Morrissey - the debut solo concert - Wolverhampton 1988 - The Observer

 

Negativland - A Big 10-8 Place - Melody Maker 1991

 

Negative Approach - Tied Down - Melody Maker - March 16 1991

 

plus bonus Laughing Hyenas bashing from this Spin review 1995 paired with Royal Trux

ROYAL TRUX 

Thank You (Virgin)       

LAUGHING HYENAS 

Hard Times (Touch & Go)  

     Where could US underground rock 'go', after Sonic 

Youth's "Daydream Nation" reached the outer-limits of 

'reinvention of the guitar'? Why, back to 'the source', of 

course--black R&B (and the late '60s/early 70s white 

appropriations thereof), in a quest to relearn the lost 

fundamentals of 'groove' and 'feel'. 

Hence the backwards journey taken by a new breed of blues fundamentalists like 

The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, Come and Mule (formed, 

coincidentally, by two refugees from Laughing Hyenas). I can 

only marvel at the timelag syndrome that bedevils Amerindie's 

relationship with black music: unlike British bands, US 

rockers only seem comfortable venerating African-American pop 

when it's dead and buried, e.g. Big Chief vis-a-vis early 

Funkadelic. Doubtless, we'll have to wait twenty years before 

the US underground wakes up to the booty-coercing futurism of 

SWV, Craig Mack and Underground Resistance. 

Just to make sure we know exactly where they're coming 

from, Laughing Hyenas namecheck Howling Wolf and John Lee 

Hooker in interviews, and insert the word 'blues' into not 

one but TWO songs on their new LP--'Hard Time Blues', with 

its risible "I bin down since I could crawl" line, and the 

maudlin, country-inflected "Home of the Blues". The Hyenas 

used to be a noise-core outfit, whose sole distinguishing 

feature was the flamethrower vocals of John Brannon (who used 

to sear ears in the ultra-taut hardcore unit Negative 

Approach). 

Despite their blues affectations, the Hyenas 

purvey what used to be called 'high-octane rock'n'roll', 

firmly rooted in the late '60s sound of their native Detroit; 

Brennon now sounds like Iggy if he'd been fixated on Jagger 

rather than Jim Morrison. 

While the band can't swing for toffee, they do rumble 

effectively. But Brannon's slurred roar ('take me fo' a 

ride', 'reach out yo' han'', ad nauseam) has less to do with 

Robert Johnson than with The Stooges of "I'm Sick Of You" and 

"Not Right".  If heavily-amplified, fuzzed-to-fuck self-pity 

is your particular cup of poison, drink deep. Me, I'll take 

my blooze bastardisation from those who take Ozzy rather than 

Muddy as blues-print, i.e. Alice In Chains (who could really 

make something of Hyena titles like 'Slump' and 'Each Dawn I 

Die'). 

    

Like Jon Spencer Blues Explosion (that other offshoot of 

garage-skronk pioneers Pussy Galore), Royal Trux have at 

least earned the right to go atavistic. Having proved they 

can push the envelope (with the drug-damaged lo-fi chaos 

theorems of "Twin Infinitives" and the "Exile on Main Street" 

filtered through "Daydream Nation" of "Cats and Dogs"), it's 

only fair that Neil Hagerty and Jennifer Herrema should be 

allowed to contract their raunch'n'roll to fit the contours of 

Black Crowes-style retro. On their major label debut Thank 

You, Trux retain the supple boogie glide of "Thorn In My 

Pride", the baleful thrust of "Remedy", but purge the hokey 

Humble Pie over-emoting that makes Crowes stick in craw. 

Thank You is Sticky-Fingered to the max, its sinewy riffs, 

grinding bass and seething percussion harking back to 'Can't 

You Hear Me Knockin'?". 

What sets Trux leagues above and 

beyond Laughing Hyenas is that they funk, in that fierce 

white-boy fashion that early '70s rock had down pat, but 

which punk extinguished when it replaced syncopation with 

thud-thud-thud-thud. 

Song-wise, Royal Trux don't really write tunes so much 

as riffs; Hagerty & Herrema's elegantly wasted unison drawl 

functions as a vocal equivalent to rhythm guitar, just 

another twist'n'tug factor in the all-important groove. 

Herrema's haggard croon (you can practically hear the nodes 

forming on her distressed larynx) is at its vicious best on 

"You're Gonna Lose"--offset by Hagerty's gloating backing 

chorus, she expectorates the venomous put-downs, and proves 

herself one of the best 'bad' singers since Alice Cooper 

circa 'Elected'. 

Overall, though, what with lyrics that are 

as incomprehensibly Philip K. Dick-like as ever, Thank You 

isn't about songs and singing, but grooves and guitar. The 

album was produced by David Briggs (who worked on many of 

Neil Young's '70s albums), and appropriately Hagerty's short 

solo on "Map Of The City" has a jalapeno-sting redolent of 

'Southern Man'. Generally, Hagerty avoids the gaseous, 

mirage-like soloing that made 'Cats and Dogs' such a 

gloriously narcotic haze, and concentrates on a rhythm/lead 

hybrid that's tres tres Keef. 

 Best comes last with the aformentioned 'You're Gonna 

Lose' and the snakehipped, sultry 'Shadow of the Wasp'. The 

highest praise you can offer Thank You is that it's like 

time travel. While this ultimately underlines the inadequacy 

of the Amerindie state-of-art (basically antiquarianism, or 

at best, lo-fi's retro-eclecticism), it also indicates that 

Royal Trux have made a muthafunkin' fine record.