Being respected by the international music underground while being barely acknowledged by your home town isn’t just for indie rockers anymore! Witness the constant creative strivings of St Louis conscious Hip Hop/Neo-Soul/Lounge-Tronica artist Black Spade. For years now, Black Spade has been crafting deep & interesting music, attracting clued in heads the world over, but never going out of his way to call too much attention to himself. Even the packaging of his latest 45, released by long-running underground tastemakers F5, is minimal to the point of non-existence. Only one of the three tracks is even listed on the label. This is white-label promo DJ-only need to know info, I guess. Whatever. The music is what matters, & the music matters. Lead off track After is based on an intricate guitar line worthy of Django Reinhardt. Lyrically, it seems to be a post-relationship lament, but delivered in an admirably vague manner, as if to admit that these kinds of things are too complicated to wrap up neatly in a three minute song. The unlisted second track on side one is a short bouncy “Stay up, stay woke” call to positivity on top of a lounge-y Jazz/Hip-Hop bed that would have been right at home on one of Guru’s mid 90’s albums. Side two is an unlisted instrumental, possibly a deeply remixed & extended version of that second song on side one? Who can tell? Nice handclaps & a Bernie Worrel-lite keyboard solo make it worth repeated visits. I almost feel like this record isn’t for mass consumption, like it just slipped off the truck while some French House DJ was loading in for his secret late night set, but if you want to get deep into this city’s belly, dig yourself up a copy.
St Louis is awash in mysterious one-off Soul 45’s, & it’s a little surprising that some re-issue label hasn’t put together a comprehensive set yet. One of the most mysterious I’ve come across is the song Spellbound, which, despite what I just said about one-off singles, was actually released THREE times over ten years. In 1977, Frank Everett released a version on Big Smoky Records. It’s pleasant enough lo-fi Soul, the recording is pretty flat, but the vocals are solid enough. Also in 1977, Frank E Moore released a much more crisply recorded & harder hitting version on ExoChronos Records, which frankly wins on label name alone. Were Frank Everett & Frank E Moore the same person? Both records credit songwriters FE Moore & GE Patterson II, so yeah, probably? Are either of them Frankie Moore, who ran the Cherokee St Record Exchange? No, I confidently say that they are not. Weirdly, the song was then released a third time, in 1987, this time by female vocalist Monica Lockett & with the slightly altered title of Got Me Spellbound. It’s a way-too-slick, way-too-80’s take that would tarnish the song’s legacy, if the song had any legacy to tarnish. And, this time around, FE Smith’s name was removed from the credits. What does any of this mean? I have no idea. Welcome to the world of mystery underground Soul 45’s! I hope some dork stumbles across Black Spade’s record in thirty years & is similarly led down the rabbit hole.
Here’s Black Spade’s After
https://blackspadevmc.bandcamp.com/track/after
Here’s Frank E Moore’s Spellbound, easily the best of the three recordings
Compared to other citys its size, the St Louis punk/indie scene has released ridiculously few 45s over the years. “Oh yeah?!” you’ll say, & name like fifteen records. “Yeah,” I’ll say, & name like thirty more off the top of my head (give me a few minutes & I’ll name a hundred), & then point out that that’s still not nearly as many as, say, Cincinnati OH or Omaha NE. I don’t know what our deal is. I also don’t know what our obsession is, considering how relatively few 45s we release, with so many of them being 7″ eps with tons of short songs on them, but that I’m kinda into. I’ve released at least two of the stupid things myself (see a previous, totally self-ego-stoking Rebellious Jukebox for more info), & when somebody releases one, I’m first in line to buy it.
Willfully, aggressively, cockily lo-fi, Black Panties are back with their first 45 in a few years, after deluging us with a ton of releases in a ridiculously short span a few years back (see some previous Rebellious Jukeboxes, where I sing their praises & praise their singes). These two new songs released on lo-fi garage-punk tastemaker label Total Punk aren’t liable to find any new fans for the band, & don’t really break any new ground, & hardly live up to the self-aggrandizingly self-referential lyric sheet, but if you think any of that matters to enjoying the Black Panties experience, you are absolutely missing the point. From the opening cacophonous drum solo on, this is the musical equivalent of your drunk friend running into you at some great basement show, & spilling beer all over your shirt. This is the sound of the best garage-punk being made these days. It doesn’t care, & in its not-caring, it finds transcendence.
Some of my favorite stories about the early-mid-80’s St Louis punk scene good old bad old days, just before I started going to shows, are about the gauntlet of angry locals that the punk rockers often had to face getting in & out of the Turner’s Hall shows on the near north side. Generations of inbred white families in this tiny enclave had refused white flight, not out of nobility or racial unity, but out of sheer spite & orneriness, & they weren’t about to let some goddamn punk rock pukes ruin their neighborhood either. Fights were rampant & apparently violent. Legends have it that the one band that could always just waltz through the crowd unmolested by either side was Whoppers Taste Good. Too punk to be metal, but too long haired & scuzzy to be punk, the Whoppers just were.
Heard ya missed me, I’m back. And I brought my pencil, now give me something to play these records on!
Music in the 90’s was pretty terrible. I was there, man. I gotta tell you, though, the stuff that was worth living for was totally worth living for. There was this underground movement of noisy guitar bands bands that made everything okay (I mean, there was some brilliant hip-hop & the beginnings of electronica too, of course, but let’s just talk about stuff that I knew about, okay?). If Posture had been around then, I would have put a song from their new 7″ on every mix tape I made.
They called themselves “St Louis’ Only Real Punk Band,” & in 1996-1997, they were probably close to right. With Ultraman on hiatus & most of the young punks still reeling from the loss of far distant Bastille’s, Last Year’s Youth were kinda the only game in town. Okay, fine, there was Very Metal (who I covered a few Jukeboxes ago). And okay, fine, I preferred the Volatiles (who I covered many Jukeboxes ago), but whatever, it’s not a competition, man! The 1997 Modern Living four song ep had Last Year’s Youth ranting & raging like the leather jacket wearing, boot-stomping street punks they were, with solid riffs, propulsive drumming, & gang chant backing vocals. Lyrically, they mostly stayed away from the “iffy” politics of a lot of street punk bands, dealing instead with the day to day struggle of work, women, & everybody thinking you’re a maniac. I say they mostly stayed away from politics, because side two’s closer Burn, Washington, Burn gets a little jingoistic towards the decrepit morals of the “left wing,” & claims solidarity with the Ruby Ridge incident’s Randy Weaver, so, yipes? It does kinda rail against everyone involved in politics on any side, though, so, okay? Whatever, the Clinton years were tough for people who were trying to be mad about politics.
There’s something to be said about minimalism in rock-n-roll. Get in, make a big noise, get out, wrap up your 3-song 45 in less than five minutes. BBEye have got it down pat. The newest side project from Lumpy & the Dumpers master blaster Martin (here under the nom de rock Miss Penis), the record hits all the marks of the Lumpy Records aesthetic. It’s part in-joke, part inspired amateurism, & part gross-out lyrics, but always worth a listen. The band is, I think, Miss Penis on live drums, cheap keyboards, & maybe some guitar (though the distorted parts might very easily just be tape overload), with female singer Miss Lady (I don’t know who that’s the nom de rock of) on howling no-wave yelping vocals. There’s every chance I’m wrong about all of that. The songs are short, dumb, & crazily catchy. BBEye won’t change your life, but you’re not gonna ask for your five minutes back.
Hard-working duo (now trio? is that permanent?) Bruiser Queen dropped their latest 45 a few months ago, but I just now got myself a copy. Sorry for the delay, loyal Rebellious Jukebox reader. The Telepathic Mind/Rainbow In The Dark 45 finds them continuing to expand their sound, while still holding onto their love of garage grunge. With a ripping guitar solo, bouncy organ, & cool background la-la’s, Telepathic Mind has the lushness displayed on their last full length LP Sweet Static (itself a giant step from the semi-minimalist approach of their first few releases), but adds a definite early 80’s West Coast Psych-Revival feel. It wouldn’t sound out of place on some old Enigma Records comp next to the Pandoras, & that’s always been a musical sweet spot for me. Side B’s Rainbow In The Dark is a solid cover of the 80’s metal classic. Other than the fact that some people will likely find the very notion of a female fronted garage band covering Dio inherently funny, there’s nothing jokey or ironic about their take. The arrangement suits their strengths & Morgan’s vocals have a smokey soulful Dead Weather-ish feel to them. Leaving out the iconic main keyboard riff goes a long way towards making the song their own, as well. Good job all around, & I look forward to whatever’s next.
Carondelet Guy doesn’t mess around. The very first line of his debut solo 45 sets the scene, that he’s “living by the river on Minnesota Street…” That would maybe be enough to tell some folks all they need to know, but he goes on to describe his neighbor, cover star Mr Henry (who gave the record its title), & from there on out you know you’re gonna get that “Real Talk.” You’ve got Rare Breed’s tale of a troubled teen that C-Guy worked with in Springfield MO, you’ve got the ambivalent situational morality of The Day My Drug Dealer Went To Jail, & you’ve got the understanding homage to the Dirty Drunk Hoosier. You’ll get the jokes on the first listen, but then you’ll get that these are real people being sung about. This is folk music at its most honest, sung by someone blurring the lines between observer & participant. With only acoustic guitar & voice, & with a minimum of chord changes, C-Guy’s sound would maybe get a little same-y over the course of a full length LP, but as a 45 it holds together quite nicely. I both love it as is, & wonder what a full band Carondelet Guy would sound like.
Rebellious Jukebox STL 