Review: 50th Anniversary Edition of The Rolling Stones''Their Satanic Majesties Request'

In his liner notes to last year’s Rolling Stones in Mono box set, David Fricke wrote that Their Satanic Majesties Request “is no one’s favorite Rolling Stones album of the 1960s.” Loyal Psychobabble readers know that I take great issue with that conclusion. Not only is the Stones’ one concentrated trip into dizzying psychedelia my favorite Rolling Stones album of the 1960s, but it is also my favorite Rolling Stones album, period. I find it endlessly more alluring than the album to which it is endlessly compared: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. I do not see it as an aberration as so many critics do. I do not dismiss it as nothing more than a stepping stone to the Stones’ “peak” period of 1968-1972. I see it as the peak.

If Fricke had done a little research, he might have concluded that I’m not completely alone in this opinion (one of my favorite defenses of the album is a blog comment left by Captain Sensible of my favorite punk band, The Damned). Still, it is not a particularly popular opinion, so when I saw the press release for a multi-disc, fiftieth anniversary edition of Their Satanic Majesties Request, I literally gasped. My delight turned to disappointment when I saw that the four-disc package was to contain remasters of the original stereo and mono mixes spread over two LPs and two hybrid SACD/CDs and nothing else. This struck me as a major missed opportunity considering how much fascinating material could have been appended to this set. There are a few outtakes, such as the winding instrumental listed on bootlegs as “5 Part Jam”, the Procol Harum-esque “Majesty Honky Tonk”, and the bluesy (though less interesting) “Gold Painted Nails”. The Satanic sessions also produced such interesting items as takes that really showcase the Mellotron in “Citadel” and “2000 Light Years from Home”, early acoustic takes of “Jigsaw Puzzle” and “Child of the Moon” (though some estimates place these tracks in the Beggars Banquet era), and most revelatory of all, the fifteen-minute jam that was ultimately edited down to create the two versions of “Sing This All Together” on the completed album. The period single “We Love You” b/w “Dandelion” and its sundry sessions and alternates (including the famed “Sometimes Happy, Sometimes Blue” demo of “Dandelion”) could have also found a place in a truly deluxe Satanic Majesties Request.

That is not the edition we received though, so let’s look at what is here instead of what isn’t. Mastering was not performed through an analog process but with Direct Stream Digital, which is very faithful as far as digital processes go. Compared to 1967 stereo vinyl and 2002 stereo SACD/CD release, this remaster is louder though not brick walled, with pleasing high ends and much more dynamic bass. That bass could get a tad overpowering at times on punchier tracks such as “Citadel” and “2000 Man”, but it sounds good overall and didn’t give me a headache. To my naked ear, the mono vinyl sounds identical to the one included in the Rolling Stones in Mono set so I’ll assume that the CDs are the same too.

The heavy-duty packaging is a major improvement over any version of Satanic Majesties since the original release. This fiftieth anniversary edition is the first since the mid-seventies to restore the 3D, lenticular cover, though the image is slightly bigger yet also slightly cropped compared to the original. While the low-quality, misproportioned, 2D cover included in The Rolling Stones in Mono held a plain, white inner sleeve, the deluxe set reproduces the clouds-on-a-red background sleeve of the original release for the mono LP and a blue version similar to the front-cover border for the stereo disc. Unfortunately, it’s a tight fit and a bit of a chore to get the vinyl in and out of the sleeves.

The big, unexpected boon of this set is Rob Bowman’s essay in the booklet slipped inside the gatefold. There are no apologies in this essay. No dismissals. Bowman treats Their Satanic Majesties Request like the psychedelic royalty it is, providing history, a track-by-track analysis, and some truly valuable nuggets of trivia that answered some of my own questions about the pinging sounds on “Citadel”, the weird backing vocals on “She’s a Rainbow” and other behind-the-scenes details. I could read an entire book of this stuff (get cracking, Rob). The booklet also contains some very groovy photos of the Stones trying on their wizard costumes and constructing the fantasy tableau on the front cover.

So while this might not be ideal as a “deluxe” edition of Their Satanic Majesties Request, it’s a very nice fiftieth anniversary re-release, and really, I’m just grateful that this thing exists at all. Spotlighting Their Satanic Majesties Request with any kind of special edition will hopefully draw more attention to it, win some new fans, and make opinions like David Fricke’s even more inaccurate and irrelevant.

Review: 'The Damned: Don’t You Wish We Were Dead'

Mentioning that The Damned never had nearly as much commercial or critical success as those other two British punk cornerstones is always a convenient way to introduce any discussion of the band. For Captain Sensible, Dave Vanian, and Rat Scabies, it’s serious business. Money issues dug the rifts between these guys that still gape today. They are often marginalized in or completely left out of the conversation about the history of punk they did so much to write. There isn’t even a single decent biography about the band that—here we go again—released the first UK punk LP and 45 and personally delivered British punk to the States, almost singlehandedly jumpstarting the LA punk scene. As far as I’m concerned, they’re also responsible for the single best punk album and the single best song and album of the eighties.

If The Damned are touchy about their lack of “success,” they really have every right to be. And if we fans sometimes get defensive about them the way some crew-cut asshole gets defensive about some football team, it’s because we recognize their underdog status and believe the band deserves more than their lot. I love The Clash, but I wouldn’t feel like smashing a pint glass over the head of anyone who says The Sex Pistols were better. If someone made a similar comparison with The Damned in place of The Clash, however, he’d better protect his fucking skull.

So, Wes Orshoski’s The Damned: Don’t You Wish We Were Dead isn’t just another worshipful rock doc; it’s a bloody necessity. Fortunately, it serves both functions, telling the tale of The Damned in satisfying manner, and letting the band members air their grievances in their own manners. Mr. Vanian is caught in a candid moment griping about how many of his punk peers are raking in the filthy lucre by licensing their music when no similar offers are in the offing for his band (please forgive the anti-semitic tinge to his diatribe). Mr. Scabies rants about how much he doesn’t care about the band’s loser status, making how much he really cares perfectly clear.

Filling in the rest of the narrative, Nick Mason shows up to give a short account of the Music for Pleasure sessions and Paul Gray and the recently departed Bryn Merrick share cancer war stories. There are testimonials from Mick Jones, Billy Idol, Chrissie Hynde, Clem Burke, Chris Stein, TV Smith, Gaye Advert, Jello Biafra, Lemmy Kilmister, and many others. There’s even an extended focus on that greatest song of the eighties, “Curtain Call” (though, I exercise my right as a fan to be disappointed that the greatest album of the eighties, Strawberries, is left out of the discussion entirely). The elusive Dave Vanian sits out much of this before receiving an unusually enlightening profile late in the film.

The fact that The Damned are often painted as punk-golden-age also rans is a complete drag, but it is also what makes we fans feel so strongly about them (well, that and the incredible music), and Orshoski makes plenty of time for us too, whether it’s an original Damned maniac who went up the creak for murdering a guy with a pick axe or comedian Fred Armisen. I’m sure those guys and everyone else like them has shoved a copy of Damned Damned Damned or Machine Gun Etiquette at some in-the-dark friend in an attempt to make a conversion. With its historically significant story, incredible music, outrageous humor (Cap’n’s tale about an exceptionally resilient turd will stimulate your laugh reflexes and your gag reflexes), and real emotion, Don’t You Wish We Were Dead will hopefully also get shoved at a few Damned virgins now that it’s out on DVD and blu-ray. MVD supplements the feature with 45 minutes of extras, including a sweet meeting between Captain and Armsien that finds the latter giving Strawberries the attention it didn’t get in the movie and both guys busking “Smash It Up” in LA, Captain giving a hilarious guided tour of Croydon (some of this material is also shuffled into the film), an extended segments about The Doomed (The Damned plus Lemmy) and The Anarchy Tour that brought together UK punk’s three cornerstones before tearing them apart, and a live performance of “Smash It Up” from Captain’s 60^th birthday gig.

Review: 'Another Splash of Colour: New Psychedelia in Britain 1980-1985'

Pop music is cyclical, which was never more explicit than in late seventies/early eighties Britain when punk returned rock to the simplicity of the fifties before a new Mod scene indebted to the early sixties emerged. These scenes naturally led to a return of mid-sixties trippiness, and the New Psychedelic scene was barely underway when WEA was already putting it into historical context with a compilation of its very own. The thirteen tracks on A Splash of Colour did a pretty good job of laying out the guidelines of UK New Psychedelia. American garage psych groups such as The 13th Floor Elevators and The Electric Prunes were as influential as homegrown fare by The Beatles (always “Tomorrow Never Knows”) or Syd Barret’s Pink Floyd (always “Lucifer Sam”). Though the influences and attitude were unapologetically retro, drum machines, synthesizers that don’t require an engineering degree to play, and other eighties tools and toys were welcome at the Love In. The anti-war, pro-understanding sentiments parroted Summer of Love ethos but also served as contemporary statements against Thatcher/Reagan-era bellicosity. Consequently, the music often doesn’t sound any more stuck in the past than the latest discs by The Cure or Siouxsie and the Banshees, two seemingly super-contemporary bands that drew on sixties influences deeply.

35 years later, Cherry Red’s RPM Records is revising and expanding A Splash of Colour with a triple-disc set called Another Splash of Colour. With the exception of two tracks by The Doctor, all of the tracks from the 1982 compilation are on this new box set, although the running order is mixed up, shuffling the 11 remaining tracks with 53 additional cuts basically in the Splash of Colour spirit. Some of the new artists are bigger names than the ones on WEA’s comp: Robyn Hitchcock with and without The Soft Boys, Captain Sensible, The Damned in the guise of Naz Nomad and the Nightmares, Julian Cope, The Television Personalities, The Monochrome Set, The Attractions (without Elvis), The Dentists. Those bands all turn in reliably excellent tracks, while lesser-known acts supply the excitement of discovery, particularly when they don’t follow psychedelic tropes so doggedly. Knox takes a rather obvious cover choice—Syd Barret’s “Gigolo Aunt” — and makes it truly exciting by shooting it up with punk aggression. Magic Mushroom Band’s “Wide Eyed and Electrick” is another thrilling punk/psych fusion. Some of the best tracks would have sounded perfectly at home on Cherry Red’s Millions Like Us: The Story of the Mod Revival box, namely Kimberley Rew’s “Stomping All Over the World” and Squire’s “No Time Tomorrow”. 

There are only a couple of outright skippable tracks — Charlie Harper’s novelty “Night of the Jackal” and Blue Orchid’s grating “Work”— though Another Splash of Colour is not quite back-to-back gems otherwise. At times, groups get a little too trapped in the tropes, as when The High Tides waste their time and yours with a longwinded, sloppy jam in the middle of “Electric Blue”, a remnant of the WEA compilation. Some of the new selections sound like they don’t quite fit, such as Scarlet Party’s “101 Dam-Nations”, which is a bit jangly but generally indistinguishable from any other piece of eighties pop. However, as Miles Over Matter shout on “Something’s Happening Here”, “Just because the love generation did it, doesn’t mean we have to.” The fact that the mass of tracks on Another Splash of Colour do not merely copy psychedelia’s original wave but update it for their own age gives them a personality of their very own and makes them sound strangely contemporary today.

366 Days at the Drive-In: Day 193

The Date: April 10

The Movie: Punk Attitude (2005)

What Is It?: Don Letts’s era-spanning punk doc lingers a bit too long after the seventies, but it’s still awesome hearing the whole filthy and furious story straight from the mouths of Siouxsie Sioux, Captain Sensible, Mick Jones, Chrissie Hynde, Polly Styrene, David Johansen, Tommy Ramone, and too many other legends to mention.

Why Today?: Today is Safety Pin Day. Clearly, there is a bullshit holiday for everything you could possibly think of.

Review: 'Left of the Dial: Conversations with Punk Icons'

Left of the Dial: Conversations with Punk Icons compiles twenty-two interviews David Ensminger conducted for such landmark ’zines as Thirsty Ear, Maximumrocknroll, and yes, his own Left of the Dial. My interest in his book was sparked by the inclusion of a chat with The Damned’s Captain Sensible, so I was slightly disappointed when I saw how brief that conversation was and how many post-first wavers were featured in Ensminger’s anthology. My disappointment melted when I realized how fine an interviewer our host is and how insightful and articulate his selection of punk icons is.

Left of the Dial offers a fascinating range of experiences from such subjects as The Dils’ Tony Kinman, a first waver who lays out a near academic history of Rock & Roll, and Minuteman Mike Watt, who offers a harrowing account of the illness that nearly killed him. The diversity is impressive too as we get perspectives beyond the white, hetero dudes who constitute the prevailing punk stereotype to dig the experiences of what it’s like to be Latino (El Vez of The Zeros), female (Kira Roessler of Black Flag), gay (Gary Floyd of The Dicks), or black (Freak Smith of Beefeater) in the scene. Ensminger is a good interviewer too, respectful of his subjects but not afraid to call out the somewhat prickly Shawn Stern of Youth Brigade about the apparent weakness of the 1992 comeback record Come Again or query Lisa Fancher of Frontier Records on her sometimes-criticized business practices. Best of all is a riveting mini-oral history of San Francisco’s Deaf Club, an actual gathering place for hearing-impaired patrons to feel the beat from such performers as X, The Dils, Dead Kennedys, and a performance artist who’d receive an enema on stage.

My only gripe is that Ensminger could have oriented the reader better by indicating exactly when his interviews took place. It was a little jarring to be reading along only to discover that 9/11 had just taken place or Bush had just invaded Iraq. But that’s a pretty minor quibble about a selection of interviews so readable that I guess they now qualify as timeless.

Review: 'Punk Rock: An Oral History'

By most accounts, Jon Savage typed the last word on British punk twenty years ago when he published his 600-page history England’s Dreaming. Yet former Membrane John Robb recognized the gap in the tale that appears in any third person telling: the punks didn’t get to tell their side of the story in their own words. So he went to work on picking the brains of over 100 first and second wavers and ended up with his own bulky tome titled Punk Rock: An Oral History. Not surprisingly, the 2006 book recycles a fair share of what Savage already laid down, but it is meaningful to get the story straight from Mick Jones, Siouxsie Sioux, Captain Sensible, Gaye Advert, Ari Up, Pete Shelley, Poly Styrene, and the lot, particularly since some of these folks are no longer pogoing through this mortal coil.

Our cast spends the first 50 or so pages rhapsodizing about their influences and putting to rest the well-traveled clichés that the punks had nothing but disdain for hippie psychedelia, prog, and glam. Then they get deep into the details of their formations, their rises and falls, coloring in between the timelines with the personal perspectives and stories that make Robb’s book unique and essential in its own right. Don Letts comes clean about being the second biggest collector of Beatles memorabilia in England before hocking it all to devote himself to reggae and punk. Captain Sensible relates the tear-jerking tale about how The Damned’s first break up drove him to cry his peepers out while watching Abba: The Movie before heading to XTC’s debut record release party to molest their cake. Robb also gives voice to those who got shut out of England’s Dreaming, spending much time with agit-proppers Crass and paying respect to such punk offshoots as Two-Tone ska, Goth, and Oi, which our tour guide is keen to sever from its racist image. Such politics play a powerful role as punk finally invites feminists to the Rock & Roll party and right wing, National Front ideology attempts to piss on it.

Robb plays a broader role in his book than mere behind-the-scenes interviewer and editor with his sometimes awestruck, sometimes sly interjections. His retort to Sniffin’ Glue-founder Mark Perry’s rant about how The Clash unforgivably betrayed the scene when they signed with CBS Records is—no hyperbole—the greatest footnote ever footnoted. While I have no reservations in recommending PM Press’ new reprint of Punk Rock: An Oral History, I must offer one valuable bit of advice: feel free to skip ahead anytime you see a quote from that whiney, self-impressed windbag John Lydon. Put a sock in it, Johnny!

Rat Scabies’s Ten Greatest Beats

Laughed off as inept as soon as they first shambled onstage in 1976, The Damned had the last laugh by being one of the most enduring and versatile of the first wave of U.K. punks. And who could listen to even their earliest recordings today without hearing the already incredible musicianship at work? This is especially true of Mr. Christopher Millar. He may have taken himself with such a complete lack of seriousness that he gladly accepted the moniker Rat Scabies (earned by an unfortunate skin condition and a furry gate crasher that scurried across the floor during his audition), but he always thrashed the drums with the seriousness of a student who practiced his paradiddles every night and a looner who had no qualms about commanding the spotlight from behind his kit. Rat Scabies is the cursed offspring of Phil Collins (whom he once accosted in an airport to profess his love) and Keith Moon. He’s also punk’s greatest drummer, and as of today, 55 years old. In honor of Rat’s birthday, here’s a listen to ten of his wildest feats.

1. “New Rose” (1976)

It was the U.K.’s very first punk single, and after Dave Vanian’s brief tribute to The Shangri-Las, the first thing we hear is the primal pound of Rat’s toms. Deep, echoing, and a bit slack, this could be the intro to Chris Montez’s “Let’s Dance”. Then with Dave’s groin yelp, Rat squeezes the rhythm tighter than a crawlspace, abusing his hi-hat in double time, scattering Moony fills effortlessly at top speed. Dave’s breathless croon is the sound of a jogger trying to keep up with a formula one racer.

2. “I Fall” (1977)

As he was on “New Rose”, Rat Scabies is almost solely responsible for the blood boiling angst of “I Fall”. Dave, Captain Sensible, and Brian James often sound like they’re ripping their hamstrings to keep up with Rat on Damned, Damned, Damned, just barely keeping pace with the melodiousness that makes their debut such a thrilling sweet and sour dish. Rat bashes the beat so fast it’s almost impossible to hear exactly where the stick makes contact with the snare. Then with a craftsman’s flourish, he gives the listeners—and the rest of his band—a moment to catch their collective breath with an expansive, but very quick, run across the toms.

3. “Stab Your Back” (1977)

The one original track on Damned, Damned, Damned to break Brian James’s songwriting monopoly is Rat’s “Stab Your Back”. This nasty item is an instantaneous drumming showcase, both in terms of how quickly the track shows off the instrument (a spacey phased fill zooms through the intro) and its brevity. But in that one minute, “Stab Your Back” flashes Rat’s extreme stamina perhaps better than any other track. Listen to how he never lets up on that bass drum!

4. “Fish” (1977)

Review: The Damned's 'The Chiswick Singles… And Another Thing'

After the ever-volatile Damned disbanded after 1977’s disappointing Music for Pleasure on Stiff Records, they soon regrouped (minus Brian James) for a two-year stint with Chiswick in 1979. Poppier, Gothier, The Damned were, indeed, a new band, and they created some of their very best work for the label: the L.P.’s Machine Gun Etiquette and The Black Album and several singles with exclusive B-sides. Late last year, Chiswick collected these 45s onto a new CD called, self-explanatorily enough, The Chiswick Singles… And Another Thing. With the bulk pulled from songs already included as bonus tracks on Chiswick’s essential editions of Machine Gun Etiquette and The Black Album, this comp isn’t great value. Plus the new-remastering job is too fucking loud. The Damned never needed help making listeners feel agitated, so the added volume is particularly unnecessary.

The Chiswick Singles… And Another Thing does have a selling point, and it’s a huge one (hint: it’s the non-Chiswick “other thing” in the CD’s title). This is the first time the great “Friday the 13th” E.P. has made it to CD since the 1993 comp Tales from the Damned, which is long out of print. Perhaps the E.P.’s four cuts have been MIA so long because they were The Damned’s only recordings for NEMS records and there were rights issues. Whatever the case, it’s great to have them back (particularly since my vinyl copy of “Friday the 13th” warped mysteriously several years ago). This is one of The Damned’s very best hidden treasures. The uproarious “Disco Man”, with its melody so similar to that of Family’s “Peace of Mind”, has been a staple of the band’s live sets for decades. “The Limit Club” is a haunting fan favorite in the Black Album vein. “Billy Bad Breaks” is pogoing power pop, and a cover of “Citadel” realigns The Damned with the ‘60s psychedelia they so adored and reasserts the fact that The Stones hardly went soft when they made Their Satanic Majesties Request  .

The Chiswick Singles… And Another Thing has a few other recommendable oddities, such as a slightly longer mix of “Suicide” and non-Chiswick oddities like the momentous Damned/Motörhead collaboration, “Over the Top”, and a fiddle-adorned version of “Anti-Pope” from the “There Ain’t No Sanity Clause” single that was oddly left off the extended Black Album CD. The booklet is well annotated by Roger Armstrong and full of great photos. But The Chiswick Singles… And Another Thing earns its “must have” status for one reason only: the “Friday the 13th” E.P.