Unpopular’s Texas correspondent William Crain is Back On Earth Again…

I was a strange kid. For instance, unlike the typical teenager I actually wanted to play my music for my parents and have them get it, like it and even hear what I did. A rather tall order, and while I doubt they heard what I heard, they did appreciate bits her and there and they were surprisingly tolerant of my manic obsession with music. I remember my Dad being restrained if slightly uncomfortable listening to me blather on about the Beatles- even encouraging him in embarrassingly earnest terms that only a pre-adolescent can manage to empathize with me in the sadness of the their disbanding. I’m his age now and I can only imagine him thinking, kid it gets way sadder than that, just you wait.

My Dad got a kick out of some of The Smith’s lyrics. I remember one line in particular that made him laugh was “I was looking for a job, and then I found a job, and heaven knows I’m miserable now”. I like the way this deadpan humor translates from Northern England to East Texas. Maybe it’s an Irish thing. My Dad was the same age and from the same sort of background as Elvis and they both had what at first might seem a strange fondness for the humor of Monty Python. Hillbilly humor has echoes of the absurd and a love of playing with language that you also find in Python and the Goons. And so both remain eternally weird and strikingly modern.

As a kid I started out with dinosaurs and Saturday morning cartoons but soon hit the harder stuff; Marvel comics, the Godzilla & ‘Planet of the Apes’ films, ‘Star Wars’ and Kiss. Music by the age of ten or eleven replaced almost all of that. I started off with a narrow palette and it continues to expand as I get older. Sometimes I wish I could go back to school to try and absorb all the things I wasn’t interested in then, that I have at least a modicum of curiosity about now. Would I learn more? One would hope. Activities can feel like a burden, but without out them you can start to sink underneath the weight of the everyday and do less and less and you find your world getting smaller and smaller until you disappear altogether. This is easy to do, too easy.

So what about tearing up a room to the accompaniment of The Cyrkle’s ‘Red Rubber Ball’ LP? It might seem like a strange combination but its actually works really well. That whole record contains resentful lyrics delivered in a passive aggressive “cheerful” tone, and set to upbeat yet raw folk pop arrangements. All of this just serves to emphasize the barely repressed rage seething underneath the album. It really could warrant a whole genre. Passive Aggressive Pop! I flash on a initially harmless yet deceptively sinister looking male college fraternity band playing this brand of pop, okay basically the cover of said album. All mid sixties turtleneck and houndstooth jackets, hair in a brush cut, no greasy kids stuff. “But what about Willie Mays” I hear Dylan say, cultural imperialist swine have you not heard of a natural. No conks in Africa mister, though strictly speaking I have no idea if that’s true. Doesn’t matter keep reading we’ll figure things out together.

Backstage, back on earth again. Let’s consider George Harrison’s ’33 1/3’ album, where George famously mistakes Smokey Robinson for an Indian deity, a transgression for which he can surely be forgiven. The album is an interesting cross of some mid-60’s worthy Harrison and somewhat soft headed yacht rock that ranges from strangely bewitching (‘Crackerbox Palace’) to depending on your mood snooze inducing (‘Learning How To Love You’), shades of 70’s Pink Floyd in the best of the latter’s moments. And if you like the sound of the Rhodes piano as I do you will find a lot to love here, he says boldly embracing his inner hack.

The opening track sounds almost like George mixing it up with Sly Stone on a solid if workman like night. Inside the gatefold George gets all cozy with a stuffed penguin, it’s that kind of record. Panned fairly hard on release listened to anew its carves out a psychedelic disco arena with a bit of the ol’ creepy ambience of the ‘White Album’ and The Beach Boy’s ’20/20′. And did I mention there are a lot of what we would now refer to as “vintage” keyboard sounds. This record pairs well with (he says embracing his inner food critic) ’15 Big Ones/Beach Boys Love You’, ‘Black & Blue’, ‘It’s Hard’, ‘Walls and Bridges’, ‘Animals’, ‘Wings At the Speed of Sound’ and ‘Saturday Night Fever’. With the exception ‘SNF’ all records that were not well received at the time of release but in retrospect have many charms. Hell if any of those records were released today there would be a solid contingent of folks declaring them masterpieces. A combination of both a lower bar than the time in which they were released and the more open and eclectic ears that the last 40 odd years have wrought.

I’ve got Hollis Frampton’s short films on the TV while I spin 45’s for my own enjoyment though I would love to do this for others and create a similar environment. Bongo jazz is my speciality. Ken Jacobs and Maya Deren’s films would also be in the mix visually. Right now I’m listening to the split single between the Clientele and Clocks Strikes Thirteen where they cover each others songs. It’s lovely and blends nicely into ‘See Emily Play’ then into JFA’s psychedelic single ‘My Movie’.

JFA was an Arizona hardcore band turned psych who could have added considerably to Sam Knee’s ‘A Scene In Between USA’. Though I highly recommend all his prior books for those interested in the intersection of fashion and music in Britain from the 60’s through the 80’s, the inevitable reissue of this book which focuses on the American scene would be considerably improved by adding JFA and more Paisley Underground and more of the Southern California Mod scene. Leave the D.C. bands out as they have been widely documented and with the exception of Nation of Ulysses’ didn’t have much going in the visual department. In general British bands in the 80’s were much more concerned about visual style than the American counterparts – where it was often almost a badge of honor to look plain or sloppy. JFA started out as Skate Punks with a love of Funkadelic and progressed from there. By 1986 they had their own neo-psychedelic sound (like a band from an AIP movie) and their own Paisley skateboard which along with Rob Roskopp’s board by Santa Cruz and any of the 80’s Zorlac boards (from Texas!) with Pushead’s graphics rank as my top 3 most desirable skateboards.

Speaking of the weirdness of the 80’s its nice to report that Public Access TV is still where some of the old wildness of the 20th Century can be located. Here in Austin Texas, there are three channels that run the gamut from strange to goofy local band’s low budget videos, to apocalyptic preachers, genuine super nerd talk shows and a lady who goes by the title Supreme Master. And let me just state for the record that the Supreme Master despite being a female has some world class brass Australian size big balls. I saw this episode where she stiffed the performers for her Chinese New Years celebration by giving this rather dodgy story about the janitor changing the lock on the door where the red envelope containing their money resided so she would regrettably not be able to pay them. And then she gave them her love from her “read heart” and departed and I am not shitting she started singing, almost to herself, a few bars of ‘All You Need Is Love’. Huge baller is the Supreme Master. Reminds me of AC/DC’s drag performance of ‘Baby Please Don’t Go’ on Australian TV in 1975. And what exactly is it with Australians obsession with testicles? As God used to say in the bad old days before the new covenant (much better than the old one) Gird Up Your Loins! *

I used to mow the lawn with a picture of Rimbaud on my lawnmower, a reference to Corso’s ‘Marriage’ poem, but I don’t think anyone ever got it. Sometimes making a reference that almost no one will get somehow makes it more exhilarating This girl I used to date from Barcelona was so lovely, a bit crazy and infuriating, but also a lot fun. She was as thin as a string bean but loved to eat and have sex. So we would spend time together doing just that all day long. It was one of the best relationships I’ve ever had although it only lasted 3 months. I used to leave her place literally vibrating from the energy generated from those prolonged sessions. Walking down her hallway all goofy and loose with a dumb grin on my face. She never asked me about what I did for a living. I loved that. So different than Americans who always want to know what you do to make money in part I think because of this whole culture of networking and seeing if you are somebody that might be valuable to know. Social climbing. Really distasteful stuff and from my limited experience not as prevalent outside America. I guess one of the biggest compliments she ever gave me, and she didn’t give many, was “you don’t seem like most Americans”.

Well that’s about it sports fans. Live your truth, keep loving who you are and all that. Gonna go watch my stories now. Love on ya!

*Carl Jung’s ‘Answer to Job’ is highly recommended reading, but first you need to read the Book of Job.

William Crain 2023