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Fred Mills's Chugchanga-L Poll 2001 Entry
Fr: Fred Mills
(new address and email) 220 Leak Ave
Wadesboro NC 28170
Fmills3@hotmail.com
Magnet, No Depression, Ice, Stereophile, Ptolemaic Terrascope, Goldmine, New Times, Creative Loafing
Lucinda Williams, Essence (Lost Highway)
Beachwood Sparks, Once We Were Trees (Sub Pop)
Joe Strummer & the Mescaleros, Global A Go Go (Hellcat)
Bob Dylan, Love and Theft (Columbia)
Mogwai, The Rock Action (Matador)
Tindersticks, Can Our Love... (Beggars Banquet)
Steve Wynn, Here Come the Miracles (Innerstate)
New Order, Get Ready (Reprise)
Mink Lungs, The Better Button (Arena Rock)
Acid Mothers Temple & the Melting Paraiso U.F.O., New Geocentric World (Squealer)
HONORABLE MENTIONS:
Buddy & Julie Miller (Hightone)
Beatless, Life Mirrors (Ubiquity)
White Stripes, White Blood Cells (Sympathy)
Bill Frisell with Dave Holland and Elvin Jones (Nonesuch)
Bjork, Vespertine (Elektra)
Alejandro Escovedo, A Man Under the Influence (Bloodshot)
Radiohead, Amnesiac (Capitol)
Jah Wobble & Bill Laswell, Radioaxiom: A Dub Transmission (Axiom/Palm)
Spiritualized, Let It Come Down (Arista)
Truby Trio, D.J. Kicks (!K7)
REISSUES: The first three Neu! albums (Astralwerks) and the four Firesign Theater albums (Sony Legacy). Also: Velvet Underground, Bootleg Series Volume One: The Quine Tapes (Polydor); Miles Davis ,Live at the Fillmore East 7 March 1970: It's About That Time and The Complete In A Silent Way Sessions (both Sony); James Brown, Live at the Apollo Vol. 2 (Polydor); Creedence Clearwater Revival (6-CD box on Fantasy); Pete Townshend Scoop 3 (Eel Pie); Various Artists, Funkaphonix Vols. 1 - 3 (Funkaphonix); Buffalo Springfield, Box Set (Rhino); Various Artists, Nuggets 2 (Rhino); Eastern Dark, Where Are All the Single Girls? (Half A Cow); Scientists, Blood Red River '82 - '84 (Citadel/Sympathy For the Record Industry).
MILLS TOP TEN ALBUMS COMMENTS:
Lucinda Williams, Essence (Lost Highway) For a quote/unquote "alt-country rec," this is about as uncliched as they come, an intimate, oftentimes fearless portrayal of emotional stasis and how it can bring one's life to a shuddering halt. It's also erotic as hell - "C'mon baby, let me taste your stuff," Williams purrs, as if she were a phone-sex operator dialing in from somewhere down on Main Street. And sonically, it's got an uncommon potency and heft that artists, it must be said, rarely chance upon twice. Incredibly, she matched the album point-for-point, and then some, in concert - nearly a three hour show. Conjuring demons and wizards and ghosts and even a few extant personalities, and essaying her entire career to date, it was bloodsugarsexmagiccrazysexycool. Hell, the lady spent more time thanking her road crew and lighting techs than her band during the intros - how cool is that?!?
Beachwood Sparks, Once We Were Trees (Sub Pop) As with Roger McGuinn's cosmic cowboy musings and Gram Parson's recastings of Hank, Merle and Johnny as arbiters of the national conscience, the Sparks have a hybrid sound that's suffused in sincerity and soulfulness. It only coincidentally includes the twang, hum and chuckle of Telecaster, pedal steel and banjo, by the way; the band could've just easily picked up samplers and synths. Herein observe post-teenage symphonies to God performed with philosophical reserve and instrumental abandon
Joe Strummer & the Mescaleros, Global A Go Go (Hellcat) Grandpa or godfather? Nope. Spokesman for a generation? Not a chance; Strummer himself told me that folks can "hose off" if that's their take on him. Instead, the ex-Clash mainman opts for a less-restrictive mantle of musical spelunker, digging deep for everything from Afro-pop to Middle Eastern trance-rock to spliff-happy dub 'n' rocksteady, all deftly integrated into a compelling framework of fiery, take-no-prisoners punk rock. Socially-pungent lyric of the year, courtesy Mr. S: "God sure baked a lot of fruitcake, baby!" And like Lucinda Williams, Strummer more than matched himself in concert, adding a hefty does of Clash classics and shoulda-beens, super-heavy on the dub-roots. Clearly, a man rejuvenated over the past few years.
Bob Dylan, Love and Theft (Columbia) As musically energized as it is lyrically rustic and quirky, the album voted Most Likely To Top All Critics' Lists also has an unavoidable apocalyptic tone that seems downright creepy when your realize that it was released on Sept. 11. "High Water (For Charley Patton)," in particular, cuts to the bone: "Don't know what I'm gonna do/ 'Don't reach out for me,' she said/ 'Can't you see I'm drowning, too?'/ It's rough out there/ High water everywhere."
Mogwai, The Rock Action (Matador) So monumentally magisterial, its musical alchemy signifies it as no less than the post-post-rock era's Sgt. Pet Sounds' Lonely Hearts Club Band, an entire daydream nation's worth of Nu-Psych. Scrims of winnowing keyboards, swaying strings, peripatetic fretboard meanderings and sweet choirs contrast with massed-crescendo, horns/Mellotron/guitar soundscapes, constantly prodding the listener's emotions into states as suggestive as a TM session with the Maharishi.
Tindersticks, Can Our Love... (Beggars Banquet) Laying aside some of their previous forays into moody psych- and flamenco-pop in favor of the vintage sounds of Motown, Philly and Memphis, the 'sticks sculpted a passionate evocation of connubial bliss and illicit release. Singer Stuart Staples comes on like Al Green, pulls back like Bryan Ferry then offers consolation like Curtis Mayfield. In the face of today's painfully formulaic R&B/hip-hop - Destiny's Child? R. Kelly? Please. - these white Brits come off as the most soulful act on the planet.
Steve Wynn, Here Come the Miracles (Innerstate) In the same year that his unqualified early classic saw a remastered/expanded reissue (the Dream Syndicate's Days of Wine and Roses) Wynn unexpected hunkered down in Tucson and went about painting his masterpiece. Rock noir at its best, baked in the heat of the unforgiving Lower Sonoran sun and bursting forth with edgy, lyrically rich, punk-inspired heavy garage.
New Order, Get Ready (Reprise). Why and how the band rediscovered its inner rock 'n' roll child - more accurately, its inner Power, Corruption and Lies - one can only speculate. But by allowing the natural playfulness, cynicism and tunefulness that has marked its finest moments in the past to newly resurface on tracks such as the mighty sequencers-and-riffs "Crystal" and "60 Miles An Hour," well, New Order arrived at the only comeback this year (not counting Leonard Cohen's) that didn't, um, suck.
Mink Lungs, The Better Button (Arena Rock) Not only did this Brooklyn band serve up the year's most thumpingest tune ("Think Of Me," a cynical but jangly kiss-off number that marries Flamin' Groovies and Byrds to Moby Grape and Guided By Voices), they've got the stage show to back up the album. Prog-rock, powerpop, hula-hoops and a grand finale that's equal parts Alice Cooper, fundamentalist tent-revival schtick and the bloody prom scene from Carrie - ladies and germs, I give you the Mink Lungs.
Acid Mothers Temple & the Melting Paraiso U.F.O., New Geocentric World (Squealer) This year I rediscovered my inner acid-head - must have been hanging around with all those E-gobbling kids at the Tucson record store before I moved back to NC and got the urge to go hunting for magic mushrooms down in the next state - and everyone's fave proprietors of the Nips 'R Us toy store were my soundtrack. By December I'd covered a lot of lost ground and picked up at least 10 Acid Mothers-related artifacts, and this one, issued domestically, made for a good jumping-off point. Drones, tones, phones and sonic pheromones, plus some of the most damaged guitar fretwork ever, courtesy one M. Kawabata.
MILLS INDUSTRY COMMENTS...
One of those years in which mere words somehow don't seem to possess the gravity they might normally have during the annual critical post-mortem, 2001 instead will be remembered as a year in people began to perceive music along lines less wallpaperish, more crucial to surviving on a day to day basis. Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the show? Music matters aside, there were also some interesting words, deeds, admissions and omissions this year that reaffirmed rock 'n' roll's rebellious, tragic, absurdist and occasional boneheaded streaks...
THE DEATH OF ROCK 'N' ROLL? On Sept. 14, some 72 hours into news reports, I abruptly packed up my wife and 8-month old son and headed as deep into the mountains and as far away from my TV as I could drive. The vacation helped, but a month later I again found myself in a profound state of disconnect and depression, this time of my own choosing. Wandering around Ground Zero, seeing the various memorials and walls plastered with photos of the departed, and helplessly trying to gauge the magnitude of things, I had to ask myself, can rock 'n' roll possibly mean anything now in the face of all this? The next afternoon I got my answer. Standing in a hotel corridor adjacent to the panel meeting rooms at this year's CMJ Music Marathon, I watched a huge buffet for a different convention, some non-music corporate bash, being laid out in the same corridor. Suddenly into the hallway spilled legions of unkempt indie-rock types - who immediately glommed onto the food and drink spread. From a doorway to my left a well-dressed matron appears, turns redder than the cover of a Slayer album and shrieks, "These PEOPLE are not SUPPOSED to be eating OUR food -- it's HALF-GONE already!" Whoo-hah - that was a rock 'n' roll moment. Sorry lady, but everyone's on the guest list today. And I think we're gonna be all right.
ROCK CRITIC OF THE YEAR: Beck, writing in Vanity Fair's annual "Music Issue" about his 50 all-time favorite album covers, sagely observed, "I generally find these 'best of' lists, compiling their way into our lives with items pronounced valid and relevant in the eyes of one, to represent little more than the compiler's slanted sensibility." From there Mr. Hansen, er, waxed beatifically on the sleeve merits of Bowie's Pinups, Duran Duran's Rio, The Damned's Damned Damned Damned, Roxy Music's Country Life, etc. (Ever the tit-man, Beck also expressed appreciation for the Scorpions' Lovedrive.) Speaking for all my fellow journos who have over the years performed occasional reviewing chores while gazing at the covers and never actually cracking the plastic (ups the promo resale value, natch), it's nice to be vindicated.
[Runner Up: Dave Marsh/Tim Stegall (tie), for the mini-feud that erupted between the Marsh and former rock scribe/current Napalm Stars guitarist. Marsh, in making his selections from this year's Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame nominees, did not pick The Ramones, commenting in an editorial, "Despite the black leather jackets and a clever first album, the Ramones were a musical void. That static vision of rock'n'roll isn't even a spectacular dead-end like the ones that the nominated but spurned Sex Pistols and the unnominated Stooges made an art of smashing into. OK, Joey Ramone died. Fred Smith and Rob Tyner dying didn't get the MC5, who were 100 times as great a band, into the Hall. It's even more ridiculous that the Ramones come into the Hall at the expense of twice-unelected Patti Smith, the most important New York punk artist. This is not just nit-picking or a case of de gustibus, either. Would the Ramones have had a slot on the ballot, let alone been inducted right away, if Joey Ramone were today surviving on kidney dialysis? Of course not." Stegall spotted the editorial and took grave issue with Marsh, writing the senior critic thusly: "Your having championed the Five and the Stooges should have prepared you for the Ramones' obvious place in those bands' line of succession. And how can you discount the influential ripple effect the Ramones had on budding rock musicians the world over, one that continues to this day? God, the fact that you wrote such a phenomenal history of 'Louie Louie' ALONE should speak reams about why your hateful, ill-informed remarks are so puzzling! You're right - it is sickeningly obvious the Ramones' induction is a tasteless sympathy vote, as was the Velvet Underground's induction in the wake of Sterling Morrison's death. Anyone from that sphere of rock doesn't seem to merit inclusion unless someone dies, which is why the R'N'R Hall Of Fame is generally seen as a joke in certain circles. But the democratizing effect they had, as well as the instant classic status of a ridiculous number of their tunes, makes the Ramones as classic a rock 'n' roll band as anyone." Marsh replied to Stegall, Stegall replied in turn, etc. etc. -- one of the best Old School Vs. New School punk rock moments in recent memory, with no clear winner, but a great exchange just the same. (Meanwhile, writing from somewhere on Mars was David Byrne who upon being congratulated by critic Chuck Klosterman -- author of the excellent roccrit book Fargo Rock City-- on his erstwhile combo The Talking Heads' selection for RNRHOF induction honors, commented "It's good to be indicted. I knew I'd get caught one of these days. Guess it's time to get the big suit out of the closet.")]
BEST "WE CAN BE HEROES" MOMENT: Neil Young, who performed a heart-rending version of John Lennon's "Imagine" on a candlelit stage during the Sept. 21 TV broadcast America: A Tribute To Heroes.
[Runner-Up: Neil Young . If that weren't enough, in mid-December Young serviced U.S. radio stations - at his own expense, and not tied to any current promotion of his own product - with a new CDR single entitled "Let's Roll" which paid tribute to those who lost their lives in the 9-11 tragedy.]
BEST "WE CAN BE VILLAINS" MOMENT: U2, who in a monumental public relations misfire, granted mega-chain Best Buy an exclusive two-week window to sell its new concert DVD Elevation 2001 before other retailers. Response was swift, with many indie stores and small chains subsequently refusing to stock the DVD even during the make-or-break holiday season. Wrote one such small retailer in CMJ's weekly industry tip sheet, neatly linking the U2-Best Buy firestorm with the ongoing post-Napster brouhaha "Consumers respond to simplicity, not hurdles to access... The natural response is to raise their middle finger and elect to take all they can get for free, the rest be damned."
[Runner-Up: The R.I.A.A. , for attempting to sneak language into a proposed anti-terrorism bill in Congress. Had the piggyback not been headed off by the Senate's Judiciary Committee, it would have given the organization explicit authority to hack and disable the computers of anyone suspected of criminal behavior, i.e., uploading/downloading copyrighted material with shareware programs. Hey, we always knew that Napster and their ilk were unpatriotic - treasonous, in fact. Wrote Dave Marsh of the incident, "The RIAA, which lies about as well as six-year-old holding a baseball in front of a broken window, insists that it just wanted to insert another of its famed 'technical corrections.' The new one, again stuck in without a smidgen of public debate and in essence, on the backs of the thousands murdered in the 9 11 attacks, pissed off everybody but Tommy Mottola and Doug Morris. One Republican legislative aide referred to the RIAA's 'vigilantism,' and Virginia Congressman Rick Boucher, who's about as hostile to big business as I am to Bruce Springsteen, read the recording lobbyists the riot act in an interview with Billboard." The only thing missing from this juicy brouhaha was a strip treatment of the incident in upstart Web 'toon "Get Your War On" (www.mnftiu.cc/mnftiu.cc/war.html ), easily the funniest of all the post-911 satires.]
DON'T LET THE MAN KEEP YOU DOWN. Even as Judge Marilyn Patel was injunctively shutting down Napster she was chiding the record biz for the manner in which proposals for digital distribution were drifting towards, as the Nuge might put it, a stranglehold, baby. "It looks bad, sounds bad, smells bad," Patel tut-tutted. Meanwhile out in the real world, music buffs were saying "Nurtz!" to subscription models and continued getting their digital fixes via Audiogalaxy, Gnutella and other consumer-friendly entities - some of which, such as www.U2bloodredsky.com and www.murmurs.com (U2 and REM fan sites, respectively), even operated without interference from, and thereby under the implicit sanction of, the artists themselves. Expect more industry lawsuits to pepper 2002. Elsewhere, when major labels announced plans to install encryption software on CDs to thwart home burners - and an encrypted independent release by country "superstar" Charley Pride in fact actually snuck onto the market! -- a number of lawsuits were promptly filed, citing copyright laws that clearly allow people to make personal-use, non-commercial copies for themselves under most normal, reasonable circumstances (i.e., folks that aren't gonna turn around and go flog a stack of Charley Pride CDs from a Manhattan kiosk).
IS THAT THE ENTIRE COUNT BASIE ORCHESTRA IN YOUR PANTS, OR IS YOUR LAPTOP JUST GLAD TO SEE ME? AWARD: Four Tet, Pause (Domino) and Fennesz, Endless Summer (Mego), for reviving the art of electronica-as-organica. The former processed harps, acoustic guitars and children's voices beyond recognition and then back again through digital reconfiguration, while the latter metaphorically took the sandy beaches, caught a wave or two, and hung ten with the Beach Boys, the Ventures and Jan & Dean, all the while playing the glitch-and-paste game like nobody's business.
TOP REISSUE YOU DIDN'T HEAR: Donny Hathaway, Live (Label M) It was the best of years for reissues (the first three Neu! albums, the last-word Dylan-Band "Basement Tapes" box A Tree With Roots, the expanded/remastered James Brown Live At The Apollo Vol. 2, etc.), but it was also the worst of years as bottom-line politics frequently overrode archival aesthetics. Evidence? This transcendent concert set from late soul king Hathaway. Not to be confused with a similarly-titled earlier album, it was recorded in August and October of 1971 at Hollywood's Troubadour and NYC's Bitter End and features a smokin' version of Hathaway signature funk-jazz classic "The Ghetto" alongside covers of "What's Goin' On" and "Jealous Guy." Then literally on the eve of its September release, the record company, Label M, had its plug pulled, leaving the CD in limbo.
[Runner-Up: While I'm tempted to mention a slew of underground bootlegs since boots are bigger now than they have been in history, even more prevalent than during the heady days of the European "protection gap" in the early '90s, I'll have to defer in favor of everything on Rhino Handmade, the internet-only archival imprint of Rhino. While you didn't see these in stores or anywhere, for that matter, unless you had a computer, they were available for the picking, and boy, did some of us pick! Included were such goodies as The Fugs Electromagnetic Steamboat: The Reprise Recordings (a 3-CD set), Malo Celebracion! (four discs, in a cool hinged box) and not one but two double-disc live sets from The Doors, namely, Live at the Aquarius Theatre: The First Performance and The Second Performance. Sadly, as the year came to a close, rumors circulated that Rhino was shuttering Handmade, bringing to an end a brief but storied run of authorized bootlegs from the likes of Tim Buckley, The Monkees, Captain Beefheart, Jo Jo Gunne, DEVO, the Masked Marauders, Blue Oyster Cult, and even Jack Webb and Sonny Bono.]
THE KEITH MOON MEMORIAL AWARD: While Spiritualized got all the headlines for its (admittedly excellent) Let It Come Down CD -- which included a reworking of "Lord Can You Hear Me," originally penned during S-ized leader Jason Pierce's Spacemen 3 days -- it took Pierce's erstwhile bandmate Pete Kember, aka Sonic Boom, to go looking for the real heart of rock 'n' roll on the highways and byways and in the motel rooms and swimming pools of Middle America. Touring with nary a new record to promote (or, for that matter, a U.S. label to underwrite the tour), Mr. Boom and his band Spectrum spent November in the States performing a set cheekily titled "Songs The Spacemen Taught Us" comprising mostly Spacemen 3 classics. The band was enthusiastically received, too - save by one motor lodge's desk clerk in rural North Carolina who took exception to the band's decidedly foggy, somewhat uncontrollable demeanor and called the cops. Reportedly, Spectrum was escorted from the Tarheel State a few ounces of weed (and Lord knows how much powder and pills) lighter, leaving the notoriously pro-drug Kember to do some serious scavenging down Route 66 for his, ahem, kicks.
[Runner-Up: Mariah Carey, who worked really hard a whole lot, wrote some funny stuff on her website, took off her clothes in front of Carson Daly, then vacationed at the funny farm. Oddly, the publicity strategy failed to save her movie Glitter and the album of the same name from tanking. As I write this, the lead headline at Billboard.com concerns how Virgin-EMI is seeking to buy Carey out of her contract as the label estimates she's lost them in the neighborhood of $10 mil already.]
MARIAH MELTDOWN TO COST $23 MIL IN GOV'T BAILOUT. Despite music industry doomsday rhetoric ("home CD burning is killing the music business"), at the time of this writing, actual year-to-date CD sales are UP nearly 2% from last year; it's only when you factor in the cumulative cassette and CD single sales stats that you see the overall figures go down, and as we all know, the industry has been steadily de-emphasizing cassettes and singles (just like it helped kill off vinyl for an extended spell), so drops in those two areas were to be expected. In other words, the downswings in cassette and singles sales, by -35.8% and -39.6% respectively, serve to artificially deflate the overall picture. And don't let the labels pretend that Sept. 11 actually hurt them - quite the opposite. One interesting Sept. 11-related factoid I spotted in the media was that day-of and day-after music sales spiked, and the rate of people having unprotected sex has also, er, risen. Those of you old enough to remember the Cuban Missile Crisis understand what's going on. Speaking of economic panic, why do all those cool bands get dropped while Mariah Carey (see above) gets a new record deal and a movie? To phrase it in Clintonese, [I]It's the shareholders, stupid![p] The days are long gone when companies would hang tough while the next Springsteen developed his "craft" over several albums. People want their profits NOW, tallied on a quarterly basis. Buh-bye, Wilco.
2001 HOT TREND YOU WON'T SEE IN ROLLING STONE'S "HOT ISSUE": Unpaid employees. While having interns to do all your grunt work goes back to the days of the Roman senate's Fellatius Heraclitus, this year even the tiniest of indie labels got into the act, luring "enthusiastic, motivated and hard-working people with a desire to learn the music business from the inside out." Uh-huh. In a similar vein, upping the crap quotient this year were those ubiquitous "street teams" who fan out to gigs, campuses and record stores and pester you with scraps of cardboard and crummy song-snippet CD samplers.
WELL, IT'S NOT QUITE GARTH BROOKS AT THE VIEWERS CHOICE AWARDS BUT...: P.J. Harvey won the prestigious Mercury Music Prize in the UK for her 2000 album Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea, while Sigur Ros took top honors at the first annual U.S. Shortlist Prize, which is probably the least interesting name for an award since "Viewers Choice" (doesn't bode well for the years to come).
DUET OF THE YEAR: (tie) Polly Jean Harvey & Giant Sand; Polly Jean Harvey & Vincent Gallo. On April 30, Giant Sand was headlining a benefit concert for Tucson's KXCI-FM. The show also included Al Perry & The Cattle, Calexico and Sand mainman Howe Gelb doing a solo set. At the end of Gelb's segment his Zen went into hyperspace when he nodded at a certain petite raven-haired beauty standing beside the stage. "Ladies and Gentlemen - Polly." Duly introduced, P.J. Harvey settled down on a stool beside Gelb, picked up his red Gretch guitar, and the duo proceeded to ruminate at length upon "Plants and Rags" from Harvey's album Dry. The room was in shock, to say the least. (Harvey's band had opened for U2 the night before in Phoenix; she came down to Tucson after the show - minus her band - to visit with the Gelb family and see the Giant Sand gig. Giant Sand actually opened for her in Europe earlier this year.) Then later, midway into Giant Sand's set, Polly Jean appeared at the microphone again, red guitar strapped on tight, and soon enough the call-and-response vocals between her and Gelb emerged from the din to produce a whiff of familiarity and a noticeable rise in the room temperature, not to mention spontaneous pogoing: it was X's "Johnny Hit And Run Paulene," done up raucously and absolutely true to the original's punk spirit. (A couple of months later, while interviewing John Doe, I told him about it and he nearly flipped: "Get out of here! I am just fucking floored! [laughing] Now why doesn't she call me up and have me open her shows?") Look for a studio recording of P.J. and Giant Sand doing the X tune, along with a version of her own "Plants and Rags," on the forthcoming Sand album Cover Magazine. And while Gelb advises me that if Polly were still an item with Nick Cave he and his wife (they are happily married and have a very cool young son, thank you) might seriously consider holding a "key party," as it turns out, La Harvey is now rumored to be doing some major canoodling with Actor/Director/Musician Vincent Gallo. Warp Records' resident renaissance man (Gallo issued the excellent folkatronic album When this year) has been spotted on P.J.'s arm of late, and in a recent Q magazine interview, she would neither confirm or deny the dalliance, but was noticeably effusive to the point of being over the top in her praise of the man's artistic, err, prowess. Can a musical mating be far behind?
FAREWELL, FAREWELL: Joey Ramone took his final bow in April and also took the lion's share of headlines, but many others passed away this year as well, some of them far too prematurely.
Included was Michael Karoli of Can, who died unexpectedly in November. A poorly kept secret in the music industry was that Karoli had been undergoing cancer treatment back in 1999. Karoli had, in recent years, recorded with numerous artists, including Irmin Schmidt, Holger Czukay and former Can vocalist Damo Suzuki; he was a frequent touring member of Suzuki's Network band as well. He'd also assembled a band he dubbed Sofortkontakt!, in which he played guitar, violin and cello, that he unveiled at The Can Concerts in Germany in '99 as part of the 30th anniversary celebration of Can. Regarding the anniversary, Karoli was largely responsible for the bulk of the work on the video and CD portions of 1999's Can Box archival project, in particular spending many hours going over vintage, often deteriorating, live audio tapes of Can in its concert heyday. Beyond that, Karoli also was constantly practicing and recording, working at various times on several different solo recordings, one such project featuring Jaki Liebezeit on drums. Speaking to me in '99, Karoli was understated and possessed of a subtle wit, yet in his soft accent and gentleman's charm, he also emerged as a proud man. Reflecting upon Can and the group's estimable legacy, he claimed, "I am not nostalgic. But... I am pleasantly surprised at how good we were as a live group. It wasn't rock, it was something else." Testimony to how much Karoli was loved and the extent of his musical impact can be found at the official Can website (www.spoonrecords.com ). In addition to a moving poem/eulogy posted by Can's first vocalist Malcolm Mooney, hundreds of testimonials from fans also appear, many of which bear the simple but sincere words, "Thank you, Michael, for the music."
Last December there was Pops Staples, Robert Buck, Eddy Shaver and Kirsty MacColl; then in January we lost ex-Cramps guitarist Bryan Gregory, Beat Poet Gregory Corso and soul singer James "The Dark End of the Street" Carr; February, sonic fretboard philosopher John Fahey; March, Papa John Phillips; April, guitarist Sandy Bull, Ed "Big Daddy" Roth; May, original Pretty Things guitarist Brian Pendleton; June, John Hartford, John Lee Hooker; July, Leon Wilkeson (Lynyrd Skynyrd), flamboyant soul singer Ernie K. Doe, Chet Atkins, reclusive folk legend Fred Neil, BBC electronic wizardess Delia Derbyshire, folk singer/activist Mimi Farina (Joan Baez' sister); August, R.O.I.R. label founder-maverick Neil Cooper; September, Atari Teenage Riot co-founder Carl Crack, Canned Heat bassist/deejay/archivist Richard Hite; October, Acetone's Richie Lee, Warp Records impresario Rob Mitchell and "primitive artist'/R.E.M. confidante Rev. Howard Finster; November, Can guitarist Michael Karoli, Merry Prankster Ken Kesey, George Harrison; and in December, soulman Rufus Thomas, rock loon Lance Loud, Bianca Halstead (Betty Blowtorch), Stuart Adamson (Big Country).
Also, a number of print or online sources of information bit the dust. Some, like The Bob (for whom I wrote and enjoyed every minute of it) had been on life support for some time, others were given mercy killings (Raygun), and some were fairly useless (Bikini). And I must add that while Revolver does not appear on this list, by all rights it should, given its initial promise (it could have turned into an American Mojo) and its subsequent transformation into another tired, hackneyed metal rag (and zine watchers, Alternative Press seems destined for the same fate!). Still, it's always sad to know that one more critical voice has been silenced: Revolution, The Bob, Ray Gun, Bikini, Huh, Warp, Smug, Speak, Puncture, Guitar, Fix, Sweater, Thrasher, Milk, Popwatch,Bam, The Rocket. High-traffic websites that folded: Addicted to Noise, Wall of Sound, Musicplayer.com, Icast, Checkout.com, Beer.com, Sidewalk, Gigmania, Gogogorilla.com.
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