Today's Hotness: Johnny Foreigner, Fashoda Crisis

>> A new release from Clicky Clicky top-faves Johnny Foreigner turns any day into Christmas, and when the release is dropped on us as a total surprise, well, it is that much more enjoyable. So imagine the glee we felt Monday morning heading back to work/drudgery after a delightful holiday at the beach when an email from Bandcamp announced the arrival of AlwaysTheBarmaidNeverTheBar -- Live Recordings 2013-14, a new live album from the Birmingham, England-based noise-pop titans. The title of the 19-song set is self-explanatory: the collection indeed does contain live recordings captured during the last 18 months, a period of time during which Johnny Foreigner gestated and released its triumphant fourth LP You Can Do Better [review/postscript]. AlwaysTheBarmaidNeverTheBar features recordings of a number of tracks from that LP and its precedent, the 2012 Names EP, but if anything the collection is remarkable because of how well it covers the quartet's 10-year career. Sure, there's nothing from the band's "lost" first full-length WeLeftYouSleepingAndGoneNow, but there is a cracking version of the early, early tune "Candles," which was part of the Every Day Is A Constant Battle compilation that was, along with the rest of the band's rarities, gussied and put on Bandcamp back in 2010. The legendary "The Coast Was Always Clear" is included, as are cracking versions of older singles "Dark Harbourz," "With Who, Who, And What I've Got" and "Eyes Wide Terrified." Perhaps even more exciting than the breadth and depth of AlwaysTheBarmaidNeverTheBar are the blazing and tight performances. The pulsing live version of the terrifically affecting "Riff Glitchard" may in fact be definitive, and the dynamic and seemingly effortlessly great iteration of "To The Death," fronter Alexei Berrow's chronicling of living in the wake of a friend's suicide, is also a marvel. The band's personality shines in smatterings of hilarious stage banter. And the whole damn set is available as a pay-what-you-like download, which is totally amaze considering the quality and quantity here. That said, Johnny Foreigner do have something new for sale, in the form of a new You Can Do Better T-shirt, the purchase of which also entitles the buyer to a download of the new, four-song Candyland session, which was recorded live in the band's studio in Birmingham. Details on the shirt/session deal are right here; listen to all of AlwaysTheBarmaidNeverTheBar -- Live Recordings 2013-14 via the Bandcamp embed below and click through to give the band some money for it. Our highest recommendation.



>> Early this month we had an editorial powwow with Mr. Charlton about the then-new Hard Left single and the discussion turned to our increasing disappointment with the lack of political engagement in contemporary indie rock. During the exchange we grasped for examples of bands doing such work these days (in addition to Hard Left, of course, which has since announced a second, equally potent single). We did come up with a couple of course, but for some reason we didn't recollect at the time one of the strongest exemplars: the mighty Southend-on-Sea, England-based agit-punk concern Fashoda Crisis. The trio Monday released its third long-player, a brawling yet sophisticated 11-song set of filth and fury titled Almost Everyone is Entirely Average at Almost Everything. We recall an article in the Philadelphia Inquirer about the surprising popularity of Jane's Addiction (this was around the time of the release of Nothing's Shocking), and that the article included a fan quote dubbing Jane's "thinking man's metal" or some (gender-insensitive) such. Well, Fashoda Crisis certainly qualifies as "thinking man's punk." Its thrilling collection commences with the incisive line "amnesiac electorate you have relapsed and left us with a system that worships television politicians," and proceeds from there scooping out satire, manifesto and social criticism to any takers. Fronter Sim Ralph characteristically berates the objects of his white-hot ire in a vitriolic voice not unlike that of Black Francis at the Pixies-man's most unhinged. Mr. Ralph is no slouch when it comes to "unhinged," either: Fashoda Crisis' "Everything: The Musical," a highlight of the new album, features the comically bizarre, syncopated lyric "don't question my version of events, I'm wearing pajamas." Underpinning the anger and weirdness of Almost Everyone is Entirely Average at Almost Everything are tight, dynamic performances and intelligent songwriting. It makes the set indelibly refreshing, not only because it dares to rouse some rabble, but because it is so well-executed and well-conceived. Almost Everyone is Entirely Average at Almost Everything was released digitally by Fashoda Crisis Monday, and will be issued on vinyl later this year; fans who purchase the digital download receive a £7 discount on the LP when it is ready to ship. The set is on offer now in various bundles via Bandcamp, with added inducements coming in the form of t-shirts and posters and badges for the discerning punk fan. Fashoda Crisis are slated to perform July 5 at The Ace Hotel in Shoreditch, London, and Aug. 28 at Gwidhw, Cardiff, for those of you reading these words from the opposite side of the Atlantic. In the meantime, soothe your savage breast with the sounds of Almost Everyone is Entirely Average at Almost Everything via the embed below. We last wrote about Fashoda Crisis here in late 2012.

That Was The Show That Was: Frank Black | The Beachcomber, Wellfleet, MA | 28 July

[We are pleased to mark the return to these digital pages of the writing of longtime friend and former editor Ric Dube. Mr. Dube these days hosts the terrific More Lost Time rare indie rock podcast. Subscribe right here -- we continue to heartily endorse his product and/or service. Photo by Ric Dube. -- Ed.]

The Beachcomber billed the man as Black Francis, so it seemed like a lot of people showed upexpecting to hear Pixies songs, of which few were played. But within moments of the erstwhile Charles Michael Kittridge Thompson IV's taking the stage, guitar slung behind his back, it was clear that this was a Frank Black show. Tom Waits' "The Black Rider" was more preached than sung, an insane carnival barker's pitch delivered on the edge of a erupting volcano. And while a celebrity of his caliber can usually expect to have the crowd on his side anyway, it would have been difficult for any audience to have not been immediately attracted to the confidence of his evangelism. "The Black Rider" turned into a version of Larry Norman's "Six-Sixty-Six," completing a de facto cover medley for the damned, before Black took a breath to greet the crowd.

The crowd at the Beachcomber on a night like this one is a weird marginalized bunch because you have to understand the Beachcomber. More than 50 years old, the club sits at the end of a narrow road at the bottom of a hill, yet still on top of a cliff overlooking Cahoon Hollow Beach, one of the few beaches in New England with surfable waves. A big chunk of the place is open-air patio-style, they don't require shirts or shoes and are thus the only nightclub you're likely ever to hang out where the sand on the floor wasn't dumped there in an effort to manufacture atmosphere.

For the most part, the police leave the Beachcomber and Cahoon Hollow alone, so it's a 24-hour party there. During the day, it's a parking nightmare as locals and tourist families jockey for space on the beach and meals at the Beachcomber. In the evening, the Beachcomber is the nightspot of choice, but never feels crowded because there's practically no border between it and the beach. Late at night, the area becomes its own lovably freakish community.

This means that at a Frank Black show there's an odd mix of more casual Pixies fans, bigger fans who appreciated every movement their hero made, casual tourists in the room more to check out a legendary nightclub, and stoned locals just making their regular scene. I'm part of a tourist family, but part of the Beachcomber faithful, indoctrinated in the '80s, and lucky to schedule vacation in Wellfleet the week this show is booked.

Black performed with Eric Drew Feldman, the former Captain Beefheart and Pere Ubu bassist and keyboard player who produced Black’s 1994 Teenager of the Year, played on 2000's Frank Black and the Catholics' Dog In The Sand and has worked closely with PJ Harvey, Polyphonic Spree and others. The set included a handful of tunes from Teenager ("Two Reelers," "Sir Rockaby," "I Want to Live on an Abstract Plain") alongside Dog In The Sand numbers ("Robert Onion," "Bullet," "The Swimmer").

It has seemed weird for a lot of years that Black's best-known solo material has remained the two cuts on his 1993 debut solo release that got a fair amount of MTV video airplay despite that stuff being fairly mediocre compared to both the quality and amount of his output since then. It's just another indication of the power of MTV during that time. "Los Angeles" and "I Heard Ramona Sing" got some of the biggest responses of the set, though to be fair, it was hard not to appreciate versions of those tunes stripped of almost anything but the barest parts. What made that first solo record a little disappointing was not so much the songs as how overweight the damn songs were -– in every possible way.

Those there for Pixies numbers got the aforementioned few; in addition to "Where Is My Mind?" and "Nimrod’s Son," Black's own "Ten Percenter" turned into a noodling rendition of "Planet of Sound." Amid applause, Black mused, "Sometimes that sends a few people out the door, and sometimes that brings a few people in."

Twenty or so numbers flew by, as is always the case the crowd called for more, and Black declined with a smile on his face –- making it clear he was not playing coy by unplugging and bagging his guitar on the spot. "We have to drive to Hyannis tonight and it's late as it is," he explained.

In fairness to the fans, Hyannis is just not all that long a drive from Wellfleet. Thought it was late, for some. The flipside of the police mostly leaving the Beachcomber and Cahoon Hollow to exist in its microcosm is ever vigilant patrolling for drunk driving and disorderly behavior of every nearby road. With the show over, it was still too soon to drive home. I wandered down the trail toward the beach in darkness so thick I couldn't see my feet, though near the bottom I could see a few bonfires. Above, every star in the sky was clearly visible. "Who are you?" said a girl in the blackness behind me.

"Hi," I answered, my arms across my chest, looking up at the night sky. "Did you see the show?"

"Yeah," she answered. "He was beautiful. But I didn’t know any of those songs. Hey, we’ve got
some weed -- but I don’t want to interrupt your peeing." -- Ric Dube

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