Loading ...
Sorry, an error occurred while loading the content.


Expand Messages
  • ninplant@xs4all.nl
    wReck thiS meSS ~ Radio Patapoe 97.2 ~ Amsterdam Ethno-Illogical Psycho-Radiographies: no. 239: Wreck vs. Blurt* Maandag, 103 November 2003 (17.00 to 19.00)
    Message 1 of 1 , Nov 11, 2003
      wReck thiS meSS ~ Radio Patapoe 97.2 ~ Amsterdam

      Ethno-Illogical Psycho-Radiographies: no. 239: Wreck vs. Blurt*

      Maandag, 103 November 2003 (17.00 to 19.00)

      SIMUL-streaming <http://freeteam.nl/patapoe/>

      "Milton sang, too. Well, he scatted, yodelled and barked."
      * Sukhdev Sandhu, 2003

      "the round earth preposterous"
      * Ted Milton

      "We were diverted by the ugliness of some of its trees.
      This world of ours became Bing Crosby's recording of 'Silent Night'.
      I was too exhausted even to throw myself under the car..."
      * Ted Milton

      On the Stage > Blurt [1]
      La Morte Religieuse > Blurt [1]
      Grave Spit > > Blurt [2]
      That Flank > Blurt [1]
      The Windmills of Lingerrary > Blurt [1]
      Church of Bank > Blurt [1]
      Trees > Blurt [3]
      Eat Up Your House > Blurt [1]
      Superfan > Superstoned [4]
      In Kharm's Way #1 > Ted Milton & Sam Britton [5]
      In Kharm's Way #2 > Ted Milton & Sam Britton [5]
      Ruminant Plinth > Blurt [6]
      Immigrant Dub > Basement 5 [7]
      Crack attack > Big Stick [8]
      Superman > Superstoned [4]
      In Kharm's Way #3 > Ted Milton & Sam Britton [4]
      He Sold Himself Short > Blurt [1]
      Nights Before > Blurt [9]
      Go Cat > Pigbag [10]
      Francis > Blurt [1]
      The Bespoke > Blurt [1]
      No Go Dada > Blurt [11]
      Kasimick's Tractors > Blurt [1]
      Postcard > Blurt [1]
      Sunday You Need Love > Trio [12]
      That Flank Redux > Blurt [1]

      [1] "Celebrating the Bespoke Cell of Little Ease" [1999] There are
      very very few bands and voices that hold up over a period of 20 years
      especially those that arose out of punk or disco. Blurt, like the
      Fall, like Mark Stewart and the Maffia are one of those anomalous
      sonic-poetic mysteries, consistently sounding both rudimentary and
      sophisticated, rhythmic and improvisationally complex, poetic in that
      both write lyrics that beat 99% of all spoken word. The words allude
      and instigate, are universal and about things happening right now.
      Ted Milton is a kind of humanoidal Frankenstein poet combining the
      inspired lunacy of Leon Thomas and the anarcho beatness of Kenneth
      Patchen. "In the dank shadow of the church of bankŠ"

      [2] "Friday the 12"

      [3] "Blurt"

      [4] "Superstoned" on Jarring Effects <jarringeffects.free.fr>, 2003.
      On a great inventive label. This is like the Archies kicking the ass
      of Abba as produced by a Beck elbowing his way past Aphex Twin. This
      is breathing bad Air onto a Daft Punk Stiff Little Jesus & the Mary
      Chain. This is spilling cheap Dubonay on the stiff shirt front of R.
      Stevie Moore. This is MTV without the TV. This Sig Sig Sputnik smoked
      in Lou Reed's pipe. This is what is not yet. This is Blurt on Ikea

      [5] "In Kharm's Way" on Nadine. The poetry of Daniil Kharms on this
      hand-produced menacing-beautiful package of poetry booklet and CD.
      Featuring the always engaging vocals of that fast-tongued saxophonic
      wordsmith, Ted Milton with that magical simplicity that defined and
      made Blurt such a great cross between punk, funk and no wave in the
      mid-80s. Here poesie plus drum and bass.

      [6] "Ruminant Plinth"

      [7] "Wild Dub: Dread Meets Punk Rocker" on Select Cuts
      <www.echobeach.de>, 2003. A really wonderful bit of under-recognised
      music history. Despite a bit of hype here and there the meeting of
      punk and dread was a really high moment of high potential and high
      ideals. Naiveté, drugs, cynicism, Thatcher-reaganism all killed the
      potential of this anger meets sublime beats. This is a nervous tic in
      the eye over a scrunched shoulder.

      [8] This single was really hot ca 1987. It was pure energy and punk
      funk fed by the cynicism of squashed dreams. It came out at a time
      when I was fully starting to appreciate Blurt. By that I don't mean I
      bought anything. I bought almost NO records for a period of almost 12
      years when I was what one could say on an aescetic's budget, living
      on a frayed thread of pasta and cheap beer and vitaminsŠ

      [9] "Smoke time".

      [10] "Getting Up" 1982 Stiff vinyl 12-inch. Incredible punk-funk
      off-shoot of the even more incredible Pop Group, one of the most
      uncompromising musical ensembles that made Brecht look like Bacharach.

      [11] "Bullets For You."

      [12] "Trio" on Mercury, 1982. One of the great great simplistic
      Ur-singles was their "Da Da Da". So simple and yet somehow - ah that
      mystery of the simple being the height of haiku sophisticationŠ


      * This playlist is out of sequence to underline the pressing
      time-sensitive fact that one of the great under-valued bands of
      all-time is coming to Amsterdam

      BLURT Words: Having been poor since about 1978, I have always bought
      way less discs than any other music-oriented person. I survived for
      years on devouring the record library at WFMU and recording my weekly
      show on 2 $1 cassettes. One band that kept reappearing in radio shows
      from 1986 through 2003 was Blurt. In other words, most of the
      material I have by blurt is cuts stuck on a series of old show tapes.
      Two others who had a huge influence on me and had some kind of
      overlapping simple sophistication or backbone twitchy improv style
      were the Fall and Mark Stewart & the Maffia. What they have in common
      is the "refusenik" post-dada character and ability [or liability] of
      ad-lib poesie, happenstance brilliance, cool beats that rifle through
      all scenes and signs of metastasized and appropriated vectors of
      cool. Livid, grumpy, inspired, beyond logic into the realm of William
      Blake plus their earth-shattering ability to create bone-clanking
      simple beats that never bore, never induce ennui because each beat
      had some febrile other-oriented consciousness clinging to it, like
      blue mold to a rotting orange mandarineŠ So while you are dancing you
      are having pangs of ... conscience or moral indigestion or... I
      admire MS and Ted Milton, and Mark E. Smith more than most poet
      poets, more than most soothsayers or comedians or political
      commentators or post-situ professors hankering for tenure at some
      pretentious campusŠ Their aim has remained true throughout some 20+
      years now, seldom venturing into high camp or over-exposure and so
      they continue onward, outward, generouslyŠ


      BLURT (UK)
      YES THAT SAME legendarY no-wave sax punk BAND with inspired
      extemporaneous poesie / on their way to headlining
      the annual Transmusicales in Rennes, France


      DJ: Wreck This Mess (NL/US)
      collage collision of retro-traditional
      to speculative-glitch
      with yodeling / speed dub / curious misshapen sounds


      in de OCCII
      Amstelveenseweg 134 Amsterdam
      Zondag 16 november
      Deur open 21:00
      Aanvang 22:00
      Entree 5 euro
      tel: 671 77 78

      A very astute recent review of Blurt:
      WILD, DEVIANT SAX by Sukhdev Sandhu Telegraph,17 July 2003, London, England

      Blurt Union Chapel
      Ted Milton (sax, vocal, violin)
      Steve Eagles (guitar)
      Paul Wigens (drums)

      "No wave" was a frenzied and cacophonous genre of music that emerged
      in late-1970s downtown New York. Drawing on the ecstatic free jazz of
      Sun Ra and the shaky disrhythms of Captain Beefheart, no wave
      pioneers such as Arto Lindsay, Lydia Lunch and James White and the
      Blacks played an extreme form of avant-garde blues, full of screaming
      and skronking, one totally in sync with the depressed global economy
      of that era. One of the most talented performers to have continued
      carrying the flame for that fearsome sound, albeit in his own very
      idiosyncratic fashion, is English saxophonist Ted Milton, aka Blurt.
      His debut single came out in 1979, and he was also one of the first
      artists to record for the Factory label; of late, though, his albums
      have been released in Hungary, Germany and France.

      Now the recent interest in post-punk music has revived British
      interest in him. In advance of a forthcoming retrospective, The Fish
      Needs a Bike, he made a rare live outing in the vestry of the Union
      Chapel. It was a quite extraordinary performance, as fevered and
      kinetic as any I've seen in a long time. Milton, wearing a dapper
      suit and with his mohican slicked back so that he resembled an East
      End gangster, bounced up and down between numbers, taking slugs from
      a bottle of whisky, wired as a boxer ready for a championship bout.
      His saxophone was slung around his neck like a weapon of mass
      destruction. The sound was immense. Drummer Paul Wigens and guitarist
      Steve Eagles fashioned a jagged, barbed-wire backing against which
      Milton, well into his fifties, parped and blasted with purposeful
      abandon. The noise could be used to rouse troops during wartime or to
      drive dictators from their compounds. But it was also very funky, as
      the freeform dancing from sections of the crowd proved.

      Milton sang, too. Well, he scatted, yodelled and barked. Songs such
      as Bullets for You and My Mother Was a Friend of the Enemy of the
      People were arty and Dadaist, but also harkened back to the nonsense
      verse of Lear. It was a great evening: one that yoked the cussed
      non-conformism of fellow British refuseniks Mark Stewart and Mark E.
      Smith to the primal cabaret of Screaming Jay Hawkins. It was wild,
      mad, and utterly galvanising. So long used to blowing in the
      wilderness, way beyond the outer perimeters of fashion, Milton
      suddenly sounded like the deviant, volcanic sound of now.

      Meanwhile Andrea Ethnal in an old Trouser Press wrote:

      Ted Milton is a direct and honest guy. "I will lead the world over
      the end of the Santa Monica Pier," he declares in "No Go Dada"
      (originally on Bullets for You, but also on several of the live
      records: two Blurt credos are recycling and documenting each new
      lineup in performance), "but not until you've raised the temperature
      of the Pacific Ocean to blood temperature and provide warm towels in
      the dressing room." (He's practical, too.) Making a saxophone honk,
      screech and generally giving the impression of Mother Goose meeting
      armageddon, Milton, his drummer brother Jake and guitarist Pete
      Creese debuted in the summer of 1980 with the "My Mother Was a Friend
      of the Enemy of the People" single, followed it with a live debut
      album the following year and have been squawking their way through a
      noisy avant-garde netherworld between jazz and rock ever since. Ted's
      voice is just what his band's name would suggest, a grumbling,
      gurgling, bleating (if not bleeding) blurt of a sound, silenced only
      when his mouth is wrapped around a saxophone reed. That saxophone
      would just as soon imitate fingernails down a chalkboard or elephants
      in heat as conform to the jazzy warmth the instrument might yield in
      other hands. A lover of wordplay, the iconoclastic Milton is capable
      of serious irreverence. In the title track of Bullets for You, a song
      about JFK's assassination, he grunts, "I am a donut.

      You either love Blurt or hate them; there's plenty of validity to
      both views. Blurt is one of the trio's artiest and most orderly
      works. Creese's minimalist guitar spews out repeating patterns of
      stark chords that function almost like a backing samba in "The
      Ruminant Plinth" (against Ted's incoherently belching screams and
      squirming sax) and double as a rhythm track, as well as the melody,
      at other times. Bullets for You is Blurt at its most accessible, and
      the final release by the original lineup. Featuring lyrics that are
      actually decipherable, song structures from Earth instead of Mars,
      and even hooks such as the mutilated two-syllable "you-ooo" in the
      title track, Ted twists his voice (between saxophone tweetings) into
      a yodel-edged squeal that is as catchy and memorable as any pop
      refrain. Jake counters with some equally infectious drumming.

      After Creese left, the brothers hired keyboardist Herman Martin for a
      short time. The cassette-only Six Views in Black, compiled from four
      live performances in March of 1985, contains the band's only known
      recordings with synthesizer. (Blurt's live documentation also
      includes a four-song side of A Factory Quartet.)

      Martin alone accompanies Milton on the solo 12-inch rendition of
      "Ode: O to Be Seen Through Your Eyes!" (a band version of which
      appears on Kenny Rogers' Greatest Hit (Take 2)), a recitation set to
      a harsh synthesized drumbeat. Like Foetus, whose twisted intonations
      his vocals resemble, Milton is a master of mood when allowed out on
      his own. Martin's synth work is anything but traditional, veering
      from the silicon chip gone amok of "Skies Are Blue" to percussive
      layers and textures. Guitarist Steve Eagles replaced Martin for
      Friday the 12th, another live album that contains almost the same
      selections as the twelve-track Six Views, but returns the
      arrangements to guitar. By the time of Poppycock, Paul Wigens had
      taken over the drum seat. Though the only dance-step possible to a
      Blurt record is the quadriplegic head-bob, Smoke Time almost reaches
      a dance-club orientation. With Wigens contributing violin as well as
      percussion, the album features a big, clear beat on the title cut and
      more upfront drumming in the unbelievably intense "Nights Before." A
      smorgasbord of Blurt's various sounds, it revives the band's
      early-period sound in "Bullet-Proof Vest," while "Aboule Ton Fric"
      returns the band to the simpler textures of "The Ruminant Plinth."

      Send all sound material for airplay and review to:
      Wreck This MeSS
      Radio 100 / Radio Patapoe
      bart plantenga
      Zeilstraat 23 / II
      1075 SB Amsterdam
      the Netherlands

      o "plus another few hundred when it hits the BSI list!" Ezra
      o Old playlists archived at <http://www.wfmu.org/~bart/>
      o Recent selected Playlists [early stages] at
      o Special playlists can be found at 3am Magazine
      <http://www.3ammagazine.com> under the title "Radiophotogram: Visual
      Radio". Also posted is a depth-of-focus interview with Judy Nylon. To
      appear soon: excerpts from my scandal-delicious paris novel, PARIS
      SEX TETE, a review of the spoken word works of Roberto Valenza...


      CONTACT ninplant@... FOR REMOVAL

      [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
    Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.