BLUE CHEER: VINCEBUS ERUPTUM (1968)
1) Summertime Blues; 2) Rock
Me, Baby; 3) Doctor Please; 4) Out Of Focus; 5) Parchment Farm; 6) Second Time
Around.
«The Jimi Hendrix Experience for Lunkheads»,
this is what this band really is, but if you ask me, this is still much better
than the poseur professionalism of Grand Funk Railroad, whose enduring popularity
should have been more justly enjoyed by Blue Cheer. Had they been a Detroit
band, their bite might have been worse than their bark, as they would have to
compete with the Stooges; as it happened, they were based in San Francisco,
where they did enjoy the cult status of the heaviest, wildest band for miles
around, but depended a bit too much on the usual «blues pedigree» that was
shared by everybody in the business, and, despite being at about the same level
of formal musical competence as the Stooges (zero), did not catch neither the
contemporary nor the «revisionist» critical eye with the same force.
But they really should have. For one thing,
there is so much that is «wrong» with this band that this realization alone
should already turn them into cultural heroes. Like, what is their very name
supposed to mean — how on Earth does one produce a «blue cheer»? Or if you are
really going to show off by giving your debut LP a Latin name, how about
getting it right? The correct Latin
translation of "to break out of chains" would be vinculis eruptum, whereas vincebus
is not even a proper wordform in the language. Or if you are covering Mose
Allison's ʽParchman Farmʼ, do you really
need to show how much you care by retitling it ʽParchment Farmʼ? It's not like any inmates in any American prison
ever spent much time scraping calfskin.
However, defying the laws of grammar,
orthography, and semantics is one thing for a musician, and defying the music is quite another. From a simple,
straightforward point of view, what this album represents is an attempt by
three well-meaning, but barely competent guys (Dickie Peterson on bass and
vocals, Leigh Stephens on guitar, Paul Whaley on drums) to provide a local Frisco
substitute for Hendrix — mainly by acquiring the same kind of musical
equipment, but definitely not by learning the same kinds of chords or
nurturing the same kind of imaginative vision. In other words, an embarrassing
fraud.
From a somewhat more complex point of view,
this is a «caveman punk» take on Hendrix that could deserve its own special
acclaim. Not just on Hendrix, of
course: Blue Cheer were fascinated by everything as long as it was loud,
screechy, and heavy — their cover of ʽSummertime Bluesʼ must have been inspired
by The Who's version (which was not yet commercially released at the time, yet
The Who had had the song in their repertoire since the early days), and they
were certainly no strangers to the Yardbirds and Cream, either. But where they
could not match any of these guys in terms of instrumental prowess, they could
match and overcome them in terms of
sheer brute force, which is really what classic Blue Cheer is all about: PURE MUSCLE.
If the opening chords to ʽSummertime Bluesʼ do
not sound quite as mind-blowing as Jimi's ʽFoxy Ladyʼ, from which they are
borrowed, at least they are more distorted — and if the body of the song does
not produce the impression of a thunderstorm (because the bass and drum parts
are fairly wimpy when compared with the Entwistle/Moon rhythm section), it still
comes closer to conveying «dumb teenage frustration» than the exquisite
interplay between The Who could ever bring it. Which is to say, really, that this
particular version also deserves to exist and be listened to — even if most of
whatever Leigh Stephens is playing here does not make any particular musical
sense, other than "hey look, I can make those strings go WHEEEEE! and now
I can make them go BOOOOO! and now I can make y'all believe I'm playing this
thing with my teeth!" Fun thing, that rock'n'roll stuff.
They do have a feel for it, and it can be
infectious. The songs are not so much songs as simply vehicles for wild improvisation
(Peterson is credited with writing three of them, but other than the mediocre riff
on ʽOut Of Focusʼ, I have been unable to spot much «writing» going on) — ʽSecond
Time Aroundʼ sounds like they just left the tape rolling for three extra
minutes after the song was over, and then decided to leave that uncontrolled
chaos on the record (in honor of ʽThird Stone From The Sunʼ or any such other
Hendrix noisefest). Laughable, yes, but every once in a while it so happens
that all you need to do at a certain moment is just «go to eleven», and the
result will be... impressive?
Besides, it's not like they do not know how to
play at all. Stephens' obsession with
pedals, wobbles, fuzz, and distortion does not prevent him from correctly
resolving the melody where he sees it fit to be resolved, or from borrowing
some tricks from the arsenal of free jazz artists as well: at times, it is hard
to understand if he is just being drunk / sluggish / incompetent or if he is
really trying to pull off an Ornette Coleman. Whatever be the case, his playing
turns Vincebus Eruptum into the craziest hard rock album of 1968 I have
ever heard, bar none — an affair in which he is much aided by Peterson (whose sin...
screaming is a little colorless, but loud and brawny enough to match the
guitar) and Whaley, who gives his best Keith Moon / Mitch Mitchell impression
— it still ain't good enough, but not a lot of people in Frisco were even
trying.
In a system of values that praises «wildness»
and «kick-ass potential» in rock music over everything else, Vincebus Eruptum is one of the
indisputable champions. In a subtler system that requires, at the very least,
a unique or technically gifted playing style, and at most, an individual
artistic vision, Blue Cheer will forever be stuck as one of the epitomes of bad
taste. As for myself, in situations like these I do tend to select the
«subtlety be damned» approach — the album has always been a minor favorite of
mine, and I still go for the thumbs up judgement. Want it or not, these guys
pretty much invented «brontosaur rock», where size does matter, and I both
respect it — a little bit — and enjoy it — especially when it helps flush out
unwanted guests.
PS. Oh, and, if I am not mistaken, that riff they
hit in the middle of ʽParchment Farmʼ pretty much predicts
ʽIn-A-Gadda-Da-Vidaʼ; so there you have some of the band's immediate influence
on their contemporaries.
Check "Vincebus Eruptum" (CD) on Amazon
Check "Vincebus Eruptum" (MP3) on Amazon
"not a lot of people in Frisco were even trying"
ReplyDeletewhich is probably the only reason Blue Cheer is worth noting.
"In a system of values that praises «wildness» and «kick-ass potential» in rock music over everything else"
To me this is a false trichotomy. My system of values praises and and and . The latter, as British bands kept on showing at least up to 1977, makes sure my ass hurts more after getting kicked. When Blue Cheer tries I hardly feel an itch - exactly because of lack of competence.
praises wildness and kick-ass potential and competence.
DeleteBlue Cheer were named after an especially potent brand of LSD developed by a certain Owsley, who wrote the "liner notes" on the back cover. He was also a sound engineer who taped hundreds of local gigs, especially by the early Dead (back when they were quite a rough edged bunch of characters themselves).
ReplyDelete"Summertime Blues" was undoubtedly picked up from the Who, which the boys in Blue Cheer would have seen live at the Monterey Pop Festival the preceding summer (the Who's version can be seen on Youtube). At the same festival, our boys would also have seen the Experience, which explains the chaotic finale of "Second Time Around". Add in the influence of Cream, whose debut was finally released in America in the summer of 1967, and you've got all the "influencing" factors.
Needless to say, Blue Cheer were horrible, and they were fucking fantastic. No British group ever kicked this much ass in 1968 (not Cream, not Purple, not Ten Years After).
Beyond mere ass kicking, they...well, nothing. They didn't pretend to be writing great songs (or any songs at all), and the record lasts 32 minutes, and ends with a massive fried amp explosion. Bang for your buck!
Is it a classic? No! Does it rule? YES!
P.S. As for the little bass riff in the middle of "Parchment Farm" influencing "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida", I'd say it was sheer coincidence, as both groups were clearly working off the riff of "Sunshine Of Your Love".
DeleteGot to disagree with the condescending tone of the comments so far. These guys kicked ass and this album is a classic. It's been fashionable for years to slag these guys as incompetent Hendrix imitators but nobody else really sounded like this at the time (not even Hendrix). I guess you had to be there and hear these guys in the context of their time. Unfortunately they couldn't keep it going for a second album. Diminishing returns set in very quickly. I will agree that Grand Funk is probably one of the worst, most overrated bands in rock history.
ReplyDeleteI don't think there's really much condescension in any of the comments thus far. Blue Cheer were clearly a link between the garage bands of the mid-60's and the later heavy metal groups, i.e., a transitional figure which never fit comfortably into either camp. They sure weren't hippies! So what were they? The fact that their manager at the time, a gentleman who went by the charming name of "Gut", was an ex-Hell's Angel ought to be our first clue.
DeleteThe closest British analog to Blue Cheer may well have been the Groundhogs. Check out "Thank Christ For The Bomb" and "Split" for some seriously damaging post-blues/pre-metal that also conveys the "outlaw" spirit of BC, Stooges, and the post-war generation of bluesmen that influenced them all.
As for Grand Funk, they were coming from R&B, Motown style, not the dangerous outlaw blues of Hooker and Wolf. No comparison!
Oh, come on, in terms of ass-kicking there definitely was a competitor: in '68 they were already moving on from the kaleidoscopic psychedelia of "We Are All Flower People" to the uber-heavy "Brainhammer" ("Big Bottom", anyone?).
DeleteThe only thing from 1968 that comes close to this beast in terms of sheer sonic assault is "White Light/White Heat" by the Velvet Underground, and even that was nowhere near as absurd as this one.
ReplyDeleteThis is the second time you've reviewed this record and, again, you didn't mention "Doctor Please", which is probably the most insane track on the album, specifically the break at the 2:19 mark where the band goes absolutely ballistic, not to mention the closing ripped straight from "I Don't Live Today".
Thanks for mentioning Doctor Please. I don't know why, but this song is almost never written about in the numerous reviews of this record. IMO it's the best thing here. The words and singing are spine chilling, and the band plays together like a ripped to hell leather glove that you can't throw away because it still fits so well.
Delete"Blue Cheer" was actually a brand of laundry detergent sold in the US in the 1960s. Owsley in turn took that name for one of his especially potent batches of LSD.
ReplyDeleteThe band named after an Owsley Stanley poem was clearly an acid band. Comparing them with the stooges is weird since the band was in full force prior to the album, and in ther circle there were some very hard local bands with power - they were acid heroes and intelligent.
ReplyDeleteAn fantastic album and one of my 1968 favorites
ReplyDelete