(i) Nobles Of The Mystic Shrine
(ii) The Stars & Stripes Forever
(iii) El Capitan
(iv) The Liberty Bell
(v) Semper Fidelis
(vi) The Washington Post
| Track: | Rating: | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. Hey Good Lookin' | | | | | |
| 2. Six More Miles (To The Graveyard) | | | | | |
| 3. Kaw-Liga | | | | ||
| 4. Ramblin' Man | | | | ||
| 5. Jambalaya (On The Bayou) | | | | | |
| 6. Sousaside (i) Nobles Of The Mystic Shrine (ii) The Stars & Stripes Forever (iii) El Capitan (iv) The Liberty Bell (v) Semper Fidelis (vi) The Washington Post | | | | ||
This album requires a bit of explaining.
First, there's the matter of The Residents. Although a fair percentage of readers will probably have a passing knowledge of the group, it's probably safe to assume that an similar percentage do not. While such readers would be advised to consult relevant web pages for the full story, the following summarization should suffice for the moment: basically, they're a troupe of eyeball-mask-wearing nutters who moved from North Louisiana to San Francisco in the mid-1970s. Although they've released several albums since their debut Meet The Residents in 1973, their identities have never been confirmed -- a remarkable record for secrecy, by any standards. Avowed followers of N. Senada's "theory of obscurity", this strange unit has consistently avoided giving interviews to the public, allowing their curious projects to stand or fall on their own merit.
And there have been curious projects aplenty. While the first two Residents albums are primarily deconstructions of assorted popular themes, they've long since moved on to more elaborate things. Perhaps the most notorious of these is their "Mole Trilogy" from the early 1980s, an ambitious narrative about a group of moles who are forced to search for a new "holey land". The Mark Of The Mole, the first album in this series, is widely considered to be the best of all Residents releases, depicting a struggle between the Moles and the Chubs, the occupiers of the land wherein the moles which to resettle (there was also an EP entitled Intermission released at about the same time, consisting of incidental music from the live "Mole Show" -- see the Tentative Review for further details). After a second album The Tunes Of Two Cities) chronicling the music of the two cultures before the struggle, the band ran out of ideas and left the trilogy unfinished.
With this failed project complete, the band dove headfirst into their next venture: the American Composers Series. Originally scheduled to last for a 16 year period (with one album being issued each year), the project cast the Residential spotlight on notable figures from America's musical catalogue (or, as they put it, the composers who added spunk to the melting pot) -- with each American Composer being granted one side of a single LP. The first album, George And James (1984), paid reverence to the works of George Gershwin and James Brown. And that leads us to Stars And Hank Forever.
This, the second album in the series, turns the spotlight to the works of Hank Williams (Sr., bien sur) and John Philip Sousa, complete with mini-autobiographies of the composers on the back cover. (For newcomers, the American Composers Series is also briefly outlined on said cover. As The Residents note, the idea of making music about music isn't terribly original, but "at least every stupid band in the civilised world isn't doing it", thereby giving the Unfab Four a limited claim to distinctiveness). With this in mind, we may now turn to the music.
By far, the most interesting thing about this album is the fact that it exists. There's really only so much that any critic can do in assessing this album from a purely qualitative standpoint -- certainly, these adaptations "succeed" far more on the basis of their absurdity than on their inherent musical worth. Williams and Sousa collectors will probably find this album to have little worth, except as a novelty item -- and even sources in the alternative press (the Trouser Press guide, specifically) have assessed the album as a case of "form determining content".
With regard to the Williams side, however, the TP critism may not be entirely fair. Granting that this material doesn't exactly make for serious comparisons with the originals, there actually is some music occurring here if one listens carefully enough. Perhaps the matter of Williams and The Residents having the same home state had some carry-over effect. One way or the other, though, some tracks on this side actually manage to come on their own as covers, to some limited degree. As far as the Sousaside goes ... well ... let's just say that the TP criticism is more valid here.
The album begins, naturally, with a cover of "Hey Good Lookin'", featuring the late Snakefinger as a guest guitarist (his demented solo in mid-song is odd enough to merit mention). The vocals on this number (from a mystery Resident) appear as if sung by demonic spirits, ridiculously interpolated with "triumphant" synthesizer effects on occasion. It goes without saying that this sounds almost nothing like the original -- much slower, much less emotive, and considerably more technological. That said, it's also bizarre enough to work, in the limited context of the album.
This version of "Six More Miles (To The Graveyard)" interprets the song as a slow funeral march, with said Resident reciting the lyrics in a deadpan tone over minimal synth accompaniments. I'm not completely certain that Mr. Williams would have approved of the cello and violin effects, but they don't hurt the ... erm ... "integrity" of this piece.
From there, it's on to "Kaw-Liga", the most obvious novelty track on this side. With a musical introduction somewhat derivative of Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" (or is it Billy Ocean's "Loverboy"), this tragic number tells the saga of Kaw-Liga, a dime store wooden Indian who never quite builds up the ability to confess his love to a female store-item (no doubt providing a profound insight into the ubiquitous problem of conversation fear). The lyrics seem completely ridiculous in this context, and my suspicion is that the absurd riff (repeated for a bit too long at the end) would also be a ubiquitous problem. Still, I suppose that it's funny ...
This cover of "Ramblin' Man" doesn't cohere quite as well as the other tracks on this side -- the church organ and circus effects allow the track to work as another "hymn for the damned", but there isn't quite enough of interest here for the song to "work" in a more general sense. Perhaps it was simply made in too offhand of a manner ...
The gem of this side (and of the album) is clearly "Jambalaya (On The Bayou)", a truly bizarre creation featuring a fairly musical synthesized setting (the extreme murkiness of which works well with the voodoo imagery and tales of Louisiana cuisine). Some might note the accordion-esque effects in parts of the song as a point of interest. The Residents actually come fairly close to creating a truly evocative cover of this track; it's really only the limited vocal skills of Singer Resident that hold the track back from a higher rating.
The Williams side, therefore, actually has a few moments which transcend the novelty approach of the entire project. For better or for worse, though, ours heroes don't even try for this on "Sousaside".
"Sousaside" is ostensibly taken from an outdoor parade, with the sounds of proud American families chatting amongst themselves during the opening moments (the familiarity of certain background voices -- not to mention basic common sense -- ultimately belies this possibility, though). >From there, it's literally a parade of Sousa hits, performed on synth effects which give the tracks an appropriate circus-y feel. The most amusing moment in the song is clearly the ice-cream-vendor chime lead on "Stars & Stripes Forever", though the canned applause and generic military drum line at the end of every waltz have a certain humour value as well. At 20 minutes, this track may be a bit much some most listeners -- and it's certainly not recommended that anyone listen to this number on a regular basis! The Trouser Press guide suggests that the "point" of the piece could have been conveyed in a third of the time, and they're almost certainly right ... though I suppose that this would have ruined the joke.
True to form, The Residents ended up abandoning the entire American Composers Series after this release (perhaps realizing that not even they had the patience to stretch the joke much further). They eventually settled on a more modest three-part series in the history of American music, which was commenced on tour in 1989 and bears the distinction of being the first multi-part project actually completed by the group.
It would miss the point of the entire release to make a recommendation as based on musical quality. Let's just say that if this review intrigues you, you'll probably find something to like about the release (though whether you'll want to listen to "Sousaside" more than once is a different matter...).
(review originally posted to alt.music.yes on 8 Jul 1998)