consumption of (shock horror!) illicit substances that may or may not cloud their recollections.

The Group Effort
This is a format that has come into play since the late 90s and there should be more of them. Usually works for a band with strong personalities. Each member gives an independent account of the history to a coordinating writer who then takes portions from each to weave together a narrative. This can have interesting results when the recollections don't quite match up and the reader must make up their own mind. The Dirt by Motley Crue is a must-have in this category.

The Insider Out
A band member takes it upon themselves to 'tell their side of the story'. If the band member is a reputable character this can give a perpective on band dimensions that would never see the light of day. Stone Alone by Bill Wymann is particularly good despite now being 20 years old owing to Bill's obsessive-compulsive nature on keeping a copy of every bit of paper to do with the band. I see that Steve Adler from Guns 'n Roses has his book out now. I am less optimistic about his recollections.

The Outsider In
Not the artist themselves but a 'trusted insider' tells their story of life in the rock 'n roll world. The characters of the artists are observed over a long period and events are reported from an 'objective' veiwpoint. Some of these accounts can be tawdry, vindictive, or wildly inaccurate. Tony Sanchez's account of life with Keith Richards is all of the above. On the other hand stories can be told with a lot of both love and honesty. Richard Cole's Stairway To Heaven should be taken very seriously, as should Steve Parish's Home Before Daylight.

These represent the major categories. There will always be variations on the themes and additional works, particularly with the more 'cerebral' artists who tend to attract a fair amount of socio-rhetorical criticism (if you're into that sort of thing). Remember also that music biographies always operate under the 'when the legend becomes fact, print the legend' mentality. Happy reading!

Crash Through - Beautiful Ragged Mayhem

I have been distracted (again!!!) by the great maelstrom of study/work/family/etc. Yet, given that my great friends Crash Through will be launching their debut album next week (and I can't make the launch because of work) I thought the least I could do was to post a review of the bloody thing. Enjoy...

Out of the ashes of The Nood and The Pennydreadfuls comes the new project from guitarist/songwriter Phil Morgan. Crash Through straddles the proto-punk of The Stooges and The Dictators and the alternative/noise of The Pixies and Mudhoney with socially aware lyrics to boot. Sonically similar his earlier work, the intervening years along with the help of fellow Pennydreadfuls refugees Richard Schweizer (bass) and Tim McAlpin (drums) have helped to sharpen Morgan’s songwriting while still remaining on the edge. Now they have a debut album to show for their efforts.

Beautiful Ragged Mayhem is a worthy first effort from the band without being a world contender, even if that had been on their radar. Morgan has always a purist approach, eschewing anything that might be deemed ‘commercial’ or even ‘normal’ in favour of challenging both the senses and the minds of his audience. This is Shock ‘n Awe rock, no question.

The basic tracks were cut at TLS Studios with the overdubs and vocals put down at Morgan’s home studio. While a popular method these days the results can be mixed, and that is what seems to have happened here. The drums have a highly compressed timbre that jars with the ragged guitars. The kick drum pounds out of the speakers, the snare lies buried somewhere in the mix and the cowbell sounds more like an empty milk bottle. The lead vocals often sound dry, crying out for another drop of reverb, and also are occasionally placed too high in the mix. The bass sound is a tad muddy but otherwise acceptable. That being said, there are a good mix of guitar tones on the tracks, the acoustic guitars being done particularly well. However, Morgan’s love of experimentation often leads him to make unorthodox choices that result in some otherwise radio-worthy songs being kept in the ‘Too Raw’ pile. Maybe that was the intention. While far from being a tough listen, Beautiful Ragged Mayhem feels more like a sonic patchwork than the unified sound Morgan was hoping for. Doing more cuts live may preserved the punk ethos better.

So what of the songs themselves? There are some real gems on this record. ‘It’s All Backwards’, ‘I Know It’s Not Right’, and the title track get stuck in the mind easily and would be at home on a major label release (tidied up for the teenyboppers, of course). Faster tracks like ‘Nothing Can Slow Us Down’ and ‘Acronym Blues’ give a nod to their old school punk heroes. Surprisingly, the listener is treated to not only acoustic guitar but also organ on this record, both tones that Crash Through are not known for in their live shows. This ultimately goes to the heart of the Crash Through philosophy: Conformity is Treachery. If the listener is led to question their assumptions about what is Good, Acceptable or Safe in art then the song is a success even if the riff was fluffed a bit coming into the second chorus.

But herein lies the rub: when you produce art which is disconcerting and raw you leave yourself open to criticism. How raw is too raw? What would have happened if things had been polished up just that little bit more? Does it really matter if no-one likes it? A confronting performance will always alienate at least as many people as it attracts, most likely more. And it is questions like the above that ran through my head as I considered the musical performances on this record.

Morgan has always been a guitarist who has been driven by sonics and soul rather than technique. It doesn’t hurt that he has more than passable technique anyway and that he has continued to improve over the years. It comes as no surprise that his is the most confident performance on the record, with tight rhythm riffs and punchy solos in the old-skool punk tradition. His tones range from funkily clean to a heavy fuzz with plenty of buzzes, squeaks, and feedbacking yowls. Unfortunately, the rhythm section does not appear to be firing on all cylinders. Schweizer holds down a solid low end, but his habit of merely following the changes rather than trying to find a melodic counterpoint to the madly riffing Morgan means that there feels like something is lacking downstairs in the bass-ment. Listening to some old Greed Day albums wouldn’t hurt. McAlpin is a straight down the line, four-on-the-floor rocker with a personality not dissimilar from Animal on The Muppet Show. As such he sometimes seems to struggle with Morgan’s off-beat driven riffs and non-bluesy changes. All together, it sometimes feels as if Schweizer and McAlpin are trying to chase down Morgan rather than them all moving as a group. Sometimes the phrenetic nature of the music means that this is not a problem, but at places it comes drastically unstuck. Though it pains me to say it, a low point of the record is the long-standing live favourite ‘Milk Crate’. A psychedelic funk rocker with an obscene sing-along refrain, both the beat and the tempo appear to have been lost somewhere in the studio process. The song appears rushed, the guitar and drums out of step (a mortal sin in the Church of Funk) and the bass fails to fill sonic gaps in the verses.

Is Beautiful Ragged Mayhem then the magnum opus of Mr Phil Morgan? The short answer is No, but this sells the album drastically short. Crash Through have put together a fine work on their own terms rather than chasing commercial or critical validity. As with any project of this nature, this will inevitably lead to aspects that will be filed in the Could Have Been Done Better folder. Yet the high points, when they do come, show remarkable accomplishment and a true artistic vision. Crash Through are a band of great potential both onstage and in the studio. To have put out this type of record in the current climate where all artists are airbrushed and fashion styles to within an inch on their life takes guts. Whatever the sales figures, Crash Through should look upon their debut album as a success and press on to greater glories. The General Public, however, would be wise to take my advice and jump on the Crash Through train now, if only for the satisfaction of saying you were into them before they turned slick and commercial.

Crash Through launch their debut album at the Annandale Hotel on Friday September 17.

www.crashthrough.com.au