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

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(Steven J Wilson)
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 and their records are essentially consecutive souvenirs – merch table fodder, for those who want more after seeing them live, not unlike the way bands in the Sixties cranked out albums every eight months to capitalize on an endless succession of live dates. 

Live, White Mystery is a high energy outfit, flailing with flying ginger hair, thrift store rock star wardrobe, all projected with flair and humor. F.Y. M.S. (uh, Fuck Your Mouth Shut) is 2017's edition of White Mystery, and a final representation of what they are all about. 

 Alex’s guitar sounds are well dialed. She enjoys a crunchy Who-Slade-Mott power chord style or a janglier, sometimes arpeggiated sound closer to a cross between Love and the Searchers-side of the Ramones. She shifts gears between the two often; “Bad Neptune” shows her jangle-pop side, sweet and scruffy; while “F.Y.M.S.” is butt-rock, something akin to what the Runaways might have done if they were given the luxury of being foulmouthed. 
Alex also treads into girl-group territory with “Stand It,” replete with call and response vocals and a “hit me and it felt like a kiss” sort of theme. “Full of Light” is a tuneful garage-rocker that wouldn’t sound out of place on fellow Chicagoan Liz Phair’s Exile on Guyville. So, you get the picture – White Mystery records are grab bags of rock ’n’ roll party favors. 

 This music don’t aim for high art, it’s entertainment, Alex knows how to make the best use of her talents and brother Francis is an explosive, uninhibited drummer. He drops a beat here and there, but never blushes, and comes back thrashing as if to say “I meant to do that.” It’s music to jump about to, music to bang your head to, sweet to - party music for one, two, or a crowd. On F.Y.M.S. , White Mystery isn’t so mysterious. What you see (and hear) is what you get, two kids from Chicago having one fun, wild ass time playing rock ’n’ roll. 
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The people have spoken.

There is a town in Arkansas called Elaine.

(Steven J Wilson)
Elaine, Arkansas is in Phillips County, one of the poorest counties in the United States, a flat expanse of deprivation where your Google Maps won’t keep you from getting lost. Elaine is lost. It looks like a place where nothing good has happened in a very long time.  That's, at least in part, because something terrible happened there. Something a majority of Americans don't know about.  I'm educated as a historian, but I lack the imprimatur of an advanced degree. I will do my best to offer a concise history lesson.  The facts are straightforward. In order to escape destitution and indentured servitude, black sharecroppers in the Arkansas delta organized under the banner of the Progressive Farmers and Household Union of America. On the 30th of September 1919, a prominent, white attorney named Ulysses Bratton traveled the three hours from Little Rock to meet with the workers to discuss strategy. They met at a small church on the outskirts of Elaine at a place c...
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Robert Pollard and Richard Davies were COSMOS. At least in 2009. I like to keep up to date.

(Steven J Wilson)
I’ve been such a good lad. Writing almost like a responsible journalist. That’s not a bad thing, but I promised myself (and you) that SPEW would be a place for more dashed off bits.   Well, here’s one.   Cosmos. Ever heard of them? Unless you’re a Robert Pollard completist, probably not. Their sole release, Jar of Jam Ton of Bricks was released in 2009 (one of Pollard’s 100+ issues, only about a 1/4 of which are Guided by Voices titles). Cosmos was a collaboration with Richard Davies, Australian pop oddball and auteur behind the cult faves the Moles. The two of them share a certain aesthetic, a vision that embraces early John Cale, the first two Brian Eno records, Pete Townshend’s Scoop demos, bits and pieces of the Beatles, and a dash of early Syd Barrett.   Some of the songs on J ar of Jam are based on little more than acoustic guitar and percussion, especially woodblock, others are full band janglers. Because of the duo’s shared sensibility it all hangs...
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Jessica Lea Mayfield's unapologetic "Sorry is Gone"

(Steven J Wilson)
Jessica Lea Mayfield, of Kent, Ohio, released her first album With Blasphemy so Heartfelt ( produced by Dan Auerbach, fellow Ohioan) at the tender age of nineteen. I missed it. I probably shouldn’t have.   Her second Auerbach (Black Keys) produced record Tell Me arrived in 2011 when she was 22, 23 maybe. I listened to it. I heard talent. But somehow the combination of songs, performance and production didn’t really hook me.   Never bothered with her alleged grunge-rock record, the two previous had been loosely in the roots-rock/Americana idiom, called Make My Head Sing . No Dan Auerbach. I don’t know who produced it, but Mayfield described it loosely as dedicated to one of her favorite artists, Dave Grohl. Not being a huge fan of the Zelig of contemporary rock, that dedication probably soured me on the project. Sorry. For me and Jessica it was a matter of timing. The time is now. And the record is Sorry is Gone. Which is pretty great.   Mayfield and pr...
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