Recorded in Paolo Alto, California, in 1979, Nazibily Werewoelfen is a buzz-saw of a live bootleg. Lux Interior must be one of the most electrifying performers in rock and roll history, like a zombie Jerry Lee Lewis with a Nazi fetish. People talk about Iggy Pop’s antics, Lux puts him to shame and I reckon Lux looks better naked too.

Nazibily Werewoelfen was released on vinyl way back when and it’s out of production on that format now. You can still buy CD rips of the vinyl but something doesn’t seem right about that to me. Anyway, there’s some tomfoolery going on with this bootleg, each track has been renamed to fit the Nazi schema implied in the title. Here’s the tracklist:

1. The Gas I Like (The Way I Walk)
2. Everybody Dying Tonight (Everybody’s Movin’)
3. Getstapo (Domino)
4. Stuka In My Pocket (Rocket In My Pocket)
5. Human Cry (Human Fly)
6. Rockin Bones/Heil! (Rockin’ BonesRockin’ Bones)
7. I Was A Nazi Werwolf (I Was A Teenage Werewolf)

My favourite name has got to be Stuka in my pocket, it sounds like a Lenny Bruce joke.

 

The recordings aren’t the best quality, but for a live bootleg there isn’t much to complain about. Human Fly sounds huge, Lux’s vocals are brought down in the mix and the two guitars are left to busy around like demented bluebottles. It may have been recorded live, but I’m not sure if Nazibily Werewoelfen was recorded at a show, there’s no crowd noise and there’s none of Lux’s normal deranged interaction with his audience. Still, this is one of the best Cramps bootlegs- and there are hundreds of them. I’ve been listening to it on a youtube playlist, which you can find here.

 

Every Thursday we pick 5 songs that you need to hear NOW!

Waylon Thornton and the Heavy Hands- Vulture Funk

Small-town man, big-time creep, Waylon Thornton is a prolific rock and roll nut from Florida. Dirty Pillows recently sent over a compilation cassette of the greatest hits from his many albums, most of which are available through his bandcamp. The guy must be releasing 5 a year. Vulture Funk is exactly that: it sounds like a scavenger bopping through the wilderness in a cut-off denim jacket with a scull on the back. Quite an achievement from a 1:19 instrumental. The whole EP is great, listen to it here.

 

Wild Billy Childish and the Spartan Dreggs

Billy Childish and Neil Palmer sing to Billy’s nipper Scout. Scout-a-Boo is from the Spartan Dreggs’ latest LP Forensic RnB, an album that  was abundant in references to literature, history and art. The boys know their stuff. Here, Scout is taken on a journey across Africa and into our dreams. There’s something transcendental going on here too, with Neil singing “she’s never in when she’s out” and “when she left she still wasn’t there”. I love this because it reminds me that life was so fun when I was a kid. Sweet song.

The Doors- LA Woman

2012 is the 40th year since The Doors released LA Woman. I watched the documentary celebrating the fact, called Mr. Mojo Risin’, and it really turned me on to LA Woman: the album, the song and this video. The footage of The Doors from this era is captivating: not so much the live footage (which is incredible, but I’ve seen it too much I guess) but the footage of the band hanging out and driving round Southern California or wherever, that stuff is magical. Then there’s the song: 4 musicians at the top of their game belting it out in a few takes. Mr. Mojo Risin’ forever.

Cass McCombs- County Line

I’m continually impressed by Cass McCombs. County Line, off Wit’d End, felt like it was from another time. It’s not often you come across a songwriter that can express themselves so succinctly and with such beauty. County Line takes its lead from the spatial tradition of American songwriting (think Sweet Home Alabama) but muddies the water with questions of belonging and a feeling of ambivalence. It’s slow and steady and, in typical Cass McCombs style, it doesn’t shy away from the ugly truth.

Girls- My Ma

Taken from their latest LP, Father, Son, Holy Ghost, My Ma is another road-worn ballad. The video premiered on a some American TV show last week and it’s a real tear-jerker. The confessional nature of Christopher Owens’ songwriting teeters on the uncomfortable and that’s what I love about it. Honesty is all to rare in life, so when you come across someone that just doesn’t give a fuck you’ve got to relish it. The arrangement on this song is beautiful too, it’s a close to a rock and roll band sounding like an orchestra as you’re going to get. I’m beginning to think that Father, Son, Holy Ghost is an album that I’ll never be able to forget.

Words Joe Stevens

Jake Walk Blues isn’t really a bootleg (it’s out of production if that helps). But then again, if it wasn’t for the practice of bootlegging, this fascinating collection of songs wouldn’t have come about. I don’t mean the practice of unauthorised audio recording and retailing this week either; i mean the practice of covertly brewing alcohol to skirt local and federal laws about the consumption of alcohol.

Jamaican Ginger was marketed as a medical tonic and was available over the counter in America from the Civil War onward. Come the prohibition of the 20s, Jamaican Ginger became increasingly popular because of  it’s alcoholic content (60-80% ethanol) meant it was a cheap and legal way  to get blind drunk. So technically, Jamaican Ginger isn’t a bootleg, but the way it was consumed relegated it to the same illicit netherworld. And for a long time, it was just as dangerous to drink the certified, store bought bottles of Jamaican Ginger as it was to buy home-brewed, rat’s tail whiskey. That’s because in the spring of 1930, the manufacturers of Jamaican Ginger decided to add tri-o-tolyl phosphate to water the tonic down.

Jake users soon found that they lost the use of their hands and feet. The most common symptom was that users lost the ability to control the muscle which moved their toes so they were always pointing downwards. Jake users became easily discernible from the way they walked, lifting their legs higher than normal to prevent themselves tripping over their own feet and slamming the foot down. This became known as Jake Leg, the Jake Walk or the Jake Leg Wobble. Users sometimes found that their calves would sag and the muscles between their thumbs and fingers would atrophy.

Around 30-50,000 people were contaminated by the Jake before it was recalled. Some users regained the use of the affected limbs, but for many the damage was irreversible. The victims received very little in the way of compensation, since those who used the Jake in the first place were often of low social standing. In fact, this poignant episode of history would have been almost forgotten altogether were it not for the folks and blues songs that emerged from the crisis. Songs like Jake Walk Papa by Asa Martin and Jake Leg Blues by The Mississippi Shakes have not preserved a wealth of information about Jake Leg, from its symptoms to the cultural assumptions that entailed.

My friend Matt Von Sex sent me this CD a long time ago and I’ve no idea where you can get it from online. I’ve tried searching and all I can find is Jass Records, but it looks like they’ve gone out of business. Anyway, Jake Leg Blues is 16 songs of fine pre-war blues relating to the Jake Leg epidemic. The Allen Brothers begin the collection with Jake Walk Blues, which is a conversation between a Jake Leg sufferer and his other half. There are some great lyrics in this one:  ”I’m not good lookin and I’m not low down/ I’m a Jake walkin’ papa just hanging around/ I made this song and it may not rhyme/ but I’m a Jake walking papa just having a good time.”

Limber Neck Blues is an instrumental with a fiddle run that makes you think of a rubber neck wobbling back and forth. That’s the thing with these songs, they’re not that sympathetic for the sufferers. Often times, there’s a woman castigating her man letting himself get in such a state (who, more often than not, has left him by the end of the song). The Jake Leg Blues draws a caricature of a Jake Leg sufferer walking down the street, with the refrain of “Here he comes, I mean to tell you here he comes, he’s got those Jake limber leg blues.” Beer Drinking woman, on the other hand, sounds straight out of the delta. I’m not sure who’s singing it, but this is about the only occasion on the compilation where a man bemoans a female Jake drinker, singing “a jake drinking woman aint no good/ she don’t even love herself.” My favourite lyric from this song goes like this: “If you’ve got a Jake drinking woman/ she don’t mean you no good/ she wont wash and iron your clothes/wont even love you like she should.”

Jake Leg Blues is probably the most interesting pre-war blues compilation I have. Coming from such a fraught episode of history has imbued the songs with layers of disgust, compassion, heartbreak, anger and depression, all mixed in with the typical earthy quality these pre-war recordings have. If you can find Jake Leg Blues online let us know. If you can’t and desperately want it email info@psychkicks.com

Cambridge psych-folker The Doozer recently released his fourth full length album . Keep It Together was recorded in an East Anglia village hall with the help of 11 locals; the result is a very village green, English sounding affair. It makes me think about pictures of my Grandma circa 1970. We asked The Doozer to interview himself and he came back with this rambling beat monologue. 

Well, you’ve been asked to interview yourself & you’re in this absurd situation of internal dialogue & mounting dreams & what would the reader really want to know? As if anyone really wants to know about this & that. Is there anything worth saying that cannot be communicated through the music or should we start by saying what clothes I hang on the washing line? Logic dictates that question & answer is the way to proceed & I’ll try to get there, if you stick with it for a while.  I got up but I could see that someone was eyeing my seat so I quickly thought again, changed my mind & sat back down.  Ah, there’s a question.

Does an idea change? Well, if we can take this new record Keep It Together as an example, we can surely say it does. You see, these songs were around for a while before the record. Ben K & I had honed them into a tightly duo sound (herein referred to as Duozer) & while this sound fitted like a well worn pair of trousers, I knew that a specter would call at the door & they could pick up a colloquial wall of sound scenario.  This is when imagination comes in & the inner ear, for what you hear, is not what others hear. There is a formula that equals guitars & piano for rhythm, bass for your low end, strings, horns & assorted for melodic counterpoints & harmony.  There’s three guitars strumming but we never got to two basses, maybe next time.  We located to a village hall & setup Abbey Road style with a 1” 8 track & clear dreams of village folk & Mrs. Mallows.  We found a village green backdrop & that made us feel at home.

There’s lots of kids in the room and I’m feeling a little distracted like when the tape machine broke & we weren’t sure if all our work was to be lost.  It’s a cold day & it reminds me of a song called Fen Drayton which includes reminiscences of a day gone by.  So, do existing realities impact upon the creation of a song? We will follow the form by continuing with talk of Fen Drayton.  A day of gloomy English weather, an excursion to a nature reserve with small East Anglian lakes, a windmill and an imagined pair eating their lunch waiting for the rain to stop.  Consider this a rendition of a failed day or an account of the 33 ways you should recall death each day to keep your hopes in check. It’s up to you, I’ve made my decision and now it’s time to make yours.  Of course other realities also impact on your song, like working out how you can possibly choose a God, if you can indeed choose a God & will this ever be enough for all the bad & good you’ve done & how you serve your hopes & desires with more hopes & desires. And then there’s love which is in every song & that exists no matter what reality you are in. Keep a guitar under your arm! Use words as expression & voice as timbre!

I had previously worked alone & like now we talk to ourselves, but you’ve got to open that communication channel and tune in!  Did you want to talk with others? Indeed, there was an opportune moment to bring forward other human beings into The Doozer realm.  Foremost is Ben K, half of Duozer.  Ben & I don’t need to count, you get me?  His bass & harmony & understanding are key to the record, not everything is alone.  The songs had a friend.  Then there’s CB Radio banging on the skins & we fell into the same mischief as when we were 8 years old & why not? It’s only your feet that grow up anyway & I’m glad there’s no punishments when you reach this certain age with nothing to show for it.  Keep it going!  I’ve come to understand that by speaking we can confuse ourselves even more & you’ll all have your opinions about work & life & death & God & concrete blocks & paving slabs & industrial heat.  I could tell you more, but starting is the hardest part, so it’s onto the next record & another round of pure enjoyment or it’s time to say that I am a simple man and my judgment is fallible.  I’ll just keep going, as no man has the right to give into existing realities.

 Visit The Doozer’s website here. 

Introducing Bootleggin’, a new series that looks at the best bootlegs from the nefarious world of covert live recording and acetate leaking over the last half a century and more.

It’s only right to begin the series with the man who’s seen more bootlegging than a West Virginia still, Bob Dylan. And of all the bootlegs that have surfaced since the sixites, it’s the first that’s the best. After his motorcycle crash in 1966, Dylan retired to Woodstock, NY, where he spent his days playing with his kids, reading the Bible and writing and recording with The Band. Dylanologists reckon it was probably the most tranquil era of his life, not that you’d tell from these recordings. For sure, the man was writing ballads, but Dylan also wrote and recorded some of the most raucous and lewd songs that he’d ever (inadvertently) release, like I’m In The Mood For Love and Long Distance Operator.

Some of these recordings were first reproduced on acetate and sent to publishers and labels for bands on their rosters to cover. It was a good money spinning exercise, Dylan earned a tidy penny from Manfred Mann releasing The Mighty Quinn but the exercise unexpectedly spawned a culture that would cause a big headache for Dylan and his publishers: vinyl copies of these acetates started appearing in West Coast record stores in 1969 in a white sleeve bearing the legend The Great White Hope. The first ever rock and roll bootleg was born.

From then on, a slew of live recorings, radio interviews and b-sides and rarities began appearing from as early as Dylan’s schooldays. None have the same eerie, other-worldliness of the Woodstock recordings though. Perhaps realising this, or maybe to cover for the dip in the quality of Dylan’s recorded output, Columbia released The Basement Tapes. This corporate bootleg is testament to the popularity of the bootlegs, but has some major flaws. For one, Robbie Robertson’s overdubs serve to undermine the zeitgeist of the original recordings. Secondly, some of the best songs of the Woodstock era, like Four Strong winds and I’m Not There, aren’t on there. And thirdly, for a Dylan album there are a lot of songs by The Band on there. I think Robertson was probably pissed off since Dylan had stopped hiring The Band for his studio albums. Anyway, a more complete, and untouched, bootleg of the Woodstock recordings exists and it’s called A Tree With Roots, from a lyric in the song You Aint Goin’ Nowhere.

4 CDs worth of recordings, A Tree With Roots is the definitive Woodstock era bootleg. Dylan is morose, apocalyptic, sexy, obtuse, surreal and downright stupid. Typical really…

In keeping with the bootleggers code, I’m not going to hand the recording to you on a plate. Look for it on ebay, search for it on google, swap it for a Grateful Dead acetate, go out and earn it!

The American folk music of the 19th and early 20th century is some of the scariest music I’ve ever heard. Songs like Henry Lee, Omie Wise and Railroad Bill deal with the pure, unmerciful evil that is manifest in any culture. It’s not an aspect of folk music that is picked up on too often; the recent UK folk pop revival, for instance, avoided all the guts and gore in its schmaltzy lacklove balladry imitation.

What always surprises me is that folks like Bill Monroe and the Carter Family, who are revered as progenitors of “roots” music were actually imitators themselves, hearkening back to a time long gone. Blue Moon of Kentucky, the bluegrass standard wasn’t written until 1946, when the modern forms of jazz and swing were even getting a little dusty. With this is mind, I wonder what it is about modern pop culture that it can only accept a sanitised, inane form of roots music into the charts. Maybe it’s because the pop industry is funded by little girls with boners, but I reckon you could learn more about love than listening to one verse of Hard Aint It Hard than 5 hours worth of Mumford and Sons, Laura Marling and Noah and the Whale.

Anyway, country is sort of a polished aberration of folk music. Thankfully, it continued all the main themes of its predecessor, even if it sang them with a smile and a gold plated Nudie suit instead of a peg and awl. Here are 5 of my favourite country dirges for your edification.

Psycho was written by Leon Payne, a blind country singer from Alba, Texas. The Beast of Bourbon did a good version in the 80s, but none beat the calm drawl of Eddie Noack’s 1968 version. Payne also wrote Lost Highway and I Love You Because, both country standards.

There’s not much information on Buddy Long anywhere but the guitar on his version of It’s Nothin’ To Me will make your bowels rumble. Buddy takes the role of an exasperated onlooker who’s seen it all too many times and sings it just right.

Love hurts, Johnny.

That high-lonesome says it all. A song from beyond the grave…

No one dies in Skeeter Davis’ End of the World but they may as well do. Her evocation of despair is so real and devastating that you’re will the world to end by the end of the song too.