Bad Brains: Live At CBGB 1982

BAD BRAINS: LIVE AT CBGB 1982 (1982/2006)

1) Big Takeover; 2) I; 3) Jah The Conqueror; 4) Supertouch/Shitfit; 5) Rally Round Ja's Throne; 6) Right Brigade; 7) FVK; 8) I And I Survive; 9) Destroy Babylon; 10) Joshua's Song; 11) Unity Dub; 12) The Meek; 13) Banned In D.C.; 14) How Low Can A Punk Get; 15) Riot Squad; 16) I And I Rasta; 17) We Will Not; 18) The Regulator; 19) All Rise To Meet Jah.

And, I suppose, a representative account of Bad Brains would not be quite complete without a few words on this archive release — the only official live album that captures Bad Brains at their glory day peak, sometime in December 1982, playing their guts out to an enthusiastic CBGB crowd with Rock For Light still to come and the unfortunate metallic reinvention of I And I still way beyond the horizon.

The immediate bad news is that the sound quality, particularly on the hardcore ultra-fast stuff (the reggae grooves end up a little less blurry) is abysmal. Allegedly, the recording was pro­fessional, since Bad Brains were also captured on several cameras that evening — the official re­lease is doubly precious, since it comes in both audio and video form. But either they used really cheap audio equipment, or the mikes were set up all wrong, in any case, the sound is so seriously messy that I would never have guessed on my own that it did not originate from an «audience quality» bootleg tape. So heed this warning.

The other news is that there are no news — as I already said in the review of Live, at their most revved up, Bad Brains offer little difference between the psychopathic thunderstorm in the studio and the psychopathic thunderstorm on stage. Watching the spectacle is an entirely different matter, although not necessarily a pleasant one (I, for one, would definitely not want to find myself at CBGB on that particular evening, judging by the erratic behaviour of some of the audience) — but listening to it post-factum in garbage-pail sound quality is sort of superfluous, at best.

You do get to hear them play more classic super-fast shit and more of their good reggae numbers than on any other live release, and there are a few tracks here that did not make it on any studio record, either (mostly also reggae stuff like ʽJah The Conquerorʼ). But these are tasty bits for big fans: overall, Live At CBGB is more of an important historical document — and, for some people, also a potential energy / vitality-charged battery, if they get it together with the ac­com­panying DVD. As a piece of music, it is nearly worthless; as a source of inspiration for those who agree that H.R. and Dr. Know did embody the genuine spirit of 1982 — it may be priceless.

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Bad Brains: Black Dots

BAD BRAINS: BLACK DOTS (1979/1996)

1) Don't Need It; 2) At The Atlantis; 3) Pay To Cum; 4) Supertouch/Shitfit; 5) Regulator; 6) You're A Migraine; 7) Don't Bother Me; 8) Banned In D.C.; 9) Why'd You Have To Go; 10) The Man Won't Annoy Ya; 11) Redbone In The City; 12) Black Dots; 13) How Low Can A Punk Get; 14) Just Another Damn Song; 15) Attitude; 16) Send You No Flowers.

This set of demos, recorded by the band as early as 1979 at the soon-to-be-famous Inner Ear Stu­dios in Arlington (at that time, located in the basement of recording engineer Don Zientara), had long since passed into legend before it was officially released as an archival treasure in 1996. Quite a few fans still worship it as Bad Brains' finest hour — which is hardly a major surprise for a hardcore act, where «first» frequently equals «best» just because nobody needs a «second». And even though acknowledging this means being really mean to Bad Brains and Rock For Light — after all, there must have been a reason why they did not want to make these tapes pub­lic in the first place — after a few listens, I feel almost ready to concur.

The trick is that in 1979, the «classic» sound of Bad Brains was not quite ready yet. Most impor­tantly, the band had not yet developed their insanely fast tempos: ʽPay To Cumʼ clocks in at 2:02 here, compared to 1:25 on Bad Brains, and the proportions for the rest are quite similar. This certainly does not mean that these tempos are «slow» — they do take a bite out of the band's alle­ged uniqueness, but let's face it, there is a certain point where acceleration starts bordering on the ridiculous — or, at least, the rhythm section parts start blurring together like telegraph posts out the win­dows of an express train, creating the illusion (or, sometimes, the reality) of sloppiness and out-of-control chaos. On Black Dots, the band takes care not to cross that border — they are being very fast and very aggressive, but never go over the top.

On the other hand, in 1979 Bad Brains had not yet fully worked out their reggae schtick: there is only one reggae number on the record, ʽThe Man Won't Annoy Yaʼ, and even that is more of a tentative reggae/rhumba hybrid than a proverbially solid Rasta prayer from H.R. and the gang. Everything else is straightforward, monolithic, ultra-vicious punk stuff — no prisoners taken, no mercy granted, and H.R. is still singing it in a somewhat traditional punkish bark: snarling and vengeful, but not yet schizophrenic.

The only thing that is mildly merciful are the tempos, which allow you to better appreciate Dr. Know's creaitivty: for instance, the intro riff to ʽDon't Need Itʼ turns out to be a cool, well thought out rock'n'roll riff, which I never noticed once it had been sped up into an incomprehensible wobbly mumble on Bad Brains. Additionally, the band's sense of humor is more overt here than it would be once their Rasta fixation got the better of them — ʽJust Another Damn Songʼ, for instance, feels like a subtle sendup of the very hardcore / minimalist values the band allegedly set out to promote, since lyrically, musically, and mood-wise it is just another damn song.

There is even a sort of equivalent of a «love ballad» here — ʽWhy D'You Have To Goʼ sounds like an (intentional?) parody on old-school sentimental garage rock (music) and blue-eyed soul (H.R.'s breaking down vocal): hardly a «good song» in any sense, and they would never ever try this again, but actually, in the absence of proper reggae counterbalance, it is good to have an oc­casional breakaway from the «rock'n'roll speedboat pattern».

Overall, the album fully deserves its reputation. The sound quality is actually higher here than it would be on Bad Brains, so there is no reason to shy away from the «demos» sticker. And even if the individual songs still do not stand out as brightly shaped as one could hope, given the slight decrease in tempo, Bad Brains were still one of the speediest bands around in 1979, and the H.R./Dr. Know duo — one of the most badass duos of the year.

It all conforms to the observation that hardcore bands generally «blow their wad» over the first 20 or so months of their existence — Bad Brains just spent too much time without a proper record contract on their hands: by the time they released Rock For Light, their first properly recorded and engineered record, they'd already spent six long years in hard­core mode, so no wonder Black Dots gets so much respect. Rock For Light may still remain the definitive «mature» Bad Brains album to play off both their aggression and spirituality, but Black Dots reminds us more properly of how they made their name in the first place — a naturally inevitable thumbs up here if we agree to care about this band at all.

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Bad Brains: Into The Future

BAD BRAINS: INTO THE FUTURE (2012)

1) Into The Future; 2) Popcorn; 3) We Belong Together; 4) Youth Of Today; 5) RubADub Love; 6) Yes I; 7) Suck Sess; 8) Jah Love; 9) Earnest Love; 10) Come Down; 11) Fun; 12) Maybe A Joyful Noise; 13) MCA Dub.

Unfortunately, Adam Yauch was prevented from producing the next Bad Brains album by his death from cancer in 2012. Consequently, the band produced the album on their own — exactly the same way as Adam would have produced it, or so they thought, dedicating the record to his memory. Supposedly, Into The Future refers to the future of the Beastie Boys' legacy, and may­be to Yauch's future life and achievements in Heaven, than to Bad Brains' own future — which, by the looks of this album, does not seem too different from their past.

In fact, by this time we pretty much have a stable understanding of what a «late period Bad Brains album» is supposed to sound like: a loud, clean, meticulously sanitized mix of hardcore, metal, and reggae with a middle-age spiritual undercurrent. The latter bit seems ineffective — I am not sure how many people there still remain to seriously care about H.R.'s preaching: if lines like "The youth of today / Is the man of tomorrow / They don't live in tears / Beg, steal or bor­row" seem promising to you on paper, H.R.'s grinning joker-tone may add to the promise, but then again, it might not — by now, it is so completely predictable in its theatrical poise that the original «mystique» is in danger of mutating to «irritation».

The thing is — as long as Bad Brains were young and keen on following their basic instincts, and also as long as they were playing beyond top speed and on the verge of chaos, they had intrigue: even if you were not wooed over by their playing style, there definitely was something intellectu­ally incomprehensible about their music. But now, just take a listen to the title track. Its melody is deliberately stuck somewhere between old school garage rock and new school hardcore, each chord polished and dusted off as if this was an introduction to the friggin' «Well-Tempered Elec­tric Guitar». Except that the chord sequences hardly display any freshness or originality: this is discipline without verve, a soul-free pro job that no longer has any musical meaning.

Perhaps this point might be even better illustrated by a song named ʽFunʼ — although it is about as far from any real fun as a Celine Dion ballad. Generic thrash metal chugging alternating with languid distorted power chords, set to a rather silly mantra ("Let's have fun, we all need fun, and this music is fun, school is fun, love is fun") — unless they actually think it's ironic, which it is not, this is one of the least appropriate anthems to fun-making that I have ever heard. If you listen to it long enough, it may begin to seem catchy, but the trick is that a properly catchy song has to catch you with an emotion, not with repetition. And what is that emotion?

Overall, I refrain from any judgements on this record, just like I did with its predecessor. It is for­mally listenable, even the posh reggae numbers with amazing titles like ʽJah Loveʼ, but emotio­nally and intellectually, it is basically just a blank, and both of the key members are to blame — Dr. Know just seems content to sit on his legacy, and H.R., having said goodbye to his old mad­man image... is really just a Paul D. Hudson like any other Paul D. Hudson in the London area.

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Bad Brains: Build A Nation

BAD BRAINS: BUILD A NATION (2007)

1) Give Thanks And Praises; 2) Jah People Make The World Go Round; 3) Pure Love; 4) Natty Dreadlocks 'Pon The Mountain Top; 5) Build A Nation; 6) Expand Your Soul; 7) Jah Love; 8) Let There Be Angels (Just Like You); 9) Universal Peace; 10) Roll On; 11) Until Kingdom Comes; 12) In The Beginning; 13) Send You No More Flowers; 14) Peace Be Unto Thee.

Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys produced this one, and his young grateful-apprentice influence on the old masters cannot be underestimated: Build A Nation promptly returns Bad Brains to their classic reggae-meets-hardcore formula and, for the most part, keeps them there, for better or for worse. Unfortunately, I sort of get the feeling that Yauch must have been the happiest partici­pant of the sessions — maybe Dr. Know did not really mind being steered back to the styles that started it all, but I do not sense much enthusiasm, either.

H.R. might be the one to blame: no longer having the drive or energy to sound like the slobbering madman of old, he prefers to go for a calmer, hazy-mysticism-soaked vocal style on pretty much every song, be it fast or slow, loud or quiet, but his nasal overtones make the overall effect irrita­ting rather than mesmerizing. On the other hand, it's not as if Dr. Know was sending him tons of freshly baked awesome riffs to undermine — as expected, no songs here suffer from excessive memorability, so to speak. If this is the best original material they could come up with in twelve years, it can only mean that they did not really bother coming up with anything — just went into the studio and bashed all of this out on the spot, with Yauch's stylistic guidance as the only point of potential attraction.

Yes, it is a «comeback» of sorts — for one thing, there are some super-fast tracks here, first time in God knows when; however, if you compare these new quickie-speedy one-minute recordings like ʽPure Loveʼ and the title track with anything from the Rock For Light era, you will see that these ones are tighter, cleaner, better structured than the exuberant noisefests of old. A professio­nal's dream, perhaps, but the whole point of Bad Brains used to be in how anthemically mad they were — Build A Nation, in contrast, is much too calculated and stiff, a problem it certainly shares with the absolute majority of 21st century music, but that is no reason to be forgiving.

As for the reggae numbers, too much of this stuff comes in direct prayer form — the album opens with the partially acappella ʽGive Thanks And Praisesʼ, continues with ʽJah Loveʼ, and ends with ʽPeace Be Unto Theeʼ. Rasta people might, perhaps, be wooed, but none of these songs, really, is ʽMy Sweet Lordʼ-caliber: just ordinary reggae prayers for regular reggae crowds. Not even a single juicy apocalyptic ride on the waves of syncopation.

By all means, this is Bad Brains' best album since at least 1986 (not counting the surprisingly creative dub work on I & I Survived), and, if you, too, dislike the band's transition from hardcore to metal, even since Rock For Light — but this simply isn't saying much, given the generally abysmal quality of their studio stuff ever since they first asked themselves the fatal question, «what next?». An almost surefire delight for hardcore fans; a mostly predictable disappointment, I guess, for everyone else, although, out of sheer respect for the collaboration between Yauch and the old boys, it might be best to refrain from a direct thumbs down this time around. But it goes without saying that you won't ever build a nation with this brand of brickwork.

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Bad Brains: I & I Survived

BAD BRAINS: I & I SURVIVED (2002)

1) Jah Love; 2) Overdub; 3) How Low Can A Punk Get; 4) I & I Survive; 5) Cowboy; 6) Gene Machine; 7) Ghetto; 8) Rally; 9) September; 10) Ragga Dub; 11) Gene Machine (remix); 12) I & I Survive (Shiner massive mix).

Yes, you know a band is real deep in trouble when its best album in at least fifteen years turns out to be a throwaway, most probably recorded on the whiffy spur of one moment — in this case, a pack of instrumental reggae (a.k.a. dub) re-workings of their past compositions, both originally reggae ones and hardcore ones. The fans were mostly outraged, judging by the average «popular» reviews of the album; the critics remained indifferent or mildly amused; H.R. remained uninvol­ved (I am not even sure if he was with the band in 2002); and overall, this generally counts as a minor footnote in their discography — but, as it happens, footnotes sometimes turn out to be more informative and insightful than the main body of the work.

The thing is, these are not just reggae or «reggae-squared» reworkings of older material — these are atmospheric and, at the same time, technically impressive variations, with more creativity and diversity in­volved here than on any previously released Bad Brains record. This creativity does not always make sense; the reggae rhythmics occasionally gets tiresome for those who have not been particularly graced by Jah; and, clearly, this has nothing to do either with H.R.'s personal ae­sthetics or the hard rock pedigree of Bad Brains with which we associate the band. But are these really flaws? Just look at this:

— ʽJah Loveʼ eschews guitar heroics in favor of a jazzy horn section, playing big, but mournful brass riffs over minimalistic echoey backing; the brass parts return later several times, most no­tably on ʽI & I Surviveʼ where they mimick H.R.'s vocals (to much stronger effect than the origi­nal, I must say);

— ʽOverdubʼ is carried by a mildly ominous bassline, over which Darryl Jennifer dubs lamenting melodica parts, and Dr. Know throws in some electric organ flourishes for extra effect; the whole thing feels like a short walk through uncharted, slightly dangerous and unpredictable, jungle;

— ʽHow Low Can A Punk Getʼ finally introduces heavy riffage and arpeggiated metallic soloing which then goes away, replaced by a trip-hop section with more horns and strange electronic hoots with even more of that odd «nighttime» atmosphere;

— ʽCowboyʼ features a quirky ska arrangement where bass, guitars, organs, and chimes weave pretty tiny rings around each other (sometimes even an occasional mandolin breaks through and tries to turn the whole thing into a Spanish folk song, then fails, excuses itself and goes to the bathroom) for a rather mysterious, humble, and quiet four minutes...

...and so on, right down to ʽRagga Dubʼ whose title hints at an Indian synthesis, and that is exact­ly what it is. As weird as this thought seems on paper, Dr. Know seems to have selected this al­bum, and no other, to test out all the ideas that he had been storing in his head for over a decade, without daring to let them out on Bad Brains' «regular» albums. By the time we come to the se­cond half of the record, some of these ideas start repeating themselves (for instance, ʽSeptemberʼ adds relatively little to ʽGhettoʼ), but in light of the band's usual fuck-diversity attitude, this does not even begin to feel like a problem.

The regular problem with reggae, like blues, is that it «all sounds the same», but once you start thinking of blues and reggae basics as simply a formulaic foundation (after all, there are no limits to architectural variation, even if most of the buildings are based on the same skeletal principles), this problem can be easily annihilated — and with all the electronic tinkering, horns sections, ex­perimental basslines, and fifty different modes of guitar playing, I & I Survived is... if not exact­ly a «masterpiece», at least a very pleasant surprise from these guys, despite not kicking the usual (wrinkled) ass and not serving as a polygon for H.R.'s (pathetic) madness. Thumbs up — these particular Bad Brains seem quite good to my tastes.

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Bad Brains: God Of Love

BAD BRAINS: GOD OF LOVE (1995)

1) Cool Mountaineer; 2) Justice Keepers; 3) Long Time; 4) Rights Of A Child; 5) God Of Love; 6) Overs The Water; 7) Tongue Tee Tie; 8) Darling I Need You; 9) To The Heavens; 10) Thank Jah; 11) Big Fun; 12) How I Love Thee.

Good news: H.R. is back (again), giving the band a chance to remind us of why we ever bothered reserving a separate line for them in the first place. Bad news: what good is being given a chance if you are completely disinterested in taking it?

In a way, actually, this is even worse than Rise. That album may have been generic and negli­gible, of marginal interest for meticulous thrash collectors, at best, but at least it was consistent: «Israel Joseph I» was willing to adapt to whatever Dr. Know was playing, and if they did not succeed in too well in tapping into one's emotions, at least they tried. But with H.R. back in the band, it seems as if the two main participants pay as little attention to each other as possible. The guitar player is still punching out second- and third-hand metal riffs — and the singer is whining or barking against them in an ugly nasal manner that does not agree with the style at all.

The result is a lengthy string of songs that lack any sort of purpose. There are good and bad al­bums out there, tasteful or corny, innovative or formulaic, catchy or unmemorable, but records like these, in a way, are the worst of the lot because I honestly cannot figure out why they exist at all. To keep up conveying H.R.'s personal take on the Rasta stuff? But how does this personal take agree with the all-too familiar power chords and metal arpeggios from Dr. Know's fingers? To kick ass? But how do you properly kick ass with such a mentally unstable guy at the wheel? To prove that Jah loves metal no less than he loves reggae? But they already did that on I Against I, and it must have been obvious to everybody except for the most obstinate ones that it only got less and less and less convincing from then on. It is not simply a dead horse they are flogging here — it is a horse in the last stages of decomposing.

Not a single interesting riff, not a single melody worth remembering or discussing, not a single moment of being «impressed». Out of sheer curiosity, you might try the opener, ʽCool Moun­taineerʼ — it is quite typical of the entire album: a roaring mid-tempo mess of power chords, auto-piloted «ecstatic» solos, and a misplaced H.R. gleefully cackling some nonsense about how "like a bird in the tree, Cool Mountaineers shall be free". If you find something in there that I have not been able to, more power to you — not that I was trying real hard, but then again, it is supposed to be somewhat of a quid-pro-quo process, and there was no initial act of giving. Nary a tiny hint that someday, someway, ʽCool Mountaineerʼ might turn out to have something of value.

The reggae numbers are back with a vengeance, too, no less than three or four of them, and even if reggae, unlike metal, is the motherland for Bad Brains, they are hardly working its fields pro­perly — at best, Dr. Know is having himself some «fun» with various electronic effects (ʽTo The Heavensʼ), and at worst, it he is not doing anything at all (ʽOver The Waterʼ, generally unlistena­ble as H.R. is practicing his vibrato — regular nasal whine is bad enough, but vibrating nasal whine is a Nazi-worthy device).

And it is all wrapped up with ʽHow I Love Theeʼ, which is not even as much reggae as it is a combination of sterile modern R&B and adult contemporary — the band tries to end things on a tenderly sentimental note, and you can rather safely predict that it will be just as bad as every­thing else, and maybe worse, because «sentimentality» is one thing that could never be associated with Bad Brains when they were at their peak.

As is usual for this stage in their career, the personal and communal life of Bad Brains at this jun­cture was far more exciting than their musical development — the laziness and ineffectiveness of these songs rather surprisingly contrasts with H.R.'s ongoing erratic behavior, including fights with skinheads, security guards, and managers while touring, and eventually, getting kicked out of the band once again. Might make for some exciting reading if you're into tabloid stuff — but it has nothing to do with the disgusted thumbs down awarded to the accompanying pablum.

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Bad Brains: Rise

BAD BRAINS: RISE (1993)

1) Rise; 2) Miss Freedom; 3) Unidentified; 4) Love Is The Answer; 5) Free; 6) Hair; 7) Coming In Numbers; 8) Yes Jah; 9) Take Your Time; 10) Peace Of Mind; 11) Without You/Outro.

No, no, and no. I am nowhere near H.R.'s biggest fan — his hypnotic powers were never matched by sufficient singing or «voice acting» ability, as far as I am concerned — but I do acknowledge that there is a unique Bad Brains vibe, and that vibe consists of H.R. vs. Dr. Know much the same way as the Rolling Stones vibe consists of Jagger vs. Richards. A Bad Brains without H.R.? It would take a proper Jah miracle to make it work.

The new vocals guy, called «Israel Joseph I», if you can really believe it, is not a bad singer — in fact, he seems to have a stronger, tougher, more disciplined set of pipes than H.R. — but that is just the problem. Rise simply has too much discipline. It is a professionally constructed mix of about 15% hardcore, 15% grunge, and 70% mid-tempo thrash metal, with a couple reggae tunes thrown in for good measure — and in between all the calculations, they seem to have completely lost the emotional aspect. Of course, it had already started on Quickness, but even that album had a few songs that did not seem written merely for the sake of keeping themselves busy.

I have nothing to say about these songs. Much emphasis is placed on crunchy brutality — Dr. Know's guitar tones and Israel's snarls are more often in the «evil» department than elsewhere, but it is never convincing: the riffs are highly derivative and uninspired, and the vocals are way too theatrical. Maybe it would help to be able to evaluate the record completely outside of its context — as it is, one cannot help but inevitably compare the «thinner», but genuinely insane vocalizations of H.R. with the «fully-in-control» attitude of this guy. They simply belong in dif­ferent worlds (think a Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd with Syd Barrett replaced by Alan Parsons, or any other such analogy).

The last track is particularly surprising — ʽWithout Youʼ is a funky, but intentionally sentimental ballad, the clo­sest they had ever come to a properly «sell-out» track thus far. It neither lies in solid Bad Brains territory, nor is it in any way a good track: and who were they willing to fool with a goddamn love song? You do not shed tears to Bad Brains material — might just as well start expecting a symph-rock suite from the likes of AC/DC.

Yes, Dr. Know and his cronies (including drummer Mackie Jayson, now as a full-term member) are professionals, and this means there will always be people thinking that there is no such thing as a Good Brains (= «bad Bad Brains») album, and if you really want to, you can headbang along to some of these songs quite nicely — ʽUnidentifiedʼ is fast as hell, and ʽTake Your Timeʼ grinds and howls with all the mercilessness (if none of the charm) of an Alice In Chains track. But why would you want to, when the world has so much more, and so much better, in store for you? Trust the critics on this one — it holds no revelations or epiphanies, other than the revelation that some­one can live with a name like «Israel Joseph I». Thumbs down.

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Bad Brains: The Youth Are Getting Restless

BAD BRAINS: THE YOUTH ARE GETTING RESTLESS (1990)

1) I; 2) Rock For Light; 3) Right Brigade; 4) House Of Suffering; 5) Day Tripper / She's A Rainbow; 6) Coptic Times; 7) Sacred Love; 8) Re-Ignition; 9) Let Me Help; 10) The Youth Are Getting Restless; 11) Banned In D.C.; 12) Sailin' On; 13) Fearless Vam­pire Killer; 14) At The Movies; 15) Revolution (dub); 16) Pay To Cum; 17) Big Takeover.

A good setlist can work wonders. This is not brand new stuff — the recordings were taken from the same support tour for I Against I that gave us the Live album (recorded just a wee bit earlier), so it could formally qualify for «archival» status, except in this case, it worked more like a stop­gap while the band was busy sorting it out with H.R. — eventually replacing him with Chuck Mosley from Faith No More. Hilariously, the «stopgap» turned out to be far better than the origi­nal official live album, though...

...for an obvious reason — the setlist here is more intentionally targeted at the band's punk legacy than the metal one. Only three out of seventeen songs are from I Against I. The rest generally stem from their two first and best studio albums, which means speed, excitement, and, overall, a better application of their crunch than the slow, lumbering, and generally wasted metal riffage on that album. Furthermore, the recording quality at that particular show at the Paradiso Theater in Amsterdam was well on the level, and so was the inspiration.

Obscurities include the title track — a reggae number that did not make it on any studio album and is well worth knowing, mainly because of its clever integration of a smooth funky bassline into the general reggae structure, so that you never really know what it is you are listening to; and the unexpected synthesis of Beatles and Stones — a reggaeified medley sewn together from bits of ʽDay Tripperʼ and ʽShe's A Rainbowʼ, with additional lyrics from H.R. By all accounts, this is a novelty number, but the very fact of making a reggae medley of a Beatles and a Stones song counts as a novelty number that may just as well turn out to be unforgettable — even if, ultimate­ly, you just find it a stupid idea.

And overall, since we do have fabulous live versions of ʽRock For Lightʼ and ʽBanned In D.C.ʼ this time around, The Youth Are Getting Restless, with its high production quality and energy levels, may be a pretty damn good introduction to the band. What else is there to say? Absolutely nothing, so a fast, but firm thumbs up to it and let us move along.

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Bad Brains: Quickness

BAD BRAINS: QUICKNESS (1989)

1) Soul Craft; 2) Voyage Into Infinity; 3) The Messengers; 4) With The Quickness; 5) Gene Machine/Don't Bother Me; 6) Don't Blow Bubbles; 7) Sheba; 8) Yout' Juice; 9) No Conditions; 10) Silent Tears; 11) The Prophet's Eye; 12) Endtro.

What we have here is a rather blatantly obvious sequel to I Against I. Recorded in a rather fussy manner: H.R. quit the band in 1986, then returned already after their next recording had been completed — with the band so happy about it that they agreed to erase the vocals by Taj Single­ton (who filled in for H.R. on their 1988 tour) and redo it all over again. By this time, though, H.R. seems to have completely gone off his rocker, so much so that the lyrics on Quickness keep veering somewhere in between Rastafarianism, Pastafarianism, Satanism, and plain old schizo­phasia — and the vocals mostly comply.

All of which actually gives the record a certain unique flavor — I mean, it may be politically in­correct (even for the time) to blame the spread of AIDS on gay people, imploring them to "ask Jah and he'll make the change" (ʽDon't Blow Bubblesʼ), but at least it is less boring than having to sit through just another bit of generic Rasta preaching. And, in general, having H.R. play the «holy fool», with syntactically disconnected splinters of phrases covered in smoke, spit, Spi­rit, and, most importantly, tons and tons of spite, is quite an experience.

Unfortunately, all of it is completely wasted on a set of songs that make even less sense than the ones on I Against I. Just as before, these are «metal punk» melodies, too slow and too complex in structure to satisfy the demands for good punk, yet too deformed and too loose to constitute good metal. At least ʽSacred Loveʼ and ʽShe's Calling Youʼ, much as I dislike their «vibe», had some basic melodic impact. On Quickness, the riffs cease to make any sense whatsoever: loud, somewhat math-rockish (but way too noisy and poorly mixed to impress with any sort of preci­sion or head-spinning chord changes), and thoroughly unmemorable.

Even worse, it seems as if every second song or so has the exact same riff patern on repeat — at the very least, ʽVoyage Into Infinityʼ and ʽGene Machineʼ are definitely the same song, happily chug-chug-chug-chugging away like nobody would mind. Sometimes it gets faster, sometimes it gets slower, but in the end, it's all the same — this is an album written on complete autopilot, and a thorough waste of Dr. Know's talents (and at this time, it is beginning to be permissible to actu­ally start doubting that there was any talent in the first place — at the very least, not in the song­writing department, that is for sure).

The «slower metal / faster metal» formula is betrayed only once, when at the very end the band unexpectedly returns to explore its reggae roots with ʽThe Prophet's Eyeʼ — reflecting H.R.'s state-of-the-art dementia this time, the song sounds more like a parody on what they used to do than anything genuinely serious. As disappointing as the rest of the record.

Technical note: although Earl Hudson is officially credited for percussion work, the real drum­ming here belonged to session player Mackie Jayson. Not that this changes anything: the best drummer in the world could not save this utterly uninspired puddle of muddle. Of course, if you experience uncontrollable spasms of joy at any random thrash riff addressing you from your spea­kers — Quickness is highly recommendable. But honestly, I'd rather just get me some Slayer in­stead: I am honestly not interested in trying to metabolize this fodder into efficient vitamins for the body and the soul, even with the help of H.R.'s eccentric behavior. Thumbs down.

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Bad Brains: Live

BAD BRAINS: LIVE (1988)

1) I; 2) At The Movies; 3) The Regulator; 4) Right Brigade; 5) I Against I; 6) I And I Survive; 7) House Of Suffering; 8) Re-Igniti­on; 9) Sacred Love; 10) She's Calling You; 11) Coptic Times; 12) F.V.K.; 13) Secret 77.

Since the studio sessions for Bad Brains were never really carried out in the Sgt. Pepper vein, the differences between Bad Brains in the studio and Bad Brains onstage are in the cosmetic sphere. The only significant point is the status of H.R. — onstage, he tends to get a bit further off his rocker, leering, grinning, screeching, and, overall, putting on more of an Exorcism Show than when recording without an actual audience. Whether this is good or bad is up to you to decide — personally, I grow tired of this monkeying around rather quickly. It is one thing to watch the guy — com­plete with full body vibration and his trademark back-flips — and another thing to listen without seeing (a similar dissatisfaction concerns, e.g., Mick Jagger in his «less harmony, more bark» period, when hitting the notes took a backseat to hitting the stage). Oh well, at least the vocals for ʽSacred Loveʼ are no longer recorded over the telephone.

Recorded at various dates played in 1987-88, Live predictably focuses on material from I Aga­inst I (six out of nine songs are faithfully reproduced), occasionally diversifying it with older stuff — to a rather faint effect, since the «oldies» are naturally much shorter on the average, and some of the choices, or, rather, some of the omissions are sort of odd. For instance, there is only one reggae number altogether — ʽI And I Surviveʼ, although, in generous compensation, it is sli­ghtly extended — and neither ʽRock For Lightʼ nor ʽBanned In D.C.ʼ are played (or seen fit for inclusion on the album, at least), despite being some of the more highly «marked» tunes from the old days of blazing hardcore. Maybe it is just a coincidence, but, overall, Live does not convey the impression that the band actually cares for its established image of «speed-punk pioneers do­ing it in the name of Jah» — that they are much happier now with their punk-metal fusion. Who could tell back then, in 1987, that the speed-punk pioneering would stay forever young, and the punk-metal fusion would quickly go senile?

If it helps any, the sound quality is pretty damn good — now you get to hear ʽThe Regulatorʼ and ʽAt The Moviesʼ in all their raging glory without all the (in)glorious lo-fi in yer face, and H.R. is mixed in well above the guitar roar, so that you can properly assess the degree of his irreplaceabi­lity in the band. And it's all strictly business: no stage banter, no lengthy pauses between songs, no cheaply directed audience interaction — fourty minutes of non-stop headbanging. (Some later CD editions are further extended by including a cover of the Beatles' ʽDay Tripperʼ, which is nice — an unexpected surprise never hurts on an album like this).

Overall, though, recommended only for, and by, major fans of the band, such as the reviewer at the All-Music Guide who had no qualms about calling Bad Brains «the greatest live rock & roll band» (really? isn't that taking liberal guilt a bit too far?) and warning us to «watch out for flies and swirling debris while your mouth is hanging open for a half hour». (For the record, his name was «Jack Rabid», and it looked fairly appropriate for the occasion.) As for myself, I cannot deny the energy and passion, but these are still mediocre songs, and a mediocre song delivered with redhot passion only makes me feel sorry about the ultimate waste of redhot passion.

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Bad Brains: I Against I

BAD BRAINS: I AGAINST I (1986)

1) Intro; 2) I Against I; 3) House Of Suffering; 4) Re-Ignition; 5) Secret 77; 6) Let Me Help; 7) She's Calling You; 8) Sacred Love; 9) Hired Gun; 10) Return To Heaven.

While it may be a good thing that Bad Brains' second «properly» recorded album does not have it in mind to repeat the formula of Rock For Light — after all, the best hardcore bands are those with just one hardcore album, «THAT» album — I absolutely fail to see the reasons why this fol­low-up gets its near-immaculate critical reputation. It was the band's best-selling album, for sure, but this is hardly a point worth noting when one is, essentially, dealing with a cult underground act for which a few thousand sold copies is already an «achievement». Must be the lyrical im­pact, as usual — Rastafari lyrics are always in high demand on the critical market.

The speed, with a couple exceptions, is gone, and with it, the one reason to keep a Bad Brains al­bum going regardless of individual song quality. In its place, the band introduces relative diver­sity — as long as the guitar tones remain dark and crunchy, they can play «slow tempo punk», heavy metal, or funkified post-New Wave rock, with the minimum goal of not boring their liste­ner to death and the maximum goal of achieving some sort of synthesis between all these things and their jazz-fusion pedigree. Sounds good, doesn't it?

Problem is, I Against I is still boring, and the synthesis does not produce decent results. For in­stance, the chief metal inspiration for the band does not seem to be either the old school Sabbath or the new school Metallica — some of this stuff sounds dangerously close to the inoffensive, pop-oriented «hair metal» schlock o' the day. ʽSacred Loveʼ, with its Rambo-style power chords and syncopated echoey riffage, epitomizes pseudo-toughness, and H.R.'s megaphone-processed vocals lose any sort of mystery they could have possessed against this stiff background. ʽShe's Calling Youʼ could just as well have been recorded for Alice Cooper's Constrictor from the same year (except that Alice's stuff was at least catchy, whereas this song has no vocal hooks whatsoever, and its chief melodic guitar riff is hopelessly damaged by the «muscular» effects on the recording). And ʽHouse Of Sufferingʼ is notable only for making a reference to «Jah love» within the frames of a song that, melodically, owes much more to Sabbath's ʽSymptom Of The Universeʼ than to anything ever associated with Bob Marley. And it is pretty fast, for once.

The album's more traditionally oriented punk material (ʽLet Me Helpʼ) rolls along on autopilot, and the «funky» stuff (ʽSecret 77ʼ, ʽHired Gunʼ) is sheer atmosphere. At this point, in fact, H.R. seems to be the only band member who is genuinely excited about what they are doing — his street poetry is intended for rabble-rousing, and his psychologically thought-out choruses ("hired gun / he's on the run / better watch out, boy / cause he don't know fun") certainly have their ap­peal for those in the know. But if you have trouble with your English, or if you have trouble ac­cepting this stuff as something that goes beyond «trite», I have no idea whatsoever what it is about I Against I that should be supposed to make it a good album, let alone a «classic».

Because this time around, it is impossible to just applaud the results as a «megablast of energy with a strong social undercurrent» or something like that. That «megablast», for Bad Brains, was Rock For Light (or the eponymous album if you prefer your megablasts with a wallop of shitty production on the side). This stuff aspires to something beyond kicking the old, wrinkled, but still durable ass of the Establishment: it obviously has some «pure» musical ambitions as well — but all I can hear is a bunch of dudes learning to succeed in the fields of New Wave and heavy metal, and failing in the attempt. This ain't nowhere near the Cure if you want intellectual, meticulously «researched» musical textures, and it ain't nowhere near Metallica if you want headbanging crunch. Thumbs down — try it out if you really want to, but don't buy the hype.

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Bad Brains: Rock For Light

BAD BRAINS: ROCK FOR LIGHT (1983)

1) Coptic Times; 2) Attitude; 3) We Will Not; 4) Sailin' On; 5) Rally 'Round Jah Throne; 6) Right Brigade; 7) F.V.K.; 8) Riot Squad; 9) The Meek Shall Inherit The Earth; 10) Joshua's Song; 11) Banned In D.C.; 12) How Low Can A Punk Get; 13) Big Takeover; 14) I And I Survive; 15) Destroy Babylon; 16) Rock For Light; 17) At The Movies.

This is basically a «do-it-right-this-time» upgrade of Bad Brains. Same line-up, same style, same ideology, same technique, even a bunch of the same songs — but this time, recorded in a proper studio, released on a proper label (PVC), and produced by a guy with credentials, namely, Ric Ocasek of The Cars... Ric Ocasek???!!! ...but no, no worries, Rock For Light sounds nothing like The Cars — there isn't a synthesizer anywhere in sight, and the only rudiments of «pop hooks» are occasional melodic patterns in Dr. Know's riffs which were there all along, you just couldn't hear them too well.

Actually, if there is any substantial improvement, it mostly concerns the reggae numbers. Not co­incidentally, perhaps, none of the reggae tunes from Bad Brains were chosen to be re-recorded — instead, they wrote some new ones, tighter, more focused, and more catchy than the old ones. Reggae really only amounts to something bigger than local hoodlum ganja fun when it starts hun­ting for that Old Testament spirit, becoming downright uplifting for some and downright scary for others. And ʽThe Meek Shall Inherit The Earthʼ, for instance, definitely has a particle of that spirit (along with some powerhouse percussion work) — H.R. sings the lyrics, for once, instead of barking or growling, and the band's beliefs and convictions come forth as credible (even if the Rastafari religion as such seems like a bunch of baloney to you — heck, it probably is baloney, but if it makes these guys' lives happier, let 'em have it, "in the way of our lord JAH!").

As for the speedy punk songs, they continue to be properly undescribable — now that the pro­duction is so much clearer, we should simply enjoy them the way they are: disjointed quanta of one big whole, brief punk blasts whose main attraction lies in their being sped up to ridiculous tempos. Play this any slower and it will be quite boring, even with the technical skills of the band members — it is not as if Dr. Know is delivering any amazing, hitherto unknown chord se­quences... actually, except when he is off to churn out one more finger-flashing solo, he is not even playing it too fast: the main punch is delivered by the rhythm section.

H.R.'s ecstatic sneer on the fast punk numbers tends to be overrated by reviewers, maybe for exo­tic reasons — after all, you do not usually see this sort of style from black vocalists — but I really prefer what he is doing on the reggae rather than the hardcore numbers, where the tone is just a tad too hysterical to properly match the instrumental crunch. As for the Rastafari influence on the lyrics of ʽCoptic Timesʼ, ʽJoshua's Songʼ, and others, it is certainly novel, but it would be more fun to somehow manage to see a musical combination of reggae and hardcore rather than a lyrical one, and of that, the band is not capable (not that anybody could blame them — «hardcore reggae» is sort of an oxymoron, since combining pot with speed is usually not recommendable).

Overall, the only two reasons I still go with a thumbs up here are (a) the improved reggae num­bers and (b) the improved production — both of which sort of permit Rock For Light to count as a successful update of the Bad Brains sound for the audiophile. However, a second (third?) al­bum with the same sound and style would have been untenable — Bad Brains would end up mu­tating into somebody like Agnostic Front. To their credit, the band realized that: we may debate whether their subsequent changes were amazing or disappointing, but regardless, it is actually a good thing that they only made one Rock For Light, without dissipating its legend over the course of a thousand faceless clones.

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Bad Brains: Bad Brains

BAD BRAINS: BAD BRAINS (1982)

1) Sailin' On; 2) Don't Need It; 3) Attitude; 4) The Regulator; 5) Banned In D.C.; 6) Jah Calling; 7) Supertouch/Shitfit; 8) Leaving Babylon; 9) F.V.K.; 10) I; 11) Big Take Over; 12) Pay To Cum; 13) Right Brigade; 14) I Luv I Jah; 15) Intro.

So, as it turns out, «hardcore» is yet another genre that white suckers shamelessly stole from their black brethren — or did they? Bad Brains' debut came out in crappy cassette form in 1982, much later than the first LPs by the Dead Kennedys, the Angry Samoans, the Circle Jerks, whatever, but the band began playing their stuff as early as 1977, and at that time, did it faster than any imaginable competition — their advantage being that they actually began life as a jazz-fusion ensemble circa 1975, converting to the loud, the rough, and the obscene two years later under the influence of the newly-emerged «slow» punk scene.

This unusual status — a formerly «intellectualized genre» combo switching to hardcore, and an all-black one at that — impressed the band's peers and fans so much that every once in a while someone will acknowledge Bad Brains as the best hardcore band of all time, or Bad Brains (the album) as their favorite album of all time (actually, the CD reissues all come with an endorse­ment from the Beastie Boys who do just that). But beyond the race, pedigree, and who-did-what-first issues, I really have very few clues as to what should be the standards to judge «hardcore». Cat­chiness? Ridiculous. Speed? What do you want me to do, hold a speedometer? Technique? At those speeds, it takes really special ears to measure the subtleties. Social relevance? You play it like that, you are socially relevant by definition even if you only sing about having gay sex. (Ac­tually, you reach the peak of social relevance if you sing about having gay sex, but that is sort of a different story).

In any case, Bad Brains do have some specificity beyond all that. All four members — H.R. on vocals, Darryl Jenifer on bass, Earl Hudson on drums, and the de-facto band leader Dr. Know on guitar — are open Rastafaris, and like every respectable late 1970s act, their major passion, be­sides speedy punk runs, is classic reggae à la Bob Marley; hence, the odd wonder of this album is that every now and then, in between the brief one-two-minute slash races, they bring the process to a state of chilled-out relaxation with a longer, and utterly un-ironic, reggae groove (and the grooves actually get longer and longer as time goes by — first one is 2:31, second one is 4:10, third one is 6:23 — and you can probably guess which ones are the reggae ones quite easily by scrutinizing the titles without listening).

The band's background is best seen on some of the instrumental passages — for instance, the intro to ʽDon't Need Itʼ, where Dr. Know lets rip with a swirling «jazz-metal» pattern rather than the usual chainsaw; later on, right after the solo, there is also a bit of idea exchange between the drums and the guitars that they must have incorporated from their «artsy» past. H.R.'s «spoken-spluttered» parts are generally much less impressive, although his nasal-wheezy-sneery tone could be a refreshing alternative to the typical «growl» or «bark» of the average hardcore punk­ster — but they aren't powerful enough to match the volume and intensity of the instrumentalists, and thus, detract from the music rather than add to it.

As could be expected, the quality of the original recording is abysmal: calling this stuff «lo-fi» would be dishonoring the lo-fi genre. Victim # 1 is Darryl Jenifer, whose basslines are actually just as nifty as and sometimes niftier than Dr. Know's riffs, but for the most part, they are «felt» rather than «heard» (except for the reggae parts, where he is saved by all the syncopation, but that is also when he is at his least interesting). Yet the guitar lines, too, could have benefited from a cleaner mix — after all, if you are going to surprise us by introducing fusion-gained technique into punk aesthetics, this could have been done by means of an album that doesn't sound like it was recorded in somebody's flooded basement with the mikes placed on the roof.

Still, a plan is a plan, I guess: whosoever decides his music should sound like shit, be it in his perfect right to carry out the decision. Personally, I think that thirty-six minutes is a bit of an over­kill for this stuff, as they really say it all in about, well, ten minutes at the max, and then just duplicate it all for no reason. ʽSailin' Onʼ is an impressive intro with a «pop» slant to it (they even try out some cheesy falsetto backing harmonies, without letting the tempo down for a se­cond); ʽDon't Need Itʼ has that non-trivial set of guitar runs that lets you know these guys are ultimately deconstructionists rather than good-for-nothings; ʽThe Regulatorʼ is Jenifer's ideal bass spotlight; ʽBanned In D.C.ʼ is an important autobiographical statement (the band was indeed banned in D.C., their hometown, for a while); ʽJah Callingʼ is the first, shortest, and best of the reggae numbers — an instrumental with the emphasis on Dr. Know's trippy atmospheric playing rather than all the vocal clichés of the genre. After that — whoever did not get enough, there is more of the same for you. 10-15 minutes is quite all right for me, well sufficient to issue out a receptive thumbs up, and then I pretend I just accidentally hit the «repeat» button.

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