Psychozoic Hymnal 5 - 80's
The Fall
The stated aim was “repetition” but, if that was all, a drum machine or metronome would have done the job. The dynamic was a detailed repetition, the guitar twanged and slashed, while electronic/found‐instruments groaned off‐harmonic. Though he’d never admit it, Mark E. Smith knew the advantage of a good drummer, and most every track has instrumental shape. This noise derived from some mix of Germanic rock and avant‐garde art, which Smith knew well. Through it all he ran his you‐know‐it constructivist lyrics. Home truths have no simple resolution, and so the rule, “For God’s sake, don’t solo”
Butthole Surfers
They recorded a track ‘Hay’ with disco sound effects that bind the countryside to microwave meals and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. They built a Donna Summer anthem from emotional masocism. They replayed Black Sabbath as vengance interspaced with Hawkwindish regret. Which sounds Art School, except the drums were the heavy throb of an engine; and between the shrieks and howls, as Lester Bangs said of Jimi Hendrix, the guitarist’s fingers turned into celery. From distance it’s tricky to tell if they warded with, or drew from, the drugs. They hired Led Zeppelin’s bassist to grind in drama. The band name shafted them from the off, so you’d hope that was trauma. They’ll never make the muso mags, which is some kind of tribute. Never make the charts, either. Then, briefly, they did. The times had much to answer for
Saccharine Trust
…who were angular to anyone else’s version of a Jazz–Rock fusion. With lounge chords about him, singer Jack Brewer tended to the sarcastic—without, he made sarcastic with pop staples. The rhythm section turned down the bass for simple rock riffs, then passed notes like a bureaucracy, which allowed them to be remarkably flexible. All the while guitarist Joe Biaza played clean, often single‐note lines, with a bare minimum of overdrive, which he braced with only the most sparing of extra notes to show what he was thinking on. What is missing? Funk‐power, a cymbalic drummer, wah effects, endless triplets, dandy threads… the list goes on. But it means they could rock while they traced jazz lines—which nobody else can. Variable song structures though—they did get carried away some.
Flipper
To have a sharp rhythm section which includes a weighed dose of heavy must be a start for any rock band. But what if you’re Flipper? The idea was to repeat the figure, or ‘riff’, until everyone ran out of ideas. With no chorus, verse, solo, anything (fans may claim otherwise). Now, that takes a rhythm section. Especially if the melody, as J.C. calls it, ‘tortures the guitars for the sounds that matter’, and the vocal is a guy shouting lines, or chants, which may spin off as cackles or improvised slogans. Not without precedent, Ten Years After and some rock boogie bands had something of the same, but never with this obsessed focus. The handful of Stateside reviewers take them for Art‐Punk. Their handful of fans take them for a statement of rock form
Minutemen
The Minutemen sang at the speed out‐of‐towners speak, which if not double‐time is fast, and makes other melody seem like a drag. Even within one minute this leaves time to fill, so the cut‐guitars turned the phrase‐end lick into a challenging statement—or space for the guitars, both of them, to hop about at each other. Guitars memorable, because sometimes, depending what they thought of the issue, they’d mutter or shout lyrics. Verses, if there, slot in without climax. They also favoured a dash‐dot rhythm, with the snap of a bass‐snare hit. Since rhythm was up top, drummer George Hurley pinned this with cranky stop‐start commentary. With the action in the beats, the stable, square pace is in conventional terms undancable, requires synapse‐readjustment to listen and is near‐impossible to segue. Alongside their modesty, they’ll never get stars in the pavement or a hit single… but the world is better for them
No Means No
The press dutifully followed them without grip. Exhibit: the hapless attempts at calling “influence”—on who? If you can duck the subject, the base operation is demonstrated by “The Tower”, a fast rhythm riff in any old time‐signature that felt right, followed by stabs of punctuation. The guitarist clamps down in in unison, sometimes spluttering or scrawling comment on forthcoming engagement. There was a deep well of two and three note melody in this, and permutations in the instrumental reconstructions. So much so, they never used extra instruments, or much by way of borrowed styles—the cover versions sound like something they wrote one night on a cigarette packet. They used pop truths like singing, vocal harmony and basic chords for crude musical purpose, same as they delivered intellectual subjects with slease and/or anger