Essential Pebbles

#2 (AIP/Bomp!)
by Chris Adams

Every time one of these collections floats into the office, I bound with unbounded (if that’s possible) joy and momentarily consider halting my planned slow murder of the editor via arsenic and dangling participles. Cast your minds back to those fabulous, freaked-out, fuzzy ’60s and dig these songs that were hits before your mother was born. Except, now that I think about it, your mother was born by then, and these songs weren’t hits. This is the sound of the great unsung and unlistened-to (and in some cases, unlistenable) suburban rock and roll revolution, the edge of the last concentric circle when the Beatles, The Byrds, Dylan, and the Rolling Stones dropped their rock into the cosmic sea of possibilities, if you can wrap your little mind around that kinda trip, man. Baby, what I’m here ta tell ya ’bout is teenage troglodytes in the garage, laying down some glorious grooves while their parents had split for the weekend, ya dig? I’m talkin’ some mean-ass, low-down, two-chord, psychopunk stomp, technically inept as all hell, but with enough guts, boredom, bravado, and sheer desperation to make it work. This music was fueled by acne and routine dental visits, and watching Mary Anne Smith, the unapproachable girl next door, peel off her party dress in the window. And kiddykats, slap on your paisley shades and dig some of these band names: The Jelly Bean Bandits, Evil Enc Group, Wig Wags, Kama Del Sutra, Sweet Acids, Fading Tribesmen, Spires of Oxford, Ye Court Jesters, Inner Prism… I could go on and on, sisters and brothers. The Planetary Pebbles collection is the same trip, Tijuana-style, with some Mexican muthas rockin’ the joint tequila-style, honeychild. ¿Es fantastico y far-out, no? Love this series of CDs. Love this label. Love yourself in all your primordial, fruggin’, fruit-booted, love-beaded essence. And love that crazy universe, baby. Like wow.
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