THE BONZO DOG BAND: LET'S MAKE UP AND BE FRIENDLY (1972)
1) The Strain; 2) Turkeys; 3)
King Of Scurf; 4) Waiting For The Wardrobe; 5) Straight From My Heart; 6)
Rusty; 7) Rawlinson End; 8) Don't Get Me Wrong; 9) Fresh Wound; 10) Bad Blood;
11) Slush; 12*) Suspicion; 13*) Trouser Freak.
For one of those «contractual obligation»
albums that usually turn out to be predictably disappointing, the
sardonically-titled Let's Make Up And Be
Friendly actually isn't half-bad. Not only is it the longest Bonzo Dog Band
record up to date (although that is mostly the result of two intentionally
drawn-out and overlong tracks), but it is clear that quite a bit of imagination
and work was involved in its production — even despite the fact that Stanshall,
Innes, and bassist Dennis Cowan were the only regular Bonzos to oversee all of
the recording (ʽLegsʼ Larry Smith and Roger Ruskin Spear make guest appearances
on a few tracks). In spirit, Let's Make
Up is closer to a «comedy» product than an «experimental» release, but it
has its parallels with just about every single other Bonzo Dog Band release,
so, as a career wrap-up, it is fairly adequate, and, in my opinion, quite
unjustly maligned by fans.
Arguably the
major miscalculation was to open the album with ʽThe Strainʼ — a comic blues-rock
ode to constipation that many people logically consider way too crude and
unworthy of these guys' reputation. I mean, toilet humor? Come on now! But on
second thought, there is really nothing that wrong with toilet humor if it is
done well (the major mistake of 99% of toilet humor being in that people
somehow think that the subject is always funny per se, and does not need any special intellectual input), and ʽThe
Strainʼ is done well to the point of genuine hilariousness — with Stanshall
singing it in a Captain Beefheart voice and, of course, ʽThe Strainʼ itself
being a mock-analogy with a popular dance ("Hey hey human gonna do The
Strain / I'm gonna grip the seat I'm gonna pull the chain"). Throw in a
kick-ass guitar solo, the most authentic «straining noises» possible in a human
being, and you really get the best song about constipation issues the other
side of Screamin' Jay Hawkins' ʽConstipation Bluesʼ (which may have very well
served as the basic inspiration for the Bonzos' polite British answer).
Nor does the album sound particularly out of
time or out of touch — even for these contractual purposes, the Bonzos still keep
their eyes and ears open, so that the inspiration, production, and mood-setting
touches are very much reminiscent of the early 1970s or, at least, very late
1969. ʽRustyʼ, a tragicomic spoken monologue about a homosexual couple breaking
up, is set to a slow soulful arrangement, with deep gospel harmonies and a
blazing wah-wah lead part all the way through, as though it were influenced by
Funkadelic's ʽMaggot Brainʼ. Roger's ʽWaiting For The Wardrobeʼ begins as a
somber avantgarde number, all electronic noise and percussion, before turning
into a schizophrenic electric blues-rocker. And ʽDon't Get Me Wrongʼ is
naturally reminiscent of ʽDon't Let Me Downʼ, although the melody is a bit more
Otis Redding.
On the «serious» side of things, there's
ʽTurkeysʼ, a curious instrumental that shows traces of interest in avantgarde
jazz and not-too-modern classical (of the Bartók and/or Shostakovich variety,
I'd say), and ʽRawlinson's Endʼ, mostly resting on a series of piano
improvisations, from ragtime to impressionistic to completely free-form —
although the track essentially functions as a musical introduction to the
character of Sir Henry Rawlinson, a favorite character of Viv Stanshall's whom
he would later explore in greater detail in his solo career. The spoken-word
monolog, very much in the vein of the nonsensical ʽBig Shotʼ from Gorilla, may be freely ignored, but the
accompaniment is not without its merits.
As a matter of fact, there is not a single
track on here that I could just call «plain bad». Where they are saddling old
warhorses like Elvis-style balladry (ʽStraight From My Heartʼ) or write very
straightforward parodies on specific genres (the country-western ʽBad Bloodʼ),
the results are at least mildly fun, and ʽKing Of Scurfʼ is one of their best
stabs at old-fashioned teen-pop, though, admittedly, this one is a bit outdated
by the standards of 1972 (and it was probably way beneath their contempt to try
a stab at The Osmonds). One really strange thing, though — why write and
perform a song that intentionally sounds like mediocre John Lennon circa 1963
(ʽFresh Woundʼ)? (There is also an explicit Beatles reference in the song, when
Neil says "come on George, snap out of it" — apparently, a «hidden
message» to a then-currently depressed Harrison).
Finally, the two-minute coda of ʽSlushʼ is
probably the sweetest-funniest way of saying goodbye to the fans imaginable —
leave it to the Bonzos to «spoil» a sweet, innocent, pastoral soundscape,
written as if specially for a romantic movie soundtrack, with their zany looped
overdub: a ridiculous and symbolic
gesture. Or you could go even farther and say that the echoey looped laughter
is the voice of Pan, The Great Satyr himself, always happy to conjugate beauty
with mischief at the most improper moment in time.
It is said that, when pressed into their
«contractual obligation», their first bitter move was to go into the studio,
set a timer for 45 minutes, and make a record out of anything and everything
they recorded in the meantime — but then the next day, they relented, repented,
and decided that they couldn't be that
cruel to their remaining loyal fans. Maybe it was all for the better, because
that way, they were able to let off steam, then sleep on it and gather some
inspiration and good sense by the morning. That way, from ʽThe Strainʼ and all
the way through to ʽSlushʼ and the farewell message of "...dada for
now!" on the back cover, Let's Make
Up And Be Friendly is consistently busy tying up loose ends and,
occasionally, maybe even indicating new ways of development for the future. Not
that it really is the Bonzos' Abbey Road
or anything, but it is quite a graceful way to go out all the same, well worth
a thumbs up
and a get-it recommendation — particularly if you are not afraid of a little
bit of high-quality toilet humor.
"there is really nothing that wrong with toilet humor if it is done well"
ReplyDeleteAh, that reminds me of the first Dutch band that sang in incomprehensible dialect (for most Dutchies, not for me):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXxYG6WQnFA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXxYG6WQnFA
Don't Get Me Wrong sounds like either a bad Let it Be outtake or an above-average Brinsley Schwarz track.
ReplyDelete