Published: Pop Culture Corn
June, 2000
Credit:
Jay Nagy
Credit:
David Whittemore
Okay, now some details. An
apparently-defunct band comes
out of hiding to play a low-key
club show with some old favorites
and one or two new ones they've
just written--and is so "pleasantly
surprised" by the resultant
recording that a live album is
released documenting that special
night.
If that's not a cliche these days, what is? All it's missing is the
accompanying MTV special. Now forget all that simplistic
coincidence, since it's not a bad bet that you don't have any old
favorites by the Jazz Butcher. That's right, if the world didn't
know a band was here, even with eighteen years and fifteen
albums, can you really call it a comeback?
Well, there's some rabid pockets of people around the world
who would call it just that, at least in a literal sense. The
Glorious set resurrects some long out-of-print songs that
cultists have been clamoring for lo these many years. For
someone who's never seen the name or just never actually heard
anything, these twelve originals can be old favorites in about an
hour. For good measure, the perennial "Roadrunner" by
Jonathan Richman's Modern Lovers caps it off.
Don't let the name throw you off if you're new to this group. It
sounds right at home next to Throbbing Gristle and the
Revolting Cocks. The Jazz Butcher himself (Pat Fish) is nothing
of the kind. As the album progresses, the sound builds up from
just two electric guitars (including some gorgeous hollow body
work by Max Eider that Grant Green and Les Paul would envy),
adding a bass, a harmonica, a brushed trap set and an accordion
much like Talking Heads' "Stop Making Sense" routine.
The soft, jazzy duo songs grow to an infectious noise, not unlike
Mr. Richman or, for that matter, the Velvet
Underground--raw, old-fashioned rock played with both
serious passion and relaxed humor. The album is encapsulated in
two consecutive tracks. "Caroline Wheeler's Birthday Present,"
which sounds like Bo Diddley playing "Tequila," is horribly
catchy and its "go go, go go gorilla!" refrain instantly burns
itself in your brain and starts looping. If you can get past it
without playing it again, you slide into "The Long Night
Starts," the sort of tender, frank ballad Lou Reed excels at that
speaks like an old friend, as you stare at the wall on Saturday
night, the one you love occupied with someone else. Then the
gears shift again into the cautionary tale of what happened to
Bigfoot when he was attracted by the neon lights and checked
into a Pacific Northwest motel.
The success of this date in Hamburg last February spurred the
"live after death" JBC into a sold-out US tour, and another
round of dates is starting up right now. Here's your primer, and
you'll probably agree that a live appearance is not to be missed.
ROIR
CD
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