Page 33 - The Noise August 2017

to hold my interest. Equally, at home basking in melody or discord, Tunabunny concurrently manages to sound both weird and familiar. Instrumentally it would appear the band has no intention of being pinned down or defined, or invite other band comparisons with any ease. Which, I’m all in favor of. I wonder if they purposely set out to use a different palette of instruments on each track on this collection of songs? It kind of sounds that way. Regardless, it works for me.
The dual female vocals supplied in earnest by Mary Jane Hassell and Brigette Adair Her- ron provides the album’s sonic continuity amidst their rag-bag patchwork of sounds. There are some great pop bangers on here. “Incinerate” is an instant hit, with sweet synths and a bouncing melodic bass, it’s catchy as heck. The vocals are great, totally sussed and coquett- ish. “Nevermind the Cobblestones” is another potential pop hit, firmly centered around the vocal performance.
I get the sense that Tunabunny listens to, and are fans of, a wide array of music. They ap- pear to happily display this through the schizophrenic nature of their sound. It’s at times experimental and daring, but always with a sense of a joyous pop undercurrent throughout their offerings.
Many other selections are less restrained indie-fuzz rackets such as “Noise Problems” and “The Way the World Works” which has a Breeders-esque vibe to it. There is also a flavor of untutored brilliance, with a nod to UK female post-punk pioneers such as The Raincoats and Slits, and even a whiff of New Zealand ‘80s indie-pop on “Come Feed You Dogs,” that reminds me of The Clean. Sprinkle generously with a few flashes of psyche, a smattering of minimal found sounds, a deluge of dirty synth segues and bake for 1 hour 15 minutes. Et voila. It’s an ambitious indulgent undertaking that I salute. I also applaud you, dear listener, should you take the time to listen in one sitting. It’s a rewarding listen. One can only guess where Tunabunny will take their collective talents for their next album.
IGGY AND THE STOOGES: ONE NIGHT AT THE WHISKY, 1970
BY BEVERLEY NAPALM
I wonder if the photographer, Ed Caraeff, who took these pictures, understood their future importance. It’s a beautiful presentation that seems at delightful odds with the violent and grubby image The Stooges projected. But nostalgia sells, especially for a time and place that so few witnessed firsthand. Clearly under-valued during their existence, The Stooges are now recognized as musical trailblazers, more than deserving of the hefty coffee book status this book provides. What’s remarkable to me is that Caraeff sat on these photos for so long. It has taken almost five decades for most of these pictures to see the public light of day.
Caraeff clearly has a great eye and timing. His contribution to popular culture is somewhat assured as he was responsible for the iconic photos of Hendrix setting fire to his guitar for the first time at the Monterey Festival. Given the photographer’s pedigree, it’s no surprise that The Stooges photos are also beautifully considered and framed. The quality of the lighting in the pictures transforms you to the front row of the audience and captures the mayhem and excitement of The Stooges in full flow. You can almost taste the sweat, smell the smoke, whilst your remaining senses are pummeled into submission by the hypnotic crudity of the band.
I look upon the young and beautiful Iggy, eyes wide as saucers, sweaty and bleeding from his own feral uncontained performance, with a car-crash obsession. There is a sequence of photos showing Iggy laughing at the audience as he pours candle wax over his naked torso. There are also plenty of trademark photos of Iggy reeling around on the floor looking more like a madman than a singer in a rock band. It’s exciting to be vivaciously dragged into the dark and humorous world of Iggy. As I absorb the images, almost instantly I want to dig out Raw Power and turn it up to 11.
Among the impressive photos there are also interviews by pop-culture historian Jen- nifer Otter Bickerdike, who tackles Jac Holzman, Head of Elektra Records (The Stooges original record label), Mikael Maglieri, son of Mario the owner of the Whisky a Go-Go at the time, Danny Fields, who is the publicist credited for assisting in the signing of MC5 and The Stooges. Also featured is Jeff Gold, music historian and noted Iggy Pop biographer.
It took a while to permeate popular culture, but flicking through these photos, it’s quite obvious Iggy knew what he was doing all along. He knows you can’t take your eyes off him, and revels in the dynamics of his own performance more than most. Which is why, 47 years later, now more than ever we are fascinated and drooling over coffee table books such as this one. Mr. Pop is still performing today, and at 70 years old, stripped to the waist, still giving it everything he has, his stage shows will leave you further in awe.
Photographs by Ed Caraeff
“I think I’m a little different upstairs, yeah... but so are a lot of people”
— Iggy Pop, 1970
Aremarkable man respon- sible for a vital contribution to American culture, Iggy Pop is a true musical pioneer and a one man revolution. It’s been a bumpy road, but his originality and unflinching vision has final- ly, and very definitely, ingrained itself within modern pop and art. Iggy was punk before there was even a word for it. Isolating him- self from the record buying pub- lic in the ‘60s and ‘70s through his frantic displays of self-destruc- tion and burning ambition, Iggy knew he was right from day one. There was no other performer at the time who dared to go where he went during his time with The Stooges.
The Stooges traded in riff heavy cranked rock, with an un- derlying malevolence that was
DRAHLA: Fictional Decision
(A Turntable Friend Records)
A
to 1999 and traded predomi- nantly in twee-indie pop. So it was with a raised eyebrow that I quizzically learned of this new 7-inch, the label’s first release in 17 years. It’s also quite a welcome stretch and dramatic change of di- rection from the label’s pre- vious forays.
West Yorkshire UK noise- niks, Drahla’s debut 7-inch contains two shiny tracks on one shiny silver color vinyl disc, and is a wonderful and promising start for the band. I quickly fell hard for their charms. The band’s sound is menacing yet playful. The A side “Fictional Decision” re-
unheralded at the time. Dirt under the nails, unkempt, anti-social and totally at odds with the lovey-dovey hippy movement, The Stooges simply didn’t care what anyone thought of them. They were more interested in free drugs rather than free love. Living on the fringes, and refusing to play the industry game, The Stooges were dismissed for their outsider status during their brief existence. They were the original nihilists. Iggy’s performances confused most and did more to hinder the band’s progress than propelling them to an elevated status. The band spectacularly imploded in a drug-addled mess, quickly confined to the 99¢ cut-out bins, and were almost erased from memory by the mainstream during the early ‘70s.
It took the 1977 punk rock explosion to rescue Iggy from oblivion, potentially saving his life in the process as he took on his new mantle as the founding father of Punk Rock. The British punks loved him. (The Sex Pistols famously covered Iggy and the Stooges 1968 smasher “No Fun.”)
So it is with glee I crack the seal on this weighty tome documenting The Stooges during One Night At The Whisky – The seminal LA music venue from the ‘60s onwards that housed residencies by bands such as The Doors and Sparks. What a fascinating time capsule it is!
volves around a bass heavy hypnotic riff and a pounding beat. The vocals on side A are sup- plied by Luciel Brown. They are pleasantly engaging, and set up to draw you in. Half spoken and half sung, they sit on the verge of potential melody with the uncertainty of combusting alongside the guitars’ kinetic outbursts. Vocally, the immediate reference that comes to mind is Kim Gordon. Drahla don’t quite scale the claustrophobic and self-indulgent heights of Sonic Youth by wisely sticking to a more pop-orientated path, but it’s darn catchy stuff for sure. On the flip “Dog Collar Guillotine” is sung by guitarist Rob Riggs. His vocal style brings to mind a long lost Pavement melody, topped off with shards of icy cool post-punk guitar.
The production, by MJ of the band Hookworms, is great. I love the drum sound, it’s poised and powerful. Beautifully balanced and brutal pop music, and wonderfully packaged to boot. (I am not sure I have seen a 7-inch single that has merited its own printed spine before? That’s kind of fancy!) The band has just released their 2nd single for Too Pure Records, also in the UK. It’s a cracking debut, and more than worthy of future exploration. I am sure the LP, when and if it finally arrives, will be essential listening at Napalm HQ.
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