I Like Cows: Blindfold Test #2

Charles — the second most royal Prince in new wave ’80s funk.

In the initial installment of this sonic experiment and/or semi-educated guessing game, I blindly played myself 25 songs out of a random shuffled playlist of 1699 I was curious about, and people kept joking that 1699 is an awful long time ago to pick 25 songs from har har. But more importantly, four different bands were included twice each among the small batch of tunes I listened to and commented enough, which is clearly too much redundancy so 1699 clearly wasn’t enough.

So for the followup, I added 597 more songs (well really 622 since I deleted and replaced the 25 I’d already written about) for a total of 2196, adding up to a potential 136 hours, 47 minutes of music if I were to play them end to end, which of course I didn’t. (Do I look crazy?)

And guess what? It still wasn’t enough! For one thing, when I random shuffled this time, the 25 leading the playlist repeated six artists that had previously showed up on the first edition, two of those twice each. And one more artist that wasn’t in the first one also showed up twice.

On top of that, post-punk, goth and/or industrial music from the ’80s and/or Germany very much dominated the selections again. Which is okay in the sense that goth and industrial have generally been unduly ignored by music critics, including maybe myself, and reminding people they’re out there has uses. But it’s not okay in the sense that those styles are only a teensy fraction of the musical universe and a more interesting blindfold test would showcase many other fractions.

Since I obviously don’t want to write and you probably don’t want to read about the same artists or even genres (or eras, or nationalities) over and over again, further adjustments are in order, and I trust will have a noticeable effect by Part Three, which for one thing will stretch further back (and maybe forward), time-wise. That said, here’s how Part Two shook out, with items again scored on a 0 to 10 scale without looking at who made them. At least it’s slightly less white this time.

No he is not Pyrolating his laundry.

Pyrolator, “180°“  (from Ausland, 1981; alias of Düsseldorf electronic musician/producer Kurt Dahlke): Loud distorted bwaang, fast industrial dance beat — Borghesia or whatever they’re called? From Bulgaria or wherever they’re from? Whooshing effects over an over-the-top high-energy pulse switching impatiently back and forth. Actually does it even count as industrial (or even new beat) if there’s no ridiculous vocal spewing pervy stuff about orgies with rubber sex dolls and how revolting their cocks are? I do hear a voice deep in the mix, which in fact is one of those deep debaucherous ones, then a woman moaning and/or panting in ecstasy and/or terror. Then it all whooshes away. 5.5

Prince Charles and the City Beat Band, “Don’t Go Away“ (from Gang War expanded reissue, 1996; “playing a unique wind synthesizer called the Lyricon, Charles ‘Prince Charles’ Alexander released a handful of wild synth-funk albums” in the early ’80s, says a fan website for Duran Duran, who Alexander’s Boston band supported on 1983 and 1984 tours, before he “became a multi-platinum recording engineer, mixing engineer and producer” [wikipedia] for a long list of r&b and hip-hop household names): “Hey girl, don’t walk out the door until you understand how I feel about you. Nobody’s perfect”…He’s sooooo making excuses! “I love you girl, don’t go away, don’t go away” — Clearly it’s called “Don’t Go Away”. Was this an actual hit once for the Delfonics or Persuaders or somebody second tier like that? The other guys in the group just repeat the lead singer’s plaints. “Please unpack your bags and stay. I’ll try to change my evil ways” — He’s totally gaslighting the lady, and I hope she doesn’t fall for it. “Babbeh, anybody can make a mistake, but you see I really love you.” What do you suppose his mistake was? Maybe he put wooden spoons in the dishwasher, or left the toilet seat up again? The spoken parts have some Barry White in them. So do the strings, probably. Maybe that’s the point. Frankly, I’m not much of a Barry White fan in the first place. The background guys are way sweeter and more trustworthy than the lead. But I do like how, in the chorus, his pitch climbs up one rung with each line. Does being so sleazebaggy make it more or less interesting? Either way, would’ve helped if the falsetto fella took center stage, like Russell Thompkins in the Stylistics. 6

Fighting a war of Attrition.

Attrition, “Shrinkwrap” (1985 single; goth/industrial/dark wave band from Coventry, UK): More distorted rumbling industrial rhythms, a pretentious whining voice, boing boing boing synthesizers and a funk-rock bassline and dub echo effects on certain vocals. Probably from Central or Eastern Europe somewhere. One guy’s doing that slimy Virgin Prunes (Gavin Whoever) thing. Which I tend to like. He’s saying “We are what we eat!,” sounds like. “I live in a garden where….it’s plastic.” (Sounds like Bowie circa Scary Monsters on that line.) Backup voices enter at all angles: “now now now now now talk talk talk talk”…..There’s a certain vampiric quality, obviously intentional. But why are they talking about “shrink wrap”? Is it a “wrap music” joke? 7

The Suburbs “Cows” (from In Combo, 1980; “alternative rock and roll/funk/new wave band that (true to their name) came out of the western suburbs of Minneapolis” [discogs]): A few pretty notes at the start, then a punk rock guitar riff, then somebody talking: “I like cows, and they like me…They go moo!!! Hey mooove over!” He likes to watch them eat. They have skinny feet like their friends the shaved sheep (???) He’s a cowhand from the Rio Grande. He wishes!! Sounds more Midwestern to me. First I was thinking Get Smart! from Lawrence, Kansas, but now I’m pretty sure it’s those guys from Minneapolis, you know, not the Suicide Commandos….the Suburbs, I think? Those were the Twin Cities’ new wave standard bearers until the Replacements and Hüsker Dü came along (and new wavers figured out Prince), as I understand it. Extremely silly, probably too silly. Not as funny as it thinks it is. Still, probably at least as fun as “Walking the Cow” by Daniel Johnston. More fun than most of the album it’s on, too. 6.5

A Rudimentary Peni self-portrait.

Rudimentary Peni “Radio Schizo“ (from Death Church, 1985; London anarchist punk/hardcore/death-rock band): More rock guitars, hushed deadpan lead vocal, crazier voices in the background that keep repeating some slogan over and over. Rudimentary Peni? Has to be. This was super short but weird and kinda hookful. Which is often the case with these blokes, who just as often lately I get a hunch just might be my favorite hardcorers. Maybe Voivod’s too, apparently. 6.5

Ut “Spore” (from Griller, 1989;  all-female NYC no wave trio): Okay more echoing reverberating guitar rock, with pained frantic singing. “Looooooooooooong you traaaaaaaveellllled” — wow they travel quite a long ways with those three words alone. Maybe Ut, who showed up a couple times last time? Somehow this strikes me as less pretentious if I assume a woman’s singing. But yeah, she’s speaking in tongues again. Her voice slips into a growl, but mostly it seems she’s having a seizure, making up a language on the spot. Still…kind of sluggish, really. Heavy though! Especially those drums. Ends on a reverberating chord. 5.5

Bigod 20 “Breeders” (from Steel Works, 1992; German techno/ industrial/electronic body music band): Yet more echoey industrial dub syncopation to start. Machine rhythm, clanking back and forth, then an itchy funk bassline over rubber baby buggy bumper beat. A long intro, and then: “Extermination is a matter of fact,” “Collaboration is a matter of fact,” “They are the leaders” x 3. Eastern Europeans, but not sure who; Borghesia is still the best I got. “Show us a secret desire,” “We don’t lie” x 3. Now “We are the leaders.” Music like this must depend on some specific brand of drug for both production and consumption, but I’m not sure what it’d be. Now “we are the breeders.” But they’re not the Breeders, obviously. Seems pretty generic, for its genre. 5.5

Red Lorry Yellow Lorry “See the Fire“ (from This Today EP, 1984; later included on band anthologies by these Leeds, UK gothic post-punks): Underwater gloom with a Joy Divisiony kickoff. Deep male vocal submerged beneath sea level. Once again, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry seems the obvious guess. “Kill the daytime, kill the nighttime” — whatever else this is, it is clearly goth!! Dub effects again, both echo and space. Something about “a sense of surprise,” but nothing here really surprises me. And honestly, except for the soul song and maybe the cow one, I can imagine just about every selection so far being part of the same DJ set. Think I’m ready to move on to a different bar. 6

Gary Byrd, conducting his ’70s radio soul train.

Gary Byrd, “Soul Travelin’, Pt. 1 (The G.B.E.)“ (1973 single, later a bonus track on expanded 2011 reissue of Presenting the Gary Byrd Experience; “Byrd was a radio talk-show host in the ’80s and ’90s, appearing weekdays on radio station WLIB in New York City” [discogs] who wrote lyrics for two songs on Stevie Wonder’s Songs in the Key of Life): Finally, a change of pace! Soul horns, ’70s Blaxploitation beats. “Let me take you soul travelin’,” the tourguide beckons. “We’re on our way to the nitty gritty, this is Detroit, Michigan, the place they call the Motor City.” Reminds us it’s the home of Stevie Wonder, then we head on to Curtis Mayfield in Chicago, but it’s freezing there so we fly to San Francisco for Sly. Then Gary, Indiana for the Jackson Five, and every time a soul icon is named we get a riff or lick from one of their hits. Next we party in Hollywood with Isaac Hayes “and your partner John Shaft,” then Memphis for Al Green. We pack our bags for each subsequent town too quickly for me to place all the song quotes off the top of my head, though I definitely recognize them. And the back-and-forth-across-the-map zigzag suggests a lack of prior route planning, but there’s no gas bill. Anyway, I think this is Gary Byrd, who as I recall was some kind of radio DJ. And it’s basically rapping, or at least 80% rapping, rhyming in rhythm a few years before “Rapper’s Delight.” It’s also like those Buchanan and Goodman flying saucer medleys, or for that matter Grandmaster Flash on the wheels of steel years later, full of snippets from current hits. But Byrd doesn’t name them. I’m adding at last half a point for being ahead of its time, because good for him. 8

Naif Orchestra, “Desaparesidos“ (from Danser!, 1982; Italodisco/ fuzzdance duo, apparently from Tuscany, Italy): After a laughing and mumbly intro, scientists conduct a gurgling synthesizer lab experiment with weird no wave saxophones and a mannered voice that I’m pretty certain belongs to Mofungo. It’s over almost before it starts, but hides all sorts of interesting thoughts and ideas in its itsy-bitsy package. 7

On their legal holiday off work, Mofungo fish for illegal bodies in the East River.

Mofungo, “Labor Day“ (from Work, 1989; NYC post-no-wave band): Super angular weird-time-signature prog start, unless this is part two of the previous track. “Jimmy joined the union in 1933” — so wait, is it still the same song? Mofungo were the kind of Lower East Side lefties who’d put Frederick Douglas on album covers, and who’d aim protests at the Reagan administration propping up massacre squads in El Salvador, and who’d cover Woody Guthrie’s pro-immigrant classic “Deportee” (still timely in 2024.) Who but Mofungo would sing about union benefits helping some guy buy a house in Queens, while working as a foreman at the World Trade Center? And this was the late ’80s, when the WTC still had years of life left, and naming it in a lyric could still count as a critique of capitalism. A lovely off-kilter one, too. 7.5

Carambolage “Das “Männlein“ (from Carambolage, 1980; all-female new wave trio from Fresenhegen, Germany): Cartoon oompah, and the vocals sound like Germans pretending to be Japanese. Though they do say “auf weidersehen.” Der Plan? Wow, right when all the industrial stuff started to wear me out this mix suddenly went askew. You can imagine impish little elves hopping on one foot from mushrooms to toadstools all through the Black Forest to this one. 7

Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, “Generation“ (B-side of “Chance” single, 1985; later on band anthologies): Bass in forefront, guitar further back. We’re back to Joy Division territory; not really sure where to draw the line between goth and industrial so maybe this counts as both. Jeez, did I really include that many Red Lorry Yellow Lorry songs in this dump? As loud as it is, I’m not sure how much music likes this “rocks” me, to be honest, but it sure is enveloping. Is he talking about “free verse?” “Reverbs”? Guess in an odd way I find the monotony of this kind of stuff soothing and reassuring in the background. Guitars do a air-show formation, zooming back and forth above. Title seems to be “Generation.” Ends prematurely, not that I was begging for more. 6

Der Moderne Man, “Roter Mond“ (from Unmodern, 1982; Hannover, Germany “experimental” Neue Deutsche Welle band): Fuzzy wuzzy guitar, big drum echo, more gloom from the tomb, cadaverous or at least sickly gent sticking out his tongue and saying “aaaaaaahhhhhh” …..And when he starts reciting, he’s clearly German. Easy to forget how much Joy Division changed the game. Wish I could place what ’70s pop hit those bells tinkling back there remind me of. Unless it’s an ice cream truck. At least this goth groan’s less run-of-the-mill — some interesting changes, quiet to loud to quiet shifts. And the tinkling — maybe actually a xylophone? — is the last thing you hear, neato. 6.5

Prince Charles and the City Beat Band, “Rise” (from Gang War, 1980): New wave funk, with emphasis on the funk. Prince Charles and the City Beat Band? Fat (and phat) basslines, though not as inexorable a groove as, say, Slave used to churn out. Frontman makes gospel-derived commands: “Rise! Everybody rise!” “Stand up!” So somehow a grandchild of Sly’s “Stand. Plus there’s probably the whole history of soul songs about rising — Maze come to mind. The lyrics strike me as totally clichéd though : “I got the solution,” “revolution,” “move your feet to the beat.” Perfunctory chants, perfunctorily delivered. But at least we get nuclear synth squiggles straight out of Trouble Funk. 6

Passionate British new wavers crack that whip.

The Passions, “Palava” (from Michael and Miranda, 1980; UK new wave band from Shepherd’s Bush, London): Sub-B-52s ish-new wave with a woman turning down our games and rhyming “karma” with “double entendre” with maybe “candelabra,” okay maybe not that last one but something in the vicinity. “Say what you mean and mean what you say,” she suggests — Usually good advice. So, geeky kids who wish their Midwestern college town was Athens, Georgia? 6

Fred Frith “Balance“ (from Speechless, 1981; “Avant-rock/ experimental/free improvisation/contemporary classical” “multi-instrumentalist, composer, and improviser” [wikipedia] from Sussex, UK who co-founded Henry Cow and was a member of the Art Bears, among other art troupes; he is also music sociologist Simon Frith’s brother): Backwards talking, then some deep dub that I assume (at least at first) is the real Jamaican deal, not some pale US or UK approximation. The guitar is even playing a spaghetti western melody. Takes its gradual time getting where it’s going, and isn’t the worse for it. The melody turns almost classically refined, then into something I could imagine Mofungo doing, except I don’t remember them doing dub instrumentals. Though then again by that point it’s not particularly dub anymore anyway, though it’s certainly warped. And eventually sort of aimless. Where the heck is this going? Eventually it returns to the 19th Century European part, then to a Jamaican bassline. Saunters around and gets lost, then finds its way back home. Really is a kind of composition. You know it’s ending when it gets a lot quieter. 6.5.

Carla Bley “Doctor Why“ (from Escalator Over the Hill, 1971; late  Oakland-born jazz keyboardist/composer/bandleader): Everything’s fine, the doctor’s here, “nurses dying their hair don’t care if the horses [something horses do] it doesn’t seem to matter there.” Comes off as a wacky show tune from a play about a veterinary hospital. At least until sourish horns hint that it’s more likely something off Carla Bley’s Escalator Over the Hill. Which I’m pretty sure some people call her masterpiece but it sure does seem to have a lot of annoying skits. 5.5

Cigarette machines make for a Dangereus Liason indeed.

Liasons Dangereuses, “Liasons Dangereuses“ (from Liasons Dangereuses,” 1981; Neu Deutsche Welle/electropunk/EBM-pioneering (says wikipedia) trio from Düsseldorf, Germany): Is this the same song? Okay, not. Foreign voices randomly crisscross back and forth — well not exactly, more like sounds crisscross back and forth behind two foreign declaimers. Who sorta get swallowed at the end. 6

Red Asphalt, “Sailin’ On“ (from No Impact: A 10​-​Year Retrospective, 2023; according to discogs, this “South Orange County Experimental /Garage/Noise Rock” band is not the same as the 1978-1982 Red Asphalt from San Francisco that I was actually curious about, whoops): Acoustic strums. We don’t love him anymore, so he’s walking out the door. He’s sailing on, moving on. Oh this is somebody covering “Sailin’ On” by Bad Brains, out-of-tunely and acoustically. I forget who does it and I don’t know what’s more tired, trying to “punk up” a normal classic or trying to “normal up” a punk classic. Well okay, it does still get a wee bit of roll to it. Singer starts whining, at one point. Then eventually it speeds up into a regular cover, but why? I mean, they are competent about it I suppose. Just seems totally unnecessary. Even if it was Bad Brains’ second most memorable song (third at most), to be honest it’s not like even the original was all that incredible to being with. I’m sure this was fun to do in their garage the day they thought it up. 3.5

The Flying Lizards, “In My Lifetime“ (from Fourth Wall, 1981; “formed and led by record producer David Cunningham the group were a loose collective of avant-garde and free-improvising musicians” from the UK sometimes including David Toop and Vivien Goldman, says wikipedia; the New York Times reported in 2008 that, as a freshman at Occidental College in L.A., Barack Obama used to listen to them): This sounds like another cover, or at least its tune rings a bell, albeit played on strange screwy instruments. “Goodbye my friend,” it sounds like. “I don’t want to see your face ever again,” repeated multiple times like in some late Beatles song. I’m not even sure which Beatles song I’m thinking of — circa “I Am the Walrus,” or I dunno, maybe something off the White Album, or maybe the Residents covering something off the White Album on Third Reich ‘n Roll. This was short and um arty. 6

Pyrolator, “Die Haut Der Frau“  (from Ausland, 1981): The “hyaaah!” yells shout “industrial!” at me, like somebody cracking his whip on the sticky fetish club floor. More shuffled up in the studio, backwards-masked vocals…actually what’s weird is that the speedy cadence of his words puts me in mind of Bad Brains in “Pay to Cum” even though this is an entirely different style of music, so maybe H.R. and company were still just fresh in my head from before. There are traffic jam sound effects and silverware clanking around, plugs being pulled, switches being turned off and on. No real beginning or ending to this one. 6.5

Lemmings singing about killing themselves — how appropriate!

Lemming, “Suicide Without Fear“ (from Lemming, 1975; “Dutch glam rock band from Brielle, Rozenburg and Rotterdam” [discogs]): Suzi’s selling seashells by the seashore — well, at least I hear the shore. Tide flows in and out, and somebody’s strumming “Hotel California” on an acoustic guitar by the seaside with their toes in the sand, and there are seagulls and it’s raining. After all that torture-cellar industrial noise, the comparative calm of this one is more than welcome. And I do appreciate the environmental effects. Maybe even children running around and building sand castles in the distance. But then the storm blows in, and the worried guitarist starts strumming harder, like he’s ready to sing an actual song. And now he’s singing, British Invasion style, about the sea and seagulls — and drowning in the sea, “yeah yeah yeah, suicide once a year.” How would that work, anyway? A flamenco band winds its way in and all the flamingos dance on the beach. This does sound familiar by now by the way, though I can’t remember off hand who does it. Has multiple parts, too — now it’s back to being ominous, and a woman’s voice (more likely a man pretending to be a woman) is crying in apparent peril while men surround her with funereal chants of mourning, which clearly fit in with the lyrical theme. But then the sun comes back (you can tell by the guitars!) and we’re back to celebrating the annual suicide ritual again, sacrificing lives without fear. Guitars are actually quite balmy, sort of jazz-country like a Marshall Tucker Band jam, though I suspect this predates them (and “Hotel California” too, for that matter.) And this one does stick with you. Just not the name of whoever does it. One of the longer tracks here, but holds up its end of the bargain. 7.5.

Rema Rema, “Feedback Song“ (from Wheel in the Roses EP, 1980, and included on retrospective albums from 2019 and 2020; British post-punk band together circa 1979-1980, says wikipedia): Adams Family music, slowly I turned step by step, but just a guitar player and drummer doing it. They’re playing in a vacuum, and also a dark room, repeating the same riff and beat over and over again several times at the start, maybe speeding up just slightly as they go, until some space age Hawkwind or Amon Düül electronics take their place. Dark new wave, “steady walking, steady talking” — this is what I might think Wall of Voodoo would sound like if Stan Ridgway’s noirish deadpan wasn’t so immediately recognizable, and I am certain this is not him. Chrome? Well, the electronics could be Chrome. The guitar, which isn’t metal enough to be Chrome, now and then could be “Dancing With Myself” inside a walk-in freezer like the one Peter got stuck in once on The Brady Bunch. The guy is not really singing, more like reciting a poem or telling a story, with no plot you could pinpoint. Somebody walks in and plays chopsticks on a baby grand piano. Ending is more Chrome-ish, as everything builds up into a down-filled comforter of white noise. 6.5

Winston Tong, “No Regrets“ (from Theoretically Chinese, 1985; San Francisco “actor, playwright, visual artist, puppeteer, and singer-songwriter… best known for his vocals in Tuxedomoon and for winning an Obie award” [wikipedia]): New wave via Middle Eastern classical music start. “Toooouch me, only an illluuuuusion,” swoon croons for the techno-pop crowd. He sounds like somebody his fans take super seriously but everybody else only remembers for his haircut — or lack thereof, if this is Classix Nouveux, whose singer was bald. (I’ve never heard Classix Nouveaux and am only guessing how they sounded.) Anyway, this crooner’s crooning about having “no regrets.” I bet this was a pop hit all through middle Europe in the middle ’80s…well, Germany and Austria and the Benelux at least. Where it is considered just “pop,” maybe even “adult pop,” or dare I say it “sophisti-pop,” nothing weird like new wave. But whoever it is, I’m sure they had much bigger and better hits — this is a minor memory in their ouvré. And it’s not in German, it’s in English. “No regreh-eh-eh-ehts, no-woaughh.” He’s inviting you to “a time in your life,” so RSVP already! All he wants is an answer! As beauty goes, this is more beautiful than most of what came before it. And oh yeah, there’s a smooth jazz sax at the end. 6

The surprisingly not Central European Winston Tang.