Andre Williams
Silky (In the Red)
by Jon Sarre
Goddamn! This motherfucker’s a world beater, certified Guinness record mopthefloora, oughtta go quadruple platinum, hell, uranium, nobelium, too! Everyone I play this record for (and it’s been anyone I can talk into sitting still for five minutes) has the same jaw drop reaction, cuz this is the shit! Period!
Andre Williams, indie rockers, is a Detroit-based R&B/blues/rock’n’roll pioneer from way back. He’s produced records for Bobby “Blue” Bland and Ike and Tina Turner. He wrote “Shake a Tailfeather,” recorded for Chess and worked for Motown. The guy’s done damn near everything in his 40+ years in the biz, so he musta figured that other than recording an album with Mick Collins (The Gories, Blacktop) for In the Red, the only other thing left for him to do would be to appear on that huntin’ show on TNN.
I dunno about that shooting stuff, but doin’ this Silky record was a damn good idea and Collins and fellow ex-Gorie Dan Kroha (now of the Demolition Doll Rods) were the right guys for the job. They play the blues (“Bonin'”), aggro R&B (“I Wanna Be Your Favorite Pair of Pajamas”), country (“Country and Western Song”) and even imitate Ron Asheton’s noise solo at the end of the Stooges’ “1969” (“Only Black Man in South Dakota”). At times they even out primalize their late and lamented previous band (all over the place). Collins, as a producer, is no Babyface, or whoever they hire to do that smooth R&B these days, but he always manages to find the right blend of rhythm and insanity to frame Williams’ quasi-nutso Rufus Thomasesque vocals (including a used auto-parts and beer bottle percussion section on “Bring Me Back My Car Unstripped”).
Williams, despite the ace backing, doesn’t really require a whole lotta help. He’s a sick’n’twisted desperate rock’n’roll machine, out mackin’ smooth talkin’ rappers not even half his age. He runs through sexy soul insta-classics like “Let Me Put It In” (where he just wants to “put it in – a bid for your love,” sure) and he rips out thunderous odes to pot, fuckin’, and poor vaginal hygiene like, what else, “Pussy Stank.” Then, before ya know it, he’s pourin’ gasoline on the dog who cuckolded him (I think I heard that right, the song’s called “Everybody Knew”).
Sure feminists and animal lovers may not find some of Williams’ observations particularly endearing or humorous, but ya can’t please everyone and he probably doesn’t give a shit about those killjoys to begin with. He’s made a masterfuckinpiece here: it’s raw, raucous, hilarious, and punker than you’ll ever be. Stop bein’ such a fuckin’ jerk and get out of that chair and wrap your greasy paws ’round a copy of Silky! Then you’ll understand!
(PO Box 50777Los Angeles, CA 90050)
