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JEk'KS “TEX” CARMAN
Chippeha!
Revenant Records
!t’s a sin and a shame that folks
don't know about Jenks “Tex"
Carman. Who? You know, the Dixie
Cowboy — part Cherokee, part
honky from Locust Hill, KY. — who
wore an Indian headdress and coaxed
the sounds of bugles, trains and
explosives from his Hawaiian guitar.
He was a loner who became the butt
end of jokes by his country music
contemporaries during the '40s and
'50s, even though he was as popular
as and appeared on the same bill with
the likes of Lefty Frizzell. Johnny
Cash, Merle Travis. Leon McAuliffe
and the Collins Kids.
Tex Carman was a walking
anachronism, following his own
rhythm, recording records for 4 Star
and Capitol and delighting many with
his television appearances and the
sheer exuberance he brought to
everything he touched. Until recently,
he had been more or less forgotten.
Yet, thanks to John Fahey's
Revenant Records label out of
Nashville and its devotion to putting
*ut raw music by everyone from
Harmonica Frank Floyd to Cecil
Taylor. Tex is back with us. Including
12 tunes from his 4 Star days, seven
more from his Capitol stretch in the
‘50s, and a bonus 15-minute segment
from the U.S. Air Force's "Country
Music Time," this collection makes it
plain that the man was from his own,
unalterable place. He old enough
(born 1S03) to have found his style in
the Hawaiian music popular during
his youth and eccentric enough to
hold onto it for the rest of his life.
And as boisterously infectious as
his performances of the ‘Hillbilly
Hula” and “Wreck of the Old 97" still
are, there is an element o f bittersweet
ness surrounding him. It's as if this
inflexible man and his headdress
were more than a little sad, and it’s
this sadness that makes his music
continue to resonate.
For more on Revenant records,
see The Oxford American's recent
issue on Southern music. This label’s
music is fun. important and rati (P.O.
Box 198732 Nashville, Tn. 37219-
6732.)
Bruce Miller
SPUTNIK
Sublunarperspectives
Local Independent Release
This album by local combo
Sputnik is a soundtrack in search of a.
film — preferably a film involving
slow-motion hallucinations, futuristic
urban high fasnion and slick lounge
lizard characters.
The 11 instrumental tracks on the
CD are more like loosely arranged
compositions than actual songs. The
bulk of the album places emphasis on
rhythm and groove, with atmospheric
embellishment on the top. Songs like
“At 365" and “F Is For Freedom." as
most of the material here, funks along
with wah-wah guitar, drums and bass.
This local group's sound has
never been easily categorized — not
quite funk or jazz, not quite nip-hop
or Windham Hill-type new age. If the
experts eve'r create a new “Space Trip
Lounge' category, these youngsters
will come out on top of the heap.
Ballard Lesemann
TOMMY BOY’S
GREATEST BEATS
Tommy Boy Records
Tommy Boy has a box set. Why?
Aren't box sets for those old, dusty
labels like Decca, Chess and
Sugarhill? Oh yeah, Sugarhill...
Blindly following in the footsteps of
Sugarhill Records, Tommy Boy has
released a hip-hop (and other assort
ed dance track) collation that will
take you back to the mack and the
wack that’s beer^ropped by one of
hip-hop's premier lauels over the last
17 years. /
Many will find this collection a
little problematic. Sure it’s got some
vital tracks and it comes in a cute lit
tle plastic milk crate — but it's also
like a puzzle that's missing two thirds
of the pieces. The singles that made
up the heart and soul of Tommy Boy
records had more than one mix of
each song on them. They came with
instrumentals, a capellas, remixes,
remix instrumentals, bonus beats,
and bonus tracks. With different inter
pretations of what was ultimately the
“same" track, the hip-hop remix sin
gle gave the DJ a different perspective
of the music.
Usually I would try to overlook
this and just rack it up to another
major-label gone K-Tel production.
Labels have to make money. But
Tommy Boy had the nerve to package
this collection in a little plastic milk
crate “just like what the DJs used.”
Which begs the question: CDs in
a milk crate? What kind of patronizing
crap is that? Maybe I'm just being
salty, but it seems like they’ve tried to
cheapen the image of what a milk
crate means to theii music. It was in
the milk crates that you found real,
honest-to-god, vinyl singles that were
beautiful creations. They know what a
milk crate is They know what a milk
crate means. And they've got to know
that what they're doing is bullshit.
After all, this is the same label that
still keeps “Planet Rock" in print!
Trying to say that five CDs in a cute
little beanie-baby sized milk crate is
some kind of ‘90s replacement for 17
years o f scratchy vinyl in a real milk
crate isn't just stupid, it’s insulting.
All in all you il hear the hits that
you want to hear (Bambaataa's “Planet
Rock," a kickin' remix of De La's
“Buddy,” Apache's “Gangsta Bitch”)
along with a bunch of shit that you
wish you could escape from (that stu
pid “Pure Energy” song. Coolio's
“Gangsta’s Paradise") as well as a few
that you don't want peopie to know
you like (Naughty By Nature's “O.PP"
and the classic “Humpty Dance” from
the Digital Underground) but ulti
mately you're going to be left feeling
cold. Save your dough and buy the
RUN-DMC singles box set. You'll get
that ol' school flavor in a better box.
Keith Baitseli
DYNAMITE HIGH
Rock Island EP
Crack Rock Records
So rock is dead, huh? Not quite.
Not with small beasts like this six-
song mini-album still rearing up
from the heap of what's commonly
referred to as “indie rock" (a.k.a. the
guitar-based rock alternative to
“alternative"). Dynamite High, the
recently-formed local rock quartet
featuring two former North
Carolinians and two Athens scene
vets, offer some much-needed hope
and assurance to the thinning
masses of local rock music fans
with this gem
Rock Island combines elements
of the golden era of unaffected indie-
label bands (approximately ‘84 - ‘921
and bits and pieces from earlier
artists who influenced that era. The
kinda young with the kinda old.
Remember Neil Young collaborating
onstage with Sonic Youth? Rock
Island brings to mind Ray Davies or
Roger McGuinn collaborating witn
Sebadoh or Urge Overkill in an inex
pensive studio parallel.
The gruff and valiant opening
track “Song Of Fistfight" reminds one
of early Guided By Voices minus the
fake British accent. The following
songs. "Confederate Pie" and “Keep
Us Away," march along, counting in
threes and fours, in respectiui Yo La
Tengo/Pixes fashion. The slower,
more sarcastic “You Want It, You Got
It" (what? ...blood, like AC/DC?)
could well be a Plimsouls tune
'"played by Eddie Money (that's meant
in the most positive way). The dri
ving, anthemic “Baby I Don’t Mind"
starts out like a barbiturate-fueled
love song and ends on the catchiest
chorus on the record. Closing track
“Can't Get High" best exemplifies the
band's double-guitar approach, with
guitarist Scott Sosebee’s single-note
lines responding to every vocal
/erse. There's a gritty honesty to the
sound of guitarist Curtis Brown's and
drummer Joe Roe's singing that sets
nicely atop the distortion of the
band’s guitar and bass foundation.
Look for this in local stores, and
don't be fooled by the phony reggae
colors on the album cover. (P.O.Box
49894, Athens, GA 30604-9894)
Ballard Lesemann
EVERLAST
Whitey Ford Sings the Blues
Tommy Boy Records
“The white boy is back/and you
know he can never be wack.” So pro
claims the intro to former House of
Pain MC Everlast's first solo effort. I
couldn't disagree more. “Wack" is
just one of the terms I would use to
describe this utter piece of shit. Who
at Tommy Boy thought giving this
guy a r ecord deal was a good idea?
Try listening to the fusion ol “hard
street rhymes" and alterna rock with
out laughing. Avoid at ali costs.
Chris Morris
FLAGPOLE MUSIC DIRECTORY
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