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September 30, 2007
Numerology Counterpoint: Dirtier Thirty
There's been quite a stretch of slain digits on Numerology's altar since I last piped up with a conflicting view. I guess that was to be expected. As the numerals continue to climb, the songs about them decrease. With fewer songs, the chances that two might hold similar sway begin to dwindle. We'll soon be lucky to find a standard bearer for off-brand numbers like 43, and will long for the days that we could lob rhetorical bombs. So, because I might not get another chance for quite some time, at thirty, I'll take a stand. Needless to say, I'm also right.
A few words about the number itself. Thirty is a conflicted number, relatively low in the scheme of things, but with a weight to it that demands a bit of respect. Twenty bucks for a steak or a concert ticket seems about right, but for thirty, whatever it is had better be amazing. Waiting for twenty minutes is a bit annoying, but get held up a full half hour, and it's a gripe worth angrily repeating. Then there's the notion of age, perhaps the ol' Roman triple x's most dominant cultural connotation. As I quickly speed towards it myself, and continue to amass pals who easily disprove the touched upon aspersions on over-thirty trustworthiness, it increasingly seems like no big deal. But, then again, "Get it together, you're a twenty-seven year old man!" just doesn't have that same shameful sting that an inserted thirty would bring. It seems to me that all things being equal, a victorious representative should carry a bit of gravitas.
I've got nothing against Chuck Berry, or his winning entry, "30 Days." It's undeniably fun, for sure, but I'd never place it amongst Berry's legendary best. It's got the boogie piano, it's got the velvet howls, it screams out our number again and again. But it's missing the indelible narrative of a track like "Johhny B. Goode" or "You Never Can Tell." If another choice were present that had equal or greater artistic merit, and also the weight I was looking for, I wouldn't hesitate to leave it behind.
Klein's runner up was Pere Ubu's apocalyptic "30 Seconds Over Tokyo." It stand as a monument to urban dread; post punk music from before punk had fully cemented itself into the public consciousness. But really, there are some problems with PU's track that knock it a notch or two lower than Berry's second tier. First and foremost, the creeping tension of its central guitar line is never really given the chance for release. Around the two minute mark, when you're expecting the song to provide the sonic destruction that its title implies, the momentum completely derails into a free form wank fest that was probably inspired by Zappa, Beefheart, or some other jerk who hates workable song structure. The menacing lead re-enters, but :40 seconds later we're back in some kind of goofy hoedown that evokes clowns under the big top more than bombers over Japan. When the cool part of the song finally snaps back, our interest has already flatlined. It's like they had the structural kernel of an all-time classic and got way too far up their own asses to pull it off. It was nailed once though, just not by Pere Ubu.
While the CBGB's brand was taking its first steps in New York, Cleveland was ruled by Rocket From the Tombs. (They are not to be confused with with the shitty Rocket From the Crypt, though their name choice is indeed puzzlingly lame.) The band only existed for roughly eight months and never got around to making an actual record, but the shadow they cast on Midwestern punk rock is long and deep. RFTT's definitive line up was stocky Ubu frontman David Thomas--then going by the ridiculously awesome stage name Crocus Behemoth, Cleveland scenester supreme Peter Laughner, Craig Bell--bassist for local punks Mirrors, and two soon-to-be founding members of scuzz rock stalwarts, Dead Boys; drummer Johnny "Madman" Madansky and Gene O'Connor, ultimately known as Cheetah Chrome. There were alot of internal tensions in that group, that in retrospect make their early demise seem obvious. How could the regressive Stooges pounding of the Dead Boys sit side by side with Crocus' art rock freak show? How would Laughner's earnest Lou Reed-as-a-singer-songwriter schtick go down when singing beside a three hundred pound monster in a judge's robe and a pair of skinny glitter-sick gutter punks? Though the fantasy tracklist for an imaginary Rocket LP (imagine a side one containing both "Final Solution" and "Sonic Reducer") would have placed the band in the highest echelon of 70's rock, the center ultimately couldn't hold.
The only real document of the band's prowess is a 2002 compilation entitled, The Day the Earth Met the... Rocket From the Tombs. Cobbled together from fuzzy live performances and a surprisingly good 1975 practice session, it gives only a glimpse into what could have been. For the uninitiated, here are two tracks to demonstrate the group's breadth. "Sonic Reducer" is basically unchanged from the caveman thud of its eventual DB's version. Laughner, who would be an actual dead boy due to drug abuse shortly hereafter, has a grungy sincerity that would later be covered by Axl Rose and blatantly appropriated by Jeff Tweedy on Wilco's "Misunderstood."
Rocket From the Tombs - "Sonic Reducer"
Rocket From the Tombs - "Amphetamine"
Then there's RFTT's version of "30 Seconds Over Tokyo," which, like the rest of their songs, was never released under the name of its original makers. This recording, again taken from the '75 tape, is worse in terms of audio fidelity, but better in every other sense than its Ubu counterpart. You have to remember that this band still had the untidy rock heart of the Dead Boys stuck in its chest. Cheetah and the Madman wouldn't stand for the Trout Mask circle jerk that completely derails Prof. Klein's runner-up. Here, when the song is shaken from Laughner's creeping lead, it's inherited by Chrome's wild flailing. The crawling lead in is actually given the violent pay off that we expect, thanks to the in the red explosiveness of the 'Boys. The star is still Peter's snaking guitar and Crocus' increasingly unhinged delivery, but when it returns here, it really feels like our men have taken some enemy fire. It's raw and it's primal, and it was recorded during rehearsal. This is how this band sounded in practice. The difference between the two versions is the thin line between unrealized potential and a compromised reality.
For thirty, that just seems right.
Rocket From the Tombs - "30 Seconds Over Tokyo"
Numerology is our pal Dave's ill advised quest to find the definitive song for every number from one to a hundred. It's starting to get a bit tricky.
Previously: No. 1, 2-4, 5-7, 7 (counterpoint), 8, 9, 10/11, 12/13. 13 (counterpoint), 14/15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26/27, 28 , 29 , 30
Posted by Jeff Klingman at September 30, 2007 03:43 PM
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Comments
I can only tip my scorched fedora in your direction as I stand in the bright destruction of your logic and scholarship. I was wondering how you were going to defend the sonic meltdown of '30 Seconds' over a second-tier but still authentically cool Chuck Berry song, and out you pop with a more damaged and yet much less obtuse version of the song that, indeed, lives up to its premise. Long live Crocus Behemoth. I saw Ubu a few times live during their most radio-friendly mid-80s incarnation, and Mr. Thomas still brought a palpable air of amiable weirdness to the proceedings.
Posted by: david at September 30, 2007 08:51 PM
Madansky's drums really make a difference too I think, going from skittish to an almost military crispness. I was gonna mention it, but I was being long winded enough.
Posted by: Jeff K at September 30, 2007 09:20 PM
