1. July 30, 2017, Jane Weaver, Justin Bieber, Starcrawler

This week I’ve been sampling a lot of music. Sampling in the old school sense, that is.

Jane Weaver is a British artist who’s been around in one group or form or whatever for over twenty years. Her recent solo work has become beloved of the psych-folk crowd, the same people I suspect who get giddy over Joanna Newsom, Meg Baird, and whatever. Her new album is World Kosmology. Whoo, there’s a title that any self-respecting punk in 1997 would have called pretentious twaddle. But these are more generous and inclusive times for fans of outsider music. Boris fans may be Margo Price fans may be Kendrick Lamar fans. Weaver combines trippy analog synths, motorik beats (4/4 time, but rigidly mechanical, favored by Krautrockers), chiming electric and strumming acoustic guitars and her own ethereal vocals. It all works because the songwriting is fetching. Give it a chance and it charms. It probably sounds great fucked up on pot, although I haven’t tried that yet.

I hear Justin Bieber has come to Jesus. That is all.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXPhANmnAdM (Starcrawler video - they wouldn't let me download directly. Poo.)

Starcrawler rule. Two minute songs. They sound like the Little Killers to me, but with more Rodney-glam influence. They take songs and verses at chugging punk tempos, throw in Thunders-y solos, then throw down a Black Sabs bridge (half-time, nasal, minor sounding). If they aren’t the greatest thing since the Ramones, maybe they’re the greatest thing since the first Broncho album. Fill in your own superlative. Three guys and a girl, Arrow De Wilde (… noms de rock, just like Poison!), who sings with bored assertion in a voice with indeterminate gender. Free to be you and me. Starcrawler are, on the basis of the two songs I’ve heard - “Ants” and “Used to Know” - the greatest rock ’n’ roll band in the world.

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Wire is having a 40th anniversary. Yes, I feel old.

"Editor's" Note: One Mr. Colin Newman of Brighton observes that it is he who plays most of the keyboards on recordings by Wire. I'm not sure where, or if, I indicated otherwise, but Mr. Newman's contributions (in the studio and to SPEW'S accuracy) are noted. He is certainly an authority on the subject. Wire is celebrating the 40th anniversary of their debut Pink Flag with the release of their fifteenth studio album Silver/Lead. Wire’s first three records, Pink Flag, Chairs Missing, and 154 formed a blueprint for much of what came next in the wake of punk; showing how the drive and anger could be channeled beyond the roar and rage. Wire did, however, share with the Pistols a sense of the absurd. Uncomfortable with the conventions of rock, Wire set about reworking and subverting rock ’n’ roll. From Flag’s short, sharp blitz of songs to the more Kraut-Floyd atmospheres of Chairs Missing, to 154’s dark consolidation of Wire’s elements (immaculately...

Hard workin', hard rockin' - White Mystery, baby!

At the ripe old age of thirty-two, Chi-town's Miss Alex White has been banging out the rock tunes since she was a teenager. I first encountered her in 2005 with the release of her Miss Alex White and the Red Orchestra album. I reviewed it, for the Kansas City Star, I think. I liked it. It was noisy – brash and bruising, but with a marination in soul music that was refreshing for a bratty kid. Her guitar playing was confident, within its limited range. You know, like Johnny Ramone or somebody. She was cool. And as a singer she already hinted at something special. She was raw, and powerful, but with a touch of sweet, sweet soul. In 2008 (or thereabouts) she formed a duo with her younger brother Francis Scott Key White. Using the name of a Fleer bubble gum flavor, White Mystery, the sibling ensemble was launched. Since 2010 they’ve released an album in April of every year. Each one has some good tunes, each one has some klunkers. The sibs tour relentlessly ...

The resurrection of Peter Perrett

Back in the day, one of the little thrills of working at Kief’s (it was a record store, eh) was opening the boxes from an import distributor like Jem and rifling through the fresh forty-fives from the U.K. Having seen a listing for a single by a new group called the Only Ones that sounded appealing, I included it on an order in 1977. Released on the band’s own Vengeance label, it was a curious packaging, a black sleeve with a grainy black and white photo on one side, depicting a band of mismatched misfits, including guitarist John Perry in a form-fitting, less than flattering fishnet onesie. Front and center in the photo, as he was on stage and in the studio, was a young songwriter named Peter Perrett - tousled hair, dour expression, black sleeveless shirt. This is curious, thought I. Quickly “Lovers of Today” went to the turntable for audition. It was one of those moments. Everything about it was perfect. Great intro, a sinister a-part, decorate...

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