Jon Spencer Blues Explosion
Acme (Capitol)
by Jon Sarre
Will this be the big sellout/breakthrough for the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion? To run the risk of soundin’ cynical, probably… Sure, I thought ’96’s Now I Got Worry was gonna propel punkrockdom’s most photogenic art dropout into People magazine’s “Star Tracks” feature, but then Lollapalooza got canceled and the public voted with their apathy, so here’s Spencer and company back again to give it the old Brown University try. Only problem is, Jon doesn’t quite seem to know what everyone out there in TV land wants to hear, so, like a good host, he makes Acme into a big-budget mix tape, or, as the Matador press flacks describe it, “a party record.” The thing with the Blues Explosion’s party is ya get the impression that they’re too worried about how the dip came out or whether the bathroom curtains clash with the towels to have a good time and it’s drivin’ them NUTS! Is there a shrink in the house?
Spencer hops on the couch and puts his feet up right from the get-go with “Calvin,” a take-no-prisoners/chances thunder-funk groove interspersed with James Brown grunts, War-like harmonizin’, bits of what sounds like Rufus Thomas ramblin’ in his sleep, and some square-Jon announcin’ “This is Blues Power” (which I initially thought was sampled from Albert King’s “Blues Power” from his Live Wire/Blues Power record, since someone does say that line, but then I double-checked and it’s not). It all sounds good, natch, but it really only manages to be so fucking ordinary, so ho-hum, that it’s no wonder I find myself regrettin’ all those nasty things I just finished typin’ about Royal Trux. The second track, “Magical Colors,” where Spencer doubles back and plagiarizes himself (sounds like Now I Got Worry‘s “Rocketship,” only much longer, or maybe it just seems that way), just solidifies that feeling.
Spencer launches into a full-fledged identity crisis on “Do You Wanna Get Heavy?” where he imitates Barry White readin’ off the litany of Stax cool, “Isaac, Rufus,” with what sounds like the real Barry off in the next room whisperin’ sweet nothin’s in Christina Martinez’ ears, perhaps takin’ advantage of Jon bein’ so distracted with organizin’ his record collection. Then a buncha people start chantin’ the title and Jon yowls like he’s Michael Jackson and he just hit his thumb with a hammer. Ouch! Spencer decides enough is enough, and on the next track, “High Gear,” he packs up his truck, cuz mebbe it suddenly occurred to him that he used to be in the Gibson Brothers and they did a song called “Punk Rock Truck Drivin’ Son of a Gun.” That song actually had legs, as they say, and wasn’t just an inventory of what you took with you on your summer vacation.
Jon doesn’t get around to goin’ anywhere, however, cuz a reporter from Sassy drops by and asks him to “Talk About the Blues.” Cypress Hill-style needlepoint guitar riffs poke holes in the speakers (which must be what makes the bass sound all fuzzy) and Jon says “That’s right!” and “I feel good!” and “Rock’n’roll!” a buncha times and muses on a philosophical disagreement he once had with Mississippi Fred McDowell. Well, all that said, Spencer goes off into “I Wanna Make It All Right” which must be his epic apology to someone, but isn’t really, cuz either he doesn’t mean it or his notebook with the lyrics was already packed.
By track seven, “Lovin’ Machine,” Jon’s lost all interest and turned the whole shebang over to his producers (Albini, Alec Empire, Calvin Johnson, et al). They lock him in the isolation booth and force him to do vocal takes over piano and sample-heavy backin’ music. On “Bernie,” Christina (or someone else) yells “Greasy” (the title of Andre Williams’ last Norton release) or maybe “Gracie” (the name of George Burns’ wife) over and over and some people argue like in old Pussy Galore songs.
Everybody musta liked Jon’s Barry White impression a whole lot, cuz he gets to do it again on “Torture,” this time accompanied by some adult contemporary “blues” licks, sheeet! That musta been the straw that broke the Blues Explosions’ back cuz Judah Bauer and Russell Simins burst into “Desperate” like the rescue scene from Repo Man with a buncha chingin’ straight to yer veins riffage, harp wail, and drum concussion that sounds like it was recorded down the block from the rest of the record. The finale, “Attack,” is likewise, full-on penance Orange-era “Blues Explosion!!!” rantage and Simins bangin’ on everything in the room (including, I hope, Alec Empire’s decapitated head) like Keith Moon in the last seconds of the Who’s “Love Reign O’er Me.” The thing is, it’s too little, too late, too bad.
(625 Broadway #1004 New York, NY 10012)
