EMAIL JOEL at gaustenbooks@gmail.com
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Sunday, February 11, 2024
Interview with HUGO BURNHAM of GANG OF FOUR
Sunday, September 25, 2022
"I'm Not Trying to Be Smug Here:" Words for Anton Fier
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| Photo by Rick McGinnis |
In many ways, Anton Fier – who passed away last week at the age of 66 – died years ago.
Long before social media gave the world a platform for self-aggrandizing, Anton packed up his music box and split for parts unknown without a single word announcing his intentions. The year was 1996, and he had just released Dead Inside – one of the darkest albums ever committed to disk – with his long-running project, The Golden Palominos. Largely created in collaboration with spoken word artist Nicole Blackman (perhaps best known for her bullet-between-the-eyes work with KMFDM), Dead Inside was bleak, distressing and fearless. (Kidnapping, murder and infanticide were among its primary themes.) Even in a post-Cobain musical landscape accustomed to depression set to sound, Dead Inside was too much for too many. (Cheekily, I once put it on for a ladyfriend who had basically been my high school’s answer to Sylvia Plath. She politely asked that I turn it off after the first song.) Naturally, I absolutely adored the thing – despite the fact that I’ve only been able to sit through it thrice in the last 26 years.
As career suicides go, Dead Inside is a masterstroke. From 1980 to 1996, Anton had been everywhere as one of Alternative music’s most expressive and versatile drummers. His extraordinary talents made their first major appearance on The Feelies’ amazing 1980 debut, Crazy Rhythms. Over the ensuing decade and a half, his personal discography blossomed to include standout work with Pere Ubu, The Lounge Lizards, SWANS and Bob Mould, among others. Under his own steam, he led The Golden Palominos – a revolving who’s who of underground music elites – through a series of captivating albums (with 1983’s eponymous debut, 1985’s Visions Of Excess and 1994’s Pure being my personal favorites). Critics and adventurous music fans couldn’t get enough of the guy – but then Dead Inside shook the Cult of Fier into a stunned silence. Years went by without a peep from him.
Where did Anton Fier go? And why? Why was Dead Inside presumably his final word? In early 2005, I decided to find out.
Driving down Sunset Blvd. one day, I came up with the idea to write a book called Albums that (Should’ve) Changed the World – a more grandiose title than, say, Albums that Really Deserve a Second Listen. Within seconds of coming up with the title, I decided that Dead Inside would be one of the releases I’d write about. At the time, I viewed Myspace – still primitive in those days – as a passing fad not worthy of much attention. So, I started my journey the old-fashioned journalist’s way – by connecting the dots through phonebooks, legwork and organic networking. I was soon in touch with various Palominos and Pere Ubu types, hoping to gain a glimpse into Anton’s working process and personality. Before long, a common thread surfaced: Many spoke highly of their working relationship with Anton, but they cautioned that my attempts to get to the heart of the matter directly with the man himself – who could be quite a cagey fellow at times, it seemed – would very likely lead to a brick wall. Additionally, it appeared that nobody had heard from him in years. These were tantalizing circumstances for a journalist, and finding Fier became a fixation for me.
I tracked down and hit up more past Palominos. None of them seemed to know where Anton’s feet had landed. I left a few messages at the NYC bar Tonic (RIP) after a SWAN tipped me off that Anton was last seen working there. Nothing. Shortly after my Eddie And The Cruisers-style search for the man hit its ninth month, I finally came across a presumably old email address for him in the liner notes to Tzadik's reissue of his solo album Dreamspeed after unexpectedly finding it at Amoeba Hollywood one day. I sent him an email but didn’t expect much. Amazingly, he wrote back two days later. Here’s an excerpt:
“While I appreciate what you're trying to do, I'm just not sure that talking about the music or the past holds much interest for me. I'm not trying to be smug here, but outside of technical details, I'm not sure what information I can offer you that would be relevant – relevant in the sense that it sheds light on the work. The work is the work, created by the people who created it, and it speaks for itself.”
The journalist in me hated reading those words, but the creator/musician in me understood and respected the hell out of them. During a conversation I had with him a few years back, the late Andy Gill of Gang of Four cautioned that artists could too easily end up being “guilty of trying to be [their] own reviewers and trying to really spell out what [they] think [the work] is supposed to say,” adding that such practices “can take away some of the magic in things by over-talking them.” Creators are in the business of creating; in a perfect world, that would be enough. Unfortunately, publicity and promotion don’t work that way, and this often leads to otherwise solitary people being bugged by, well, people like me. Having existed on both sides of the fence over the years, I tend to favor Anton’s go-away-kid-you-bother-me approach to public relations over the time I need to take away from DOING things to discuss things I’ve already DONE. A necessary evil is still evil, and I found Anton’s reluctance to give away too much a breath of fresh air. And in a modern world where photos of lunches provide midday entertainment for millions, Anton accomplished the great feat of a public death without actually dying. Brilliant and admirable.
Now Anton IS dead, and we’re left with his work to tell the tale. Thankfully, that tale is an extraordinary one. As a young drummer growing up in New Jersey (The Feelies’ headquarters), I learned a lot about finesse by listening to Crazy Rhythms – especially via the gradual tom buildup of “Loveless Love” and the tasteful-yet-powerful timekeeping genius of “Moscow Nights.” I’ll also state without reservation that White Light From The Mouth Of Infinity – largely viewed as SWANS’ return to form following the commercially driven misstep of 1989’s The Burning World – would not have been the album it was without Anton’s presence. And then there’s Pere Ubu’s Song Of The Bailing Man. And Bob Mould’s Black Sheets Of Rain. As far as I’m concerned, these are ANTON’s records. He was not a sideman; he was the engine.
On a personal note, Anton’s death is another nagging reminder that my Albums book – long delayed by nearly two decades’ worth of marriage, parenthood, divorce, car accidents, world travel and actual paid work – is still unfinished. I’d like to think that if Anton had lived long enough to read the final product, he would have enjoyed my investigation and interpretation of Dead Inside.
Although Anton briefly resurfaced about a decade ago with another Golden Palominos record (this time a collaboration with Drivin N Cryin’s Kevn Kinney) and a couple of surprise live shows, he largely maintained his elusiveness until the very end. No official cause of death has been announced, and I’d be surprised if one ever comes to light. (There are online rumors, of course. I will neither share nor validate the more prevalent ones here except to say that I hope Anton left this world feeling a sense of personal dignity.) At the end of the day, Anton did his job by leaving us plenty of great music to mull over – and then staying out of the way of his own creations.
“The magic in things,” as Andy Gill would say, remains intact.
You were right, Anton. Your work does speak for itself. And it will always say – and mean – a hell of a lot.
EMAIL JOEL at gaustenbooks@gmail.com
Saturday, June 4, 2022
REVIEW - The Ancients: Leveler
Although former New Jersey/current Nashville-based singer Fred Schreck is not a household name, he has been the voice of some of the most exciting American Alternative music of the past three-plus decades.
Way back in 1991, Schreck made a name for himself in New York City’s then-thriving underground music scene via the eponymous debut album by his band, The Ancients. Regulars at CBGB and the Luna Lounge and championed by none other than Joey Ramone, The Ancients seemed destined for greatness. Unfortunately, the band never gained widespread attention outside of its local scene and imploded before achieving mainstream success. Schreck soon re-emerged as the singer for Crush, a short-lived supergroup circa 1993 with former members of Killing Joke and Siouxsie and the Banshees that released a stellar self-titled major label album before suffering a similar fate. Schreck’s inability to break through the second time around said more about the fickle nature of the music business than it did about the man’s gifts at the mic. In a marketplace consumed by Grunge at the time, Schreck’s soulful, Goth-tinged voice was too easily overlooked.
Shortly after the Crush era, Schreck worked on a second Ancient album with longtime collaborator Morgan Visconti and a host of guests (including Killing Joke/Crush drummer Big Paul Ferguson) before the sessions were put on the shelf for nearly 20 years while Schreck relocated to Nashville and pursued an Alternative Country route with a group called The Billygoats. (Schreck’s return to more Rock-oriented sounds roughly a decade ago as a member of the fantastic Satellite Paradiso is also of note.) This long-lost Ancients album, finally released in 2015 as Mind, was easily one of the best records of that year and served as a reminder of Schreck’s strengths as a songwriter and singer.
Here’s a snippet of what I wrote about Mind at the time:
It would be a shame if the Schreck/Visconti partnership doesn't take advantage of Mind's arrival to create new sounds in the future. The world needs more music as perfect as this.
Thankfully, we finally have it. Released on May 13, The Ancients’ Leveler finds Schreck writing, arranging, producing and performing virtually every note. Initially conceived by Schreck as a solo project during lockdown, the album became the third official Ancients album upon Visconti’s return to co-write and perform various sonic duties on the track “Nihilist.” With help from Nashville-based engineer Joe Costa (Ben Folds/Amanda Palmer) and occasional contributions from drummers Frank Coleman (Satellite Paradiso/Bentmen/Secret Agent) and David “Pup” Roberts and guitarist Rich Pilger (perhaps best known among New Jersey music scene aficionados as a member of ’80s glam rockers Monroe), Schreck has created a solid new chapter in The Ancients’ discography and perhaps the most musically varied album in the group’s history.
Here are a few of the release’s many highlights:
The album charges out of the gate with a title track (co-written by Schreck’s old friend and pre-Ancients bandmate David Landolin) that showcases the singer’s exquisite guitar playing - a stunning blend of Schreck’s Satellite Paradiso bandmate John Ashton (The Psychedelic Furs) and the late Andy Gill of Gang of Four. This album opener is followed by the beautifully somber “Blue Seventeen,” a perfect 3am driving song that inspires thoughts of what it would be like if Robert Gordon sang in a David Lynch film. The lush, elegant and multi-layered “Tanto” falls somewhere between the best moments of Peter Murphy’s solo work and Country Life-era Roxy Music, while the brooding “Nihilist” is the track on Leveler that most reminds this writer of The Ancients’ classic ’91 debut. (A reissue of that first album is said to be in the works. I can’t think of a collection of songs more deserving of new life.)
Leveler’s greatest moment, the extraordinary “Blow,” harkens back to the vibe of New York City’s glory years. You can practically smell clove cigarettes and feel the sweat of a packed crowd within the old Limelight’s former church walls as the song – fueled by Schreck’s soaring vocals in the chorus and some truly outstanding drumming by Coleman – plays on. Album closer “The Eastern Sky” (co-written by Pilger, another one of Schreck’s old Jersey pals and pre-Ancients bandmates, who also makes a guest appearance on guitar) brings the proceedings to a rousing conclusion thanks in large part to impressive, effects-laden lead fretwork.
In a 1993 Swedish television interview, Andrew Eldridge of The Sisters of Mercy said the following when discussing why his band hadn’t reached the same level of sales as Roxette and other more successful bands of the era:
“We might not mean as much to as many people, but we mean more to the people that we reach […] Ultimately, if I have to choose between reaching more people or reaching a few people deeper, I would choose to reach a few people deeper every time.”
For my money, there’s no better series of words to also sum up The Ancients’ sporadic existence over the last 30 or so years. The previous two albums released under that moniker didn’t get anywhere near the attention and acclaim they deserved, but those listeners who know Schreck’s work have experienced an artist (italicized for a reason, folks) whose output never fails to intrigue and excite. Leveler is an incredible addition to the Ancients canon and easily one of the strongest albums of 2022. If you’re new to what Schreck has to offer, this is an excellent place to start.
Leveler is available on all streaming platforms.
More on Fred Schreck/The Ancients on This Site:
EMAIL JOEL at gaustenbooks@gmail.com
Saturday, March 12, 2022
"Our Future Was in the Past:" Does the Andy Gill-Less Gang of Four Measure Up?
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| Gang of Four, 2022. (Photo by Jason Grow) |
“Nostalgia, it's no good.
Our future was in the past.”
- Gang of Four, “It Is Not Enough” (1982)
With the bands that comprised the original Punk/Post-Punk era now firmly entrenched in middle age (or beyond), those acts still pushing to make a go of it in the present tense often trade on – and succumb to – the public’s notion that “original” automatically means “authentic.” There are scores of bands out there attempting to add a few more years to their careers by blowing the dust off their back catalogs and hitting clubs and festivals without a single new note to be heard. Sure, such activities tug at nostalgic heartstrings and help keep the bills paid, but it’s more than a bit disheartening to witness once creative and forward-thinking entities rely so heavily on past glories to keep the train rolling.
Late Gang of Four guitarist/co-founder Andy Gill was keenly aware of this fact. When original singer Jon King jumped ship following 2011’s Content, Gill kept the band – already beleaguered by decades’ worth of breakups, reunions and personnel disruptions – going for several more years as its sole original member. While his output during this era wasn’t always perfect, his steely resolve to keep Gang of Four alive and churching out new sounds for nearly a decade past the group's reasonably expected expiration date was admirable. (It also yielded downright extraordinary results at times; check out “The Dying Rays” – one of Gill’s greatest songwriting victories – off 2015’s What Happens Next.)
Of course, the marketplace is rarely kind to a veteran act – especially one comprised almost entirely of unfamiliar faces – that is determined to make new music. When Gill’s incarnation of Gang of Four played Boston in 2016, they served as second fiddle on a “co-headlining” bill with The Faint – and didn’t even appear on the marquee outside the venue. The harsh reality that late-period Gang of Four never truly captured the public’s imagination was made even sadder when considering that the band absolutely fucking smoked that night. It was only upon Gill’s death in February 2020 that the masses truly embraced the fact that he had remained a thriving creative force right until the very end. Stripping away the original band's long-running internal squabbles (which, in truth, are nobody’s damn business except theirs anyway) and taking sonic integrity alone into account, there’s no question that Gill earned his place as the keeper of the Gang of Four ethos during the years he ran the show.
This brings us to 2022 and the band called Gang of Four that is currently on tour and played last Sunday at the Crystal Ballroom in Somerville, MA. King is back at the mic, and the drum stool is again occupied by original timekeeper Hugo Burnham. Veteran bassist Sara Lee, who played on 1982’s Songs Of The Free (my all-time favorite Gang of Four record, for what that’s worth) and 1983’s Hard, is back as well. David Pajo, best known for his time with late ’80s/early ’90s cult heroes Slint, is on guitar. That is quite an impressive assemblage of musicians, but does it measure up to the Gang of Four legacy?
Well, yes and no.
First of all, without Gill, nothing presented under the name “Gang of Four” would ever feel complete. But since the band has no choice in that matter, what any of us could ever hope for is something that preserves the man’s spirit and contributions. That’s exactly what the sold-out crowd in Somerville got from Pajo, who stepped into Gill’s formidable shoes and delivered the second-best option any Gang of Four fan could experience. An incredibly innovative player in his own right (check out his Bandcamp for a slew of treasures), Pajo brought honor and respectability to his role, perfectly reproducing Gill’s sonic presence while incorporating enough of his own stylings to add something fresh to the proceedings. (I’d like to think that Gill – never one to stay in one creative space for too long – would have viewed the injection of Pajo’s musical ingenuity into the Gang of Four sound with an approving nod.) Additional kudos to the guy for not aping Gill’s signature stage moves – a wince-inducing trait that is far too common among replacement performers. (I’m looking at you, Paul Rodgers.)
Here’s a sentence that I would never type lightly: David Pajo is the guitarist for Gang of Four.
Fucking stellar.
While fully acknowledging the logistical constraints the band surely faced in light of a pandemic and the general demands of prepping for a tour (including figuring out the merch; more on that later), I must say that the lack of any new material in the band’s set was a letdown. Sure, the band’s recent 77-81 box set has duly earned a Grammy nomination and everybody loves the old stuff, but this band deserves better than to exist as a mere nostalgia act – especially with a powerhouse like Pajo in tow. Gill would have undoubtedly given us something fresh to digest had he been able to bring Gang of Four to the stage in the here and now, and his unwavering devotion to such progress is sorely missed. Say what you will about the group’s songs post-King, but they at least existed.
This current band will never truly be Gang of Four until it has something new to offer.
That said, the Somerville gig was magnificent. Forty-five years after the band’s formation, Gang of Four delivered a performance that shook off the shackles of tragic loss and internal fractures and celebrated the true magic of its classic material. The sixtysomething King was in brilliant form, practically sweating out his full body weight while thrusting himself around the stage as the team of Burnham and Lee expertly anchored his menace. In addition to playing the requisite material off 1979’s Entertainment! and 1981’s Solid Gold, the band showcased a few tunes off Songs Of The Free (including a pristine rendition of “Call Me Up”), brought out “Capital (It Fails Us Now)” off 1982’s Another Day/Another Dollar during the encore and even gave a nod to their ‘90s discography via the inclusion of “I Parade Myself” off 1995’s underrated Shrinkwrapped. Best of all, the band members clearly enjoyed themselves. (Smiles? On stage at a Gang of Four show??!! Why the hell not???!!!)
The coolest highlight? The proud look on Burnham’s face as his daughter, Ts, sang backing vocals at various points throughout the set in a “Black Lives Matter”- emblazoned outfit.
I’ve written about Gang of Four more than any other band in my career; this music means the world to me. As an eternal member of Team Andy, I offer these words directly to the current band:
Thank you so very much for doing this tour. It’s so lovely to experience these songs again in a live setting when I thought that possibility had been lost forever. This music matters so much. You’ve made the absolute right choice with Pajo. Please keep this going and write some new shit! My best wishes to you all. And as always, my deepest fondness and respect for your fallen musical partner.
Bonus Fun Fact: A few months back, I suggested to Hugo that Gang of Four should sell band-branded condoms "for our top left pockets." (Some of you will get that reference, surely). Well, not only did they use my idea, but Hugo hooked me up before the gig. I told him the band needs to hire me full time for the next tour!
EMAIL JOEL at gaustenbooks@gmail.com
Monday, July 12, 2021
"Leisure" Lives On: Inside the Global Celebration of Andy Gill
As regular readers of this website know, the past 18 months or so have seen a slew of releases honoring the many innovations and talents of late Gang of Four guitarist/producer Andy Gill, who passed away in February 2020 at the age of 64. Now, after years of preparation (including considerable work done by Gill himself prior to his death), fans, admirers and fellow musicians are finally able to experience The Problem of Leisure: A Celebration of Andy Gill and Gang of Four.
Released last month, The Problem of Leisure collects 20 artists from around the globe (some legendary, some new to most listeners) who offer their unique spins on hand-picked Gang of Four compositions. Considering Gill’s widespread influence on the world of music, it’s no surprise that the end results are eclectic and intriguing. From the faithful (Helmet’s “In A Ditch;” Hotei’s “To Hell With Poverty”) and ferocious (IDLES’ “Damaged Goods,” Tom Morello & Serj Tankian’s “Natural’s Not In It”) to the wildly inventive (Warpaint’s “Paralyzed;” Flea and John Frusciante’s “Not Great Men,” complete with vocals by the Silverlake Conservatory Youth Chorale) and idiosyncratic (Youth of Killing Joke’s dancey Dub reinvention of “Forever Starts Now,” Sekar Melati’s live gamelan version of “Not Great Men”), the album serves a suitable celebration of a man who spent his life stretching sound beyond convention.
The Problem of Leisure was initially conceived as a multi-act tribute release commemorating the 40th anniversary of Gang of Four’s legendary 1979 debut album, Entertainment! However, Gill’s widow, Catherine Mayer, explains that those plans – and the project’s initial timetable – soon changed.
“It always would have been a bit of a tight schedule. This sort of album, where you have multiple artists involved, is going to take a long time. Some of them will turn around and deliver a track right away, and others will say that they’re going to and then they’ll disappear. Also, Andy was always deeply involved in every aspect of what the band was doing and busy in all sorts of other respects. At various times, he sort of co-managed the band, but he was also always writing new stuff. He also had a funny relationship with time; he always hoped things would be quicker than they were. I don’t know that he would have ever necessarily hit the deadline for it being launched on the 40th anniversary of Entertainment! But even before he was tested in that way, it changed course because he started approaching musicians he really admired and who he thought might do something interesting. Several of them came back and were really enthusiastic, but they wanted to do tracks that weren’t on Entertainment! So, it had already moved away from being just Entertainment! Once that happened, he then started being more interested in what the creative process was. He was really very, very excited by that. He was getting feedback from all these musicians he really cared about who were talking to him about the songs themselves and what could be done with them.”
With the artists afforded a free hand in selecting their tracks, it soon became clear that the album would end up featuring more than one cover of a particular number – something that wasn’t an issue for Gill.
“He was actually curious to see what different people would do with the same track. It didn’t matter to him which album people chose things from; he just wanted to see what they’d come up with. He got very far down that track at the point where he became ill.”
Gill continued to work on the album (as well as Gang of Four material that would later comprise the posthumous EPs This Heaven Gives Me Migraine and Anti Hero) from his hospital bed.
“I was not involved in the project in any formal way at all, but when Andy was in hospital, I was actually helping him with his computers and communications. But really, this was totally his project. He was excited about it literally until the moment he couldn’t be excited about anything. So, that’s why when he died, there was no question in my mind that it needed to be finished. In the hospital, I had made – at his request – a list of people he still felt he wanted to get involved with the project. There was also a rudimentary track list, which I followed to a very large extent.”
Very much to its credit, The Problem Of Leisure doesn’t pretend that Gang of Four’s relevance ceased once the original lineup splintered following 1981’s Solid Gold. Instead, the collection provides a fairly far-reaching representation of the band’s work, even touching on later tracks ( “Broken Talk” [reimagined in Mandarin by Hardcore Raver in Tears as “Last Mile”], “Where The Nightingale Sings” and “Forever Starts Now”) released during the time Gill stood as Gang of Four’s sole remaining original member. This part of the album’s focus was due in part to Massive Attack’s Robert Del Naja (appearing on the album under his remix name, 3D, alongside British duo Nova Twins), who suggested having a go at the 2015 track “Where The Nightingale Sings.”
“Robert was one of the first people to come back and say, ‘I actually want to do something much later.’ ‘Nightingale’ was already in before Andy died. In fact, it was being mixed while he was in hospital.”
The final track received for the album – former Gang of Four/David Bowie bassist Gail Ann Dorsey’s fantastic rendition of 1982’s “We Live As We Dream, Alone” – holds a special place in Mayer’s heart.
“That just felt like a commentary on what we were all going through. It also meant so much, because Gail and Andy really loved each other. She had been in the band, but they had also been friends for so many years. I’m so happy she was able to deliver that. I’m sad that he didn’t hear it.”
Fortunately, Gill was alive long enough to be blown away by several of the recordings.
“He took so much pleasure in the bits of this album he heard. He really did love the IDLES track; he loved the Gary Numan cover [“Love Like Anthrax,” with Ade Fenton], and he loved The Dandy Warhols [“What We All Want”] and talked about Everything Everything [“Natural’s Not In it,” produced by Gill]. The Flea and John Frusciante track came in when Andy was still not only able to hear it but able to both laugh himself silly and say, ‘This is absolutely brilliant!’ There was so much on that album that excited him.”
Artwork for The Problem of Leisure (which is available in a plethora of formats and editions) comes courtesy of Damien Hirst.
“It was a bit of a mutual appreciation society,” Mayer says of her late husband’s relationship with the British artist. “They both really liked what the other one did and saw echoes of what they were trying to do in each other’s work as well. Andy and I had gone to the huge exhibition that Damien did in Venice, ‘Treasures from the Wreck of the Unbelievable.’ We had been to a lot of his stuff, but that had been while this project was gestating. Andy had seen the artwork by Damien and loved the kind of playfulness in it – the way in which it sort of plays with your expectations and the sort of deceptive, often childlike simplicity of the imagery. If you think about the artwork, which Andy did himself, for [Gang of Four’s 2019 album] Happy Now, there’s an awful lot of the same impulse in there – something that is a bit joyous and silly but also, in that case, a bit dark. You can take those images and make something that’s multilayered out of it.
“Damien sent all these different possibilities,” she adds. “There was a whole different set of imagery, but Andy instantly went for the dog. He just loved it.”
The cover’s googly-eyed charm reflects a side to Gill that few detected amidst a body of work full of political observations and melancholic introspection. On stage, the man was all business – very often well dressed and regularly delivering the penetrating, steely-eyed glare of a disapproving headmaster. However, as this writer experienced firsthand in 2016, backstage was a decidedly different affair. Once the seriousness of the Gang of Four experience was stripped away for the evening, Gill was jovial and extremely good company – something Mayer knows better than anyone.
“His stage persona was so austere, [but] he was such a bloody nice person. He was lovely, and he was very, very funny. I don’t think that those sides come across in the public persona. That was, for me, the thing I wanted to get across. I’ve posted some pictures [on social media] that he’d probably kill me for posting! (laughs) Instead of it being all cheekbones and scowls, it’s him doing very silly stuff. I just wanted people to be able to see that.”
Above all, The Problem of Leisure showcases the legacy of a deeply creative force who never stopped working. While most musicians are a notoriously lazy lot, Gill was very much a moving target – always on his way to conceptualizing and achieving the next thing. Considering she spent years alongside a man of such drive, what does Mayer credit as the engine for a work ethic that enabled her partner to maintain his focus even as his sun began to fade?
“I don’t think he had a choice. It’s funny; I’m a writer, and sometimes I actually feel there’s something wrong with me if I’m not writing. He was like that, but even more so. Back in the pre-digital era, he was forever tormented by getting whole songs coming into his head that he wanted to find a way of recording or writing down. He wouldn’t know how to do it. They would come at inopportune moments – when we were in the middle of dinner or on a walk in the middle of nowhere. He would ring our old-style answer phone that had a cassette tape in it. He would sing things or do rhythms down the phone or whatever into those tapes.”
Not surprisingly, Gill’s mind worked overtime while traveling as well.
“[With] the no-frills airlines that we used quite a lot, you really wanted as little luggage as possible. Andy would nevertheless pack an entire keyboard and a computer in his luggage! He was never not writing music.”
Naturally, Gill left behind an extensive – and chaotic – personal archive of his adventures both as a member of Gang of Four and as an in-demand producer for the likes of Michael Hutchence, The Red Hot Chili Peppers and host of others. Mayer is in the process of making sense of it all.
“Sorting through what there is has been astonishing, and I’m nowhere near the end of it. I’ve found music that has never been out there […] I also have funny things. I’ve got not one but two battered microwaves, with the implements used to beat them to death [on the Gang of Four track “He’d Send In The Army”]. I have things that people wore on stage and lot and lots of personal letters. It would take me forever to go through this!”
Although there is a mountain of Gill-related material that has yet to be heard or seen by the world, Mayer cautions that it’s likely that much of it will remain that way.
“I’m kind of exhausted with doing all of this stuff myself. There’s a whole thing that happens with widows being the keeper of the flame. He was and is the love of my life, and I don’t want to cloud that with stuff. I only want to do stuff that’s good for him; he’s not here to represent himself. I would only ever put something out there if I thought it was of value to Andy’s legacy. I don’t know what’s on these tapes I’ve found, but I’m not going to rush half-finished songs out there. That would be a disservice to him.
“There’s a thing about people saying [about the dead], ‘Oh, this is what he’d have wanted,’ and you know that’s not necessarily true,” she continues. “But in my case, there’s a ton of stuff that I know that he would have actually wanted, and it’s not all about him. Gail Ann Dorsey and I have been joking about it – and it’s not entirely joking – but Andy was pushing her and pushing her to do more solo work. I want part of his legacy to be to turn around to Gail and say, ‘Do that bloody solo work!’ He wanted her to do a cover of Blue Öyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear The Reaper.’ She and I have been talking about her finally doing that. John Sterry – JJ Sterry, who was the last singer in the [Gang of Four] lineup – and Andy became very close. Andy so wanted him to have a solo career. So, again, that is to me another part of his legacy.”
When the world heard the devastating news of Gill’s passing, social media feeds and media reports were instantly flooded with tributes and remembrances (including a piece by yours truly). These expressions of appreciation were very much in line with the reverence shown to Gang of Four in recent years – a well-earned (if decades-late) acknowledgement of the genius of a band that unjustly struggled to achieve mainstream success for the majority of its career. This posthumous praise, and the release of The Problem of Leisure and other recent Gang of Four-related projects, begs an important question: Did Gill have a sense of how much people loved him and how meaningful his work was to them?
“No, and that’s one of the things that’s the most difficult for me,” Mayer replies. “He was such a funny person. He knew how good he was; he used to periodically tell me that he was a genius and I was very lucky to be with him! (laughs) And I would agree, obviously. But he also was incredibly modest [...] You have no idea how many of our close friends were utterly shocked by the outpouring about Andy after he died. They really had no idea he was a prominent musician. I’ve worked in very different fields to him, so we have lots of friends who are in politics, other areas of the arts and other areas of life. They didn’t know much about music. They’d go to his gigs and they’d like the music, but they had no idea – and he wouldn’t have thought to tell them. He saved the ‘I’m a genius’ stuff for me!”
Purchase The Problem of Leisure
More on Andy Gill/Gang of Four on This Website
EMAIL JOEL at gaustenbooks@gmail.com
Tuesday, March 9, 2021
REVIEW - Gang of Four: 77-81 (Box Set)
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| Photo courtesy of Matador Records |
“‘Damaged Goods’ will always remind me of being 19 and free. Thank you for that.”
The above words by original Cure drummer Lol Tolhurst, featured in the gorgeous 100-page hardbound book included in the new Gang of Four box set, 77-81 (out this Friday on vinyl via Matador Records with a CD version coming next month), strike a particularly strong chord with me. “Damaged Goods” will always serve as a flashback to my equally free 18-year-old self driving around in a car (my first) full of friends one hot and crazy Saturday night in the summer of 1995 while the song played on the tape deck.
“Damaged Goods” sums up everything that the original Gang of Four was: An energetic and instantly memorable blast of music that prompted the listener to sing along and move even though the deeper meaning behind the lyrics wasn’t immediately apparent. The classic incarnation of Gang of Four made us bop and shake, but it also made us think and feel. This was smart and adventurous music made by smart and adventurous people; in many ways, peers and acolytes (many of whom fill the pages of the 77-81 book with recollections and testimonials) are still trying to catch up to where Gang of Four already was 40-plus years ago. In terms of this fan, Gang of Four hooked me as a teenager and never let go, leading the band to be the most-covered artist in the history of this website. This music matters.
As previously discussed on this site, there is a considerable amount of activity in the world of Gang of Four these days. Sadly, all of these things are unfolding without late guitarist/producer/occasional vocalist Andy Gill, who was the last man standing from the band’s ’77-’81 lineup when he passed away in February 2020 at the age of 64. In addition to the 2020 release of two posthumous EPs featuring music from Gill’s final Gang of Four lineup, the surviving members of the original quartet – drummer Hugo Burnham, singer Jon King and bassist Dave Allen – reconvened to bring this long-awaited collection to fruition.
And My God, is it extraordinary. Let’s dive in…
Entertainment! (1979) has been written about (and reissued) ad nauseum, so I have little to add except 1) It still sounds amazing and years ahead of its time, and 2) I’ve always considered the deep cuts “Guns Before Butter,” “Contract” and “5.45” the most thrilling songs of the lot. While 77-81 succeeds in (again) celebrating a deservedly iconic debut album, perhaps the box set’s greatest strength comes in providing a fresh opportunity for listeners to gain a greater appreciation for 1981’s Solid Gold. Unfortunately, Gang of Four’s second album has spent four decades in Entertainment!’s shadow, unjustly relegated to also-ran status by more than a few fans and music scribes. But when experienced in the context of this box set, it is clear that Solid Gold is everything a sophomore release should be. Bolstered by a much stronger production than its predecessor (goodbye, dead-sounding tom toms!) and substantial progress and innovation in the songwriting department (hello,”If I Could Keep It for Myself”!), Solid Gold is when the music of Gang of Four became bulletproof. Additionally, it stands as the strongest – and, sadly, final – studio-recorded representation of Gang of Four’s finest rhythm section – a special combination of two musicians who were meant to play together. (One listen to ”The Republic” will convince you of this fact.) Allen split after Solid Gold’s release, taking much of the band’s original grit with him. Burnham stuck around for one more album (1982’s softer but no less brilliant Songs of the Free) before King and Gill took the band (by then really just the duo backed by hired guns) in an increasingly Pop-oriented direction before grinding to a halt in 1984.
If you’re reading this, there’s a very good chance you already own the first two albums. (Hell, perhaps you even own several versions of each. Lord knows the re-release marketplace has provided you with plenty of opportunities to do so!) Should you still make the investment in this (quite reasonably priced, all things considered) box set? Without question, and here’s why…
Singles: Seven non-album tracks highlighted by the eternally boisterous “To Hell with Poverty” (perhaps the most glorious Allen/Burnham groove ever recorded), “It’s Her Factory” (featuring Gill behind the kit and Burnham at the mic), a blistering live recording of Solid Gold’s “What We All Want” and the raw singalong charm of the Punk-as-fuck “Armalite Rifle.”
Live at American Indian Center 1980: An official double LP pressing of a long-bootlegged gig originally broadcast over UC Berkeley station KALX. Captured straight off the band’s soundboard, this must-hear collection presents the original band at the peak of its onstage powers, delivering fiery renditions of cuts off Entertainment! and Solid Gold (along with a streamlined cover of The Mekons’ idiosyncratic “Roseanne” that sounds like long-time Gang of Four admirers R.E.M. forming a few thousand miles away). You can practically feel the sweat through the speakers.
The Amazing Book: Lavishly created by Jon King and Dan Calderwood of Quietly, the 77-81 book features complete (and correct) lyrics, visually stunning photographs and dozens of contributions by the usual suspects (Henry Rollins, Flea, Steve Albini, Peter Hook, members of R.E.M.), some surprise cameos (Sofia Coppola, members of 10,000 Maniacs) and a slew of others. (Perhaps the most surreal – and, if you’re a Northeast guy like me, nightmare/anxiety-inducing – moment in the book comes when Burnham shares the tale of the band’s tour van breaking down in the Lincoln Tunnel during Friday rush-hour traffic. The culprit? Sugar in the gas tank – a gift from fellow English band Squeeze.) Packed with content, the book alone makes the box set a worthy purchase.
The Jaw-Dropping Packaging: Designed by King and Bjarke Vind Normann (described in the book as "one of Denmark's pre-eminent industrial and product designers"), the box itself is a sight to behold. Just have a look...
The Demo Cassette*: The vinyl edition of the box set comes with a red cassette of 26 demo tracks recorded from 1977 to 1981 – complete with tentative names for sound sketches (“Asshole,” “Cymbal,” “Reverb,” etc.). Unfortunately (if understandably), Matador did not include the demo tracks in review downloads of this box set, presumedly out of piracy concerns. The sole cut that has been made available in advance, “Elevator,” can be heard below.
The Band’s Clear Autonomy: In addition to King (design and editorial) and Burnham (editorial) taking a hands-on role in the creation of 77-81’s packaging, the box set’s very existence is the result of the band breaking free from its US contract with Warner Bros. Records via Section 203 of the Copyright Act of 1976 (otherwise known as “the 35-Year Law”). As explained in the 77-81 book, “[t]his powerful – yet underutilized – law allows recording artists to terminate grants of rights that they made to record companies, 35 years after publication of the works, and restores ownership of the US copyright in the sound recordings to the artists who recorded them.” Work on the box set – as well as the current deal with Matador – commenced following the official termination of the Warner Bros. connection in 2019 after a two-year process. It’s heartening to see the band finally have control over its recorded output. This isn’t a cash grab by a label looking to capitalize on the band’s legacy and the tragic loss of one of its founders; this is a pure labor of love by those who obviously know how to best respect and represent the band’s material.
If there’s any fault to be found in 77-81, it’s that it is presented as the definitive word on Gang of Four instead of what it really is: A beautiful way to commemorate one very important chapter in its history. The book begins with the words “Gang of Four did its best work between 1977 and 1981[…]” in bold letters, while the proceedings conclude with a statement – jointly credited to King, Allen and Burnham – that the albums included in the box set “show [Gill’s] best recorded work[...].” Yes, this was arguably Gang of Four’s most recognized incarnation and era, but it’s far from the only one that mattered. There was a hell of a lot of great Gang of Four music released post-Allen/Burnham (and even post-King), and Gill was working on new material literally days before his death. While not all of the Gill-led Gang of Four’s output hit its target, there were certainly moments on the band’s later releases that were among his “best recorded work.” To suggest otherwise is to disregard the creative high points of the man’s final years. (For those not in the know, Gill and King reunited for two Gang of Four albums in the 1990s. The original lineup reformed for a spell in the mid 2000s before it was down to Gill and King again. King left following the release of 2011’s Content, leaving Gill to lead the group as its sole founding member until his death last year.)
Quibble aside, 77-81 lovingly – and loudly – represents a time when four very special and deeply inventive people worked together to create something of immense power and significance that will outlive them all. And how many other bands can fill up 10 sides of vinyl in a box set without a single stinker in the bunch?
*The CD version of 77-81 will include a download card of the demo tracks.
EMAIL JOEL at gaustenbooks@gmail.com
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