#3
A Punch of Salt
Although John Cale’s time in the Velvets was not phenomenally long-lived, his name will forever be tacked onto that revolutionary rock outfit. The majority of people will only become aware of him via such gems as their & Nico debut album, or the classic White Light/ White Heat LP. It is a badge he wears with pride, presumably, although you wonder how peeved he is that it might have overshadowed his own fantastic solo work.
Perhaps not too peeved. John Cale has always been a splendid contradiction, recording more or less the type of music he wants to without chasing the trends of any decade. During the late seventies at the height of punk, Cale returned to rock music, and went touring with his band recording angry songs against the Vietnam war and the social decay of the time. He also joined in with the on stage anarchy and mayhem, allegedly hacking a chicken to death during one evening and joined Patti Smith for several dates as well, of course.
This album, partly live, captures the rock songs he recorded during this period. Since they are Cale’s own works, they are more sophisticated than the sloppy three-chord punk from many bands, and err more on the side of prog rock, with occasional poppy flourishes peaking through. Cale famously spent most of the seventies in the company of such men as Brian Eno and Phil Manzenera, and worked on crafting pop gems and classical songs, the fruits of his labours perhaps best captured in the The Island Years double disc set or the Paris 1919 LP.
These tunes still pounce and throb with power today, and he has a superb bunch of young punk guitarists playing with him, who join in with his rip-roaring solos. It is these which make this album a success and one of his strongest artistic statements as far as rock music is concerned. The set starts off with explosive rock tracks, before settling into a dark and progressive middle half, then ultimately is brought down to earth with a sane conclusion, Cale not completely surrendering himself to reckless abandon, pushing forty around this time.
Tacked onto the original album is the Animal Justice EP, which contains some quirky rock songs, and drags the album off into a long series of more convoluted and indulgent pieces that bring the release down somewhat, especially the gothic closer Rosegarden Funeral of Sores (later covered by Bauhaus).
The majority of tracks here, however, are hugely impressive, and this is the only real album of rock Cale ever recorded, and as close to the brutal assault of White Light/ White Heat as he ever really pulled off himself. I would recommend this to all those who want to hear Cale rocking his hardest, something he rarely did on his albums, or a record which almost matches the power of Lou Reed’s Rock N Roll Animal live disc.
The songs were recorded at the legendary punk venue CBGB’s in New York, in case more authenticity were needed that this is full-on stuff. The stage was decorated with a television screen showing some unpleasant explosions behind the gig. Cale was also made out in a hard hat and camouflage gear which hammered the message home.
Perhaps not too peeved. John Cale has always been a splendid contradiction, recording more or less the type of music he wants to without chasing the trends of any decade. During the late seventies at the height of punk, Cale returned to rock music, and went touring with his band recording angry songs against the Vietnam war and the social decay of the time. He also joined in with the on stage anarchy and mayhem, allegedly hacking a chicken to death during one evening and joined Patti Smith for several dates as well, of course.This album, partly live, captures the rock songs he recorded during this period. Since they are Cale’s own works, they are more sophisticated than the sloppy three-chord punk from many bands, and err more on the side of prog rock, with occasional poppy flourishes peaking through. Cale famously spent most of the seventies in the company of such men as Brian Eno and Phil Manzenera, and worked on crafting pop gems and classical songs, the fruits of his labours perhaps best captured in the The Island Years double disc set or the Paris 1919 LP.
These tunes still pounce and throb with power today, and he has a superb bunch of young punk guitarists playing with him, who join in with his rip-roaring solos. It is these which make this album a success and one of his strongest artistic statements as far as rock music is concerned. The set starts off with explosive rock tracks, before settling into a dark and progressive middle half, then ultimately is brought down to earth with a sane conclusion, Cale not completely surrendering himself to reckless abandon, pushing forty around this time.
Tacked onto the original album is the Animal Justice EP, which contains some quirky rock songs, and drags the album off into a long series of more convoluted and indulgent pieces that bring the release down somewhat, especially the gothic closer Rosegarden Funeral of Sores (later covered by Bauhaus).
The majority of tracks here, however, are hugely impressive, and this is the only real album of rock Cale ever recorded, and as close to the brutal assault of White Light/ White Heat as he ever really pulled off himself. I would recommend this to all those who want to hear Cale rocking his hardest, something he rarely did on his albums, or a record which almost matches the power of Lou Reed’s Rock N Roll Animal live disc.
The songs were recorded at the legendary punk venue CBGB’s in New York, in case more authenticity were needed that this is full-on stuff. The stage was decorated with a television screen showing some unpleasant explosions behind the gig. Cale was also made out in a hard hat and camouflage gear which hammered the message home.
1. Mercenaries (Ready For War) (7:54)
Gentle rumbling from the crowd begins this blistering opener. The brutal bass line throbs, establishing the song’s militaristic beat. Cale kicks proceedings off in style with his opening rant: "Mercenaries are useless! Disunited, unfaithful. They have nothing more to keep them in a battle, other than a meagre wage, which is just enough to make them want to kill for you, but not enough to make them want to die for you!"
His original Welsh accent still trickles through here, with a much more American tinge, then the guitars and drums blast in noisily with the first of the many screeching and strangled solos. "I’m just another solider boy! Looking for work, looking for war!"
Cale begins while the guitars jangle to the sneering lyrics. The whole song emanates the punk swagger of the time, with enough reckless tinges to convey anger and enough sarcastic humour to please the crowds. The most appealing moments of this song are the truly thrilling solos between each verse which set the fret board ablaze.
Marc Aaron is on lead guitar here and provides many of these fine moments but Cale is no slouch on guitar either. A modulation in the fourth minute keeps the song blazing and full of fury, and the playing here is nothing short of awe-inspiring and probably put many aspiring punk bands to shame. Lyrically, Cale seems to be attacking the gung-ho attitude of western troops in search for war, captured with the sentiment: "Trying to separate me from my money is like separating me from my life!"
The climax of the song keeps the relentless pace going and it is difficult not to be shocked when Cale starts to sing with increasing panic as if a bomb is about to explode. He begins a countdown and ends the refrain with his unique screech, immortalised in the legendary song Guts from one of his early albums: "Five thousand feet and closing… visibility zero!"
George Scott’s bass playing is razor sharp here, and Doug Bowne on drums also keeps things loud and uncompromising. There are a few plonks on the keyboard throughout, played by Joe Bidwell, but his contribution gets lost amid the glorious chaos. The song ends with a wash of feedback, and they somehow make their guitars sound like bombs a few moments after detonation. A quite unbeatable opener.
2. Baby You Know (4:01)
The keyboard is given more reign on this track and it plays the slightly less punky and more synthesised melody, overtaken by the gloriously seventies solo. The assault is less intimidating here, giving the audience some time to catch their breath after the dazzling opener. The keyboard plays more of an integral part in the melody, although the guitar still drives the song forward, along with the drums which are pushed into the back of the mix. Cale falls onto safe lyrical territory with a song about relationship problems, and the pace of the opener is matched when the song leaps into some wonderful guitar solos and a joyous solo on keyboard as well.
The instrumentation does seem raspy and squished in places, but the pace of the song is just as aggressive, in a more subtle way, especially Cale’s repeated cry of: "The more the get you want, the get the more you want!" The crowd’s response afterwards is slightly disappointing but perhaps there were few people in that evening.
3. Evidence (3:32)
The guitars growl and the confident, noisy pace is re-established for this thrusting track. The bass is dangerously unhinged throughout the song and the solos leap in and out of the verses with impunity. Cale enters with: "This is the morning after, the one the night before. Come crawling through your window, come crawling through your door." The final minute of the song is abound with solos, which screech dangerously at the highest notes of the fret board. Lyrically the song is haywire, but the words are slick and cool enough for this type of music, and he doesn’t have to perform spoken-word Dylan Thomas for it to kick ass.
The structures here, although at odds with the less tuneful ethic of punk rock are still impressive. All in all, the songs here are more impressive than the often sloppy melodies of punk, as these are professionals who know how to craft an engaging rock song. One problem with these tracks, however is that they all seem to bow out without a great deal of racket, and this one in particular has a slightly weak ending.
4. Dr. Mudd (3:54)
Perhaps the closest to Cale’s pop influences, this is fiendishly enjoyable song with an indelible hook and some unexpected ‘do-do’ backing from his players. The bass and drums keep the tune’s catchy melody going here, and it almost detracts from Cale’s confrontational lyrics. "What you gonna do, when China drops a bomb on you?" he asks, shot down by the irreverent backing of his snot-nosed band.
The solos are pushed out of the mix here, sounding more tinny and the bass and drums have the overall dominance, along with Cale who is very coherent throughout. This is actually a surprisingly upbeat track, irrespective of its lyrics, which suggest they were maybe on the wrong tack as far as tone is concerned. If the opener made you sit up and take notice, then this would have the opposite effect. As it stands, it is a skewered piece of rock where Cale just can’t shake off his Brian Wilson fixation long enough to make his points.
5. Walkin’ The Dog (4:08)
Written by Rufus Thomas, this propels the album further away from the aggressive territory towards a lighter, catchier and friendly sound. Just as likeable as the previous song this has another fine chorus which is impossible not to enjoy. "Baby’s back, dressed in black, silver buttons all down her back," he sings, accompanied on gang chorus by the rest of his band. Deerfrance, a punkier version of Nico joins in on backing vocals here before her star turn later on.
There’s a splendidly splintered solo towards the end, and the keyboards keep the tune fresh throughout, taking some of the menace from their sound. The bass is just as raspy as in previous songs and the drums are finely in sync, but this is far too cheerful to be filled with the fire-and-brimstone of punk angst. If anything the assault of the album has been diluted by this stage of the album, but it shifts in a darker direction anyway, so these songs are mainly huge fun.
6. Captain Hook (11:27)
"Take it with a pinch of salt," Cale mutters as this song opens. This comment seems to capture the entire feel of this album and their sessions here, and puts everyone’s mind at ease with regards to their intentions. With that cleared up, this song is free to be enjoyed for the mini-masterpiece it is. This is a large piece of arty prog rock, more akin to the lengthy voyages of Tom Verlaine’s Television than the thrust and power of the Pistols.
For all its indulgence and length, this is a hugely impressive centrepiece. The guitars tingle and screech together, creating these grand waterfalls of noise which are as enchanting as they are mysterious. The drums uncertainly thump and the bass puffs like some gentle waves, creating a choppy sound, perhaps supposed to capture the feeling of being lost at sea.
As a piece of musical imagery, this idea is powerful and makes this track something of a classic in Cale’s oeuvre. A very affecting song indeed. The lengthy intro fades at the end of the third minute, and the keyboard slowly plays the funereal melody. This song then becomes a bleak, mid-tempo voyage and Cale takes us into the gorgeous but despairing landscape he has created.
Deerfrance provides backing vocals which are powerful over the coughing bass and dark guitars, sounding more and more distant and out of reach. "I lost my memory today, the day my ship set sail," Cale begins. The track is at its most powerful after the choruses where Cale sings: "I can’t keep living like this no more, can’t you see you’re losing me… again."
The sudden emotional intensity of this song is unexpected, but it is wholly appropriate given the decaying climate of the time, and the uncertainty that dogged people’s lives during the recessions of the late seventies. Bearing that in mind, this is a strong snapshot of the times and still a strong piece by today’s standards. Another lengthy solo moves the song towards its luscious and powerful climax, and the track has an almost hypnotic quality, with its shimmering guitars and increasingly intense harmonies.
"By hook or by crook, I am the captain of this light!" Cale screeches over the polished solos, refined as the band toured with these songs over the years. This, and the other songs began as improvisations, and from that process this masterpiece grew. The true highlight of this album, this receives the rapturous applause it deserves afterwards from the crowd, and makes the album something more than a collection of rock songs from Cale to keep his oar in.
7. Only Time Will Tell (2:26)
A gentle ballad, sung by Deerfrance, someone almost as uniformly odd as Nico. Her voice is gentle and pretty, with more of an emotional range than the Velvets chanteuse. It is a better voice overall, and works well with the moving viola, played by Cale, and plonks from the keyboard. The song seems an afterthought from the previous monster, looking at the current state of affairs and making the assertion that only time will tell if things shall improve from the unpleasant state they are in at the moment. A bleak sentiment perhaps, but 1979 was no picnic for New York or London, the two hotbeds of urban decay and punk. A gorgeous track, and an almost necessary addendum to the last song.
8. Sabotage (4:25)
The groggy bass and haywire passages on the guitar keep this song fresh, if much harder to like at first. The structure is less conventional here, and the improvisatory feel is obvious as no real song evolves from the mad burps and screeches on the bass and guitars. The drums thud whenever they feel like it and the music is essentially a bed for Cale’s rants. "Read and destroy everything that you read in the press/ It’s a waste of time it’s a waste of energy, whatever you read in books, leave it there!" he yells. This is first and foremost a rant and Cale makes sure that his point is clearly made, without resorting to layers of feedback and more primal assault favoured by groups of the time.
His repeated yells of "Sabotage!" at each chorus, along with sweeping statements as "Human intelligence isn’t what is used to be!" slams the message home nicely. This is another snapshot of the times, and by the time the song finishes, you can almost feel the entire fabric of society splitting completely as the music stops and he’s left alone on stage repeating that buzz word of the time just once more and once more, while the crowd remain mesmerised and palliated. Oddly powerful. It was later ripped off in To The Kill by the Violent Femmes.
9. Chorale (3:45)
The set bows out peacefully, in a forward-looking way. This track which seems to suggest that religion is the answer. The guitars use feedback in a powerful manner, creating a more sweeping sound while Cale’s voice takes centre stage. "The chorale of the living and the chorale of the dead, hand in hand from the beginning to the end," he sings, accompanied on backing vocals by Bidwell and Scott, who also play brief flashes of harmonica.
His verses are slightly unclear here, and unfortunately drag on without much point and reach their powerful conclusion without need of a second verse. Towards the end, the drums play a militaristic roll which makes this sound like some elegy for the fallen in a war, furthering the militaristic imagery but carrying it off with less success. Unsurprisingly, nobody in the audience claps this.
10. Chickenshit (3:34)
The songs on the Animal Justice EP are nothing special at all, and actually bring the album down somewhat. It is always hard to complain about bonus material, however, as it can be ignored by wishy-washy jerks like me. The first of these songs is an average rocker, cut through with kooky snippets of people muttering hearsay about the protagonist who has, by the sounds of things, done something rather bad.
Opening with the declaration of: "Hi, my name’s Arthur and I quit!" the tone here is at complete odds with the more serious material of the album, and this crosses the gap between genuine anger and self-parody. This hasn’t stood the test of time very well, and given how plenty of Cale’s material sounds camp anyway, this does him less favours. Still, there are some neat solos here on a par with those during the live set, but the track is too whimsical to merit repeated listens, except for picky, meticulous pedants like me.
11. Memphis (3:24)
The last rocker, this comes off more successfully than the previous track. The sound is cooler and more detached, with a bouncier melody and some surging bass. The chorus also makes use of the top guitarists with some very screechy solos indeed which sound like they’re being played on a violin and not a guitar. The lyrics have nothing to do with the themes of the album, and are frustratingly about relationships again but plus points go to the acoustic guitar solos. The western influence of the song which is obvious in the title, is pleasing. The finest song of the bonus material.
12. Hedda Gabler (8:10)
The final two tracks are far too long and don’t have anything except interest for rock historians and those interested in sub-par material. Which isn’t a huge amount of people, I think. This track is either about the 1890 play by Henrik Ibsen, a Norwegian dramatist whose work has influenced modern drama hugely, or someone else of the same name Cale knew. Given his previous literary references, I’d imagine the former is nearer the truth.
This is a long and bleak song which opens up into a great landscape, akin to a particularly indulgent Eno composition. The use of sonics here is impressive and it has a lengthy and almost hypnotic charm when the organ and drums slam in for each chorus. Given how it takes over two minutes for the first rendition of the chorus, this is far too long to wait, and given the topic is consciously arty and literate Cale is clearly just taking a chance with this song. Sometimes these types of tracks can be incredibly relaxing and enchanting but this is unfortunately just soporific and overlong.
13. Rosegarden Funeral of Sores (5:43)
The album closes with this odd and unintentionally amusing track, where Cale affects his finest gothic drawl. The bass grunts with its finest menace, and the synthesisers keep the slow, crawling track going as he casts one eye towards the dark, dark times of the eighties. It’s not very entertaining but there is an immeasurable joy in hearing Cale sing: "A paralytic stream of whores, in the rosegarden funeral of sores." It needs to be three minutes shorter, and that drum machine grates slightly after a few seconds. A poor way to round things off, but the song found life after being covered by cult act Bauhaus.
This live album has been touted as one of the best live rock albums of the seventies, and it certainly ranks up their with the finest live testaments of the punk era. Lou Reed’s Take No Prisoners effort was nothing short of dire, and with such classics as the Clash’s From Here To Eternity to compete with, this holds its head high as not only one the best rock albums of the late seventies, bit one of Cale’s most enjoyable efforts.
The original nine tracks here all have their merits and among these songs there are very few problems. The tone of the music is at times slightly off-kilter, but the majority of material here is nothing short of exceptional, and I would certainly recommend this to those looking for life after the Velvets or some of Cale’s most edgy and uncompromising work. The bonus material mires the final portion of the album down, but if one skips these tracks, then one is fine and dandy. Recommended.
Rating: 8/10
Gentle rumbling from the crowd begins this blistering opener. The brutal bass line throbs, establishing the song’s militaristic beat. Cale kicks proceedings off in style with his opening rant: "Mercenaries are useless! Disunited, unfaithful. They have nothing more to keep them in a battle, other than a meagre wage, which is just enough to make them want to kill for you, but not enough to make them want to die for you!"
His original Welsh accent still trickles through here, with a much more American tinge, then the guitars and drums blast in noisily with the first of the many screeching and strangled solos. "I’m just another solider boy! Looking for work, looking for war!"
Cale begins while the guitars jangle to the sneering lyrics. The whole song emanates the punk swagger of the time, with enough reckless tinges to convey anger and enough sarcastic humour to please the crowds. The most appealing moments of this song are the truly thrilling solos between each verse which set the fret board ablaze.
Marc Aaron is on lead guitar here and provides many of these fine moments but Cale is no slouch on guitar either. A modulation in the fourth minute keeps the song blazing and full of fury, and the playing here is nothing short of awe-inspiring and probably put many aspiring punk bands to shame. Lyrically, Cale seems to be attacking the gung-ho attitude of western troops in search for war, captured with the sentiment: "Trying to separate me from my money is like separating me from my life!"
The climax of the song keeps the relentless pace going and it is difficult not to be shocked when Cale starts to sing with increasing panic as if a bomb is about to explode. He begins a countdown and ends the refrain with his unique screech, immortalised in the legendary song Guts from one of his early albums: "Five thousand feet and closing… visibility zero!"
George Scott’s bass playing is razor sharp here, and Doug Bowne on drums also keeps things loud and uncompromising. There are a few plonks on the keyboard throughout, played by Joe Bidwell, but his contribution gets lost amid the glorious chaos. The song ends with a wash of feedback, and they somehow make their guitars sound like bombs a few moments after detonation. A quite unbeatable opener.
2. Baby You Know (4:01)
The keyboard is given more reign on this track and it plays the slightly less punky and more synthesised melody, overtaken by the gloriously seventies solo. The assault is less intimidating here, giving the audience some time to catch their breath after the dazzling opener. The keyboard plays more of an integral part in the melody, although the guitar still drives the song forward, along with the drums which are pushed into the back of the mix. Cale falls onto safe lyrical territory with a song about relationship problems, and the pace of the opener is matched when the song leaps into some wonderful guitar solos and a joyous solo on keyboard as well.
The instrumentation does seem raspy and squished in places, but the pace of the song is just as aggressive, in a more subtle way, especially Cale’s repeated cry of: "The more the get you want, the get the more you want!" The crowd’s response afterwards is slightly disappointing but perhaps there were few people in that evening.
3. Evidence (3:32)
The guitars growl and the confident, noisy pace is re-established for this thrusting track. The bass is dangerously unhinged throughout the song and the solos leap in and out of the verses with impunity. Cale enters with: "This is the morning after, the one the night before. Come crawling through your window, come crawling through your door." The final minute of the song is abound with solos, which screech dangerously at the highest notes of the fret board. Lyrically the song is haywire, but the words are slick and cool enough for this type of music, and he doesn’t have to perform spoken-word Dylan Thomas for it to kick ass.
The structures here, although at odds with the less tuneful ethic of punk rock are still impressive. All in all, the songs here are more impressive than the often sloppy melodies of punk, as these are professionals who know how to craft an engaging rock song. One problem with these tracks, however is that they all seem to bow out without a great deal of racket, and this one in particular has a slightly weak ending.
4. Dr. Mudd (3:54)
Perhaps the closest to Cale’s pop influences, this is fiendishly enjoyable song with an indelible hook and some unexpected ‘do-do’ backing from his players. The bass and drums keep the tune’s catchy melody going here, and it almost detracts from Cale’s confrontational lyrics. "What you gonna do, when China drops a bomb on you?" he asks, shot down by the irreverent backing of his snot-nosed band.
The solos are pushed out of the mix here, sounding more tinny and the bass and drums have the overall dominance, along with Cale who is very coherent throughout. This is actually a surprisingly upbeat track, irrespective of its lyrics, which suggest they were maybe on the wrong tack as far as tone is concerned. If the opener made you sit up and take notice, then this would have the opposite effect. As it stands, it is a skewered piece of rock where Cale just can’t shake off his Brian Wilson fixation long enough to make his points.
5. Walkin’ The Dog (4:08)
Written by Rufus Thomas, this propels the album further away from the aggressive territory towards a lighter, catchier and friendly sound. Just as likeable as the previous song this has another fine chorus which is impossible not to enjoy. "Baby’s back, dressed in black, silver buttons all down her back," he sings, accompanied on gang chorus by the rest of his band. Deerfrance, a punkier version of Nico joins in on backing vocals here before her star turn later on.
There’s a splendidly splintered solo towards the end, and the keyboards keep the tune fresh throughout, taking some of the menace from their sound. The bass is just as raspy as in previous songs and the drums are finely in sync, but this is far too cheerful to be filled with the fire-and-brimstone of punk angst. If anything the assault of the album has been diluted by this stage of the album, but it shifts in a darker direction anyway, so these songs are mainly huge fun.
6. Captain Hook (11:27)
"Take it with a pinch of salt," Cale mutters as this song opens. This comment seems to capture the entire feel of this album and their sessions here, and puts everyone’s mind at ease with regards to their intentions. With that cleared up, this song is free to be enjoyed for the mini-masterpiece it is. This is a large piece of arty prog rock, more akin to the lengthy voyages of Tom Verlaine’s Television than the thrust and power of the Pistols.
For all its indulgence and length, this is a hugely impressive centrepiece. The guitars tingle and screech together, creating these grand waterfalls of noise which are as enchanting as they are mysterious. The drums uncertainly thump and the bass puffs like some gentle waves, creating a choppy sound, perhaps supposed to capture the feeling of being lost at sea.
As a piece of musical imagery, this idea is powerful and makes this track something of a classic in Cale’s oeuvre. A very affecting song indeed. The lengthy intro fades at the end of the third minute, and the keyboard slowly plays the funereal melody. This song then becomes a bleak, mid-tempo voyage and Cale takes us into the gorgeous but despairing landscape he has created. Deerfrance provides backing vocals which are powerful over the coughing bass and dark guitars, sounding more and more distant and out of reach. "I lost my memory today, the day my ship set sail," Cale begins. The track is at its most powerful after the choruses where Cale sings: "I can’t keep living like this no more, can’t you see you’re losing me… again."
The sudden emotional intensity of this song is unexpected, but it is wholly appropriate given the decaying climate of the time, and the uncertainty that dogged people’s lives during the recessions of the late seventies. Bearing that in mind, this is a strong snapshot of the times and still a strong piece by today’s standards. Another lengthy solo moves the song towards its luscious and powerful climax, and the track has an almost hypnotic quality, with its shimmering guitars and increasingly intense harmonies.
"By hook or by crook, I am the captain of this light!" Cale screeches over the polished solos, refined as the band toured with these songs over the years. This, and the other songs began as improvisations, and from that process this masterpiece grew. The true highlight of this album, this receives the rapturous applause it deserves afterwards from the crowd, and makes the album something more than a collection of rock songs from Cale to keep his oar in.
7. Only Time Will Tell (2:26)
A gentle ballad, sung by Deerfrance, someone almost as uniformly odd as Nico. Her voice is gentle and pretty, with more of an emotional range than the Velvets chanteuse. It is a better voice overall, and works well with the moving viola, played by Cale, and plonks from the keyboard. The song seems an afterthought from the previous monster, looking at the current state of affairs and making the assertion that only time will tell if things shall improve from the unpleasant state they are in at the moment. A bleak sentiment perhaps, but 1979 was no picnic for New York or London, the two hotbeds of urban decay and punk. A gorgeous track, and an almost necessary addendum to the last song.
8. Sabotage (4:25)
The groggy bass and haywire passages on the guitar keep this song fresh, if much harder to like at first. The structure is less conventional here, and the improvisatory feel is obvious as no real song evolves from the mad burps and screeches on the bass and guitars. The drums thud whenever they feel like it and the music is essentially a bed for Cale’s rants. "Read and destroy everything that you read in the press/ It’s a waste of time it’s a waste of energy, whatever you read in books, leave it there!" he yells. This is first and foremost a rant and Cale makes sure that his point is clearly made, without resorting to layers of feedback and more primal assault favoured by groups of the time.
His repeated yells of "Sabotage!" at each chorus, along with sweeping statements as "Human intelligence isn’t what is used to be!" slams the message home nicely. This is another snapshot of the times, and by the time the song finishes, you can almost feel the entire fabric of society splitting completely as the music stops and he’s left alone on stage repeating that buzz word of the time just once more and once more, while the crowd remain mesmerised and palliated. Oddly powerful. It was later ripped off in To The Kill by the Violent Femmes.
9. Chorale (3:45)
The set bows out peacefully, in a forward-looking way. This track which seems to suggest that religion is the answer. The guitars use feedback in a powerful manner, creating a more sweeping sound while Cale’s voice takes centre stage. "The chorale of the living and the chorale of the dead, hand in hand from the beginning to the end," he sings, accompanied on backing vocals by Bidwell and Scott, who also play brief flashes of harmonica.
His verses are slightly unclear here, and unfortunately drag on without much point and reach their powerful conclusion without need of a second verse. Towards the end, the drums play a militaristic roll which makes this sound like some elegy for the fallen in a war, furthering the militaristic imagery but carrying it off with less success. Unsurprisingly, nobody in the audience claps this.
10. Chickenshit (3:34)
The songs on the Animal Justice EP are nothing special at all, and actually bring the album down somewhat. It is always hard to complain about bonus material, however, as it can be ignored by wishy-washy jerks like me. The first of these songs is an average rocker, cut through with kooky snippets of people muttering hearsay about the protagonist who has, by the sounds of things, done something rather bad.
Opening with the declaration of: "Hi, my name’s Arthur and I quit!" the tone here is at complete odds with the more serious material of the album, and this crosses the gap between genuine anger and self-parody. This hasn’t stood the test of time very well, and given how plenty of Cale’s material sounds camp anyway, this does him less favours. Still, there are some neat solos here on a par with those during the live set, but the track is too whimsical to merit repeated listens, except for picky, meticulous pedants like me.
11. Memphis (3:24)
The last rocker, this comes off more successfully than the previous track. The sound is cooler and more detached, with a bouncier melody and some surging bass. The chorus also makes use of the top guitarists with some very screechy solos indeed which sound like they’re being played on a violin and not a guitar. The lyrics have nothing to do with the themes of the album, and are frustratingly about relationships again but plus points go to the acoustic guitar solos. The western influence of the song which is obvious in the title, is pleasing. The finest song of the bonus material.
12. Hedda Gabler (8:10)
The final two tracks are far too long and don’t have anything except interest for rock historians and those interested in sub-par material. Which isn’t a huge amount of people, I think. This track is either about the 1890 play by Henrik Ibsen, a Norwegian dramatist whose work has influenced modern drama hugely, or someone else of the same name Cale knew. Given his previous literary references, I’d imagine the former is nearer the truth.
This is a long and bleak song which opens up into a great landscape, akin to a particularly indulgent Eno composition. The use of sonics here is impressive and it has a lengthy and almost hypnotic charm when the organ and drums slam in for each chorus. Given how it takes over two minutes for the first rendition of the chorus, this is far too long to wait, and given the topic is consciously arty and literate Cale is clearly just taking a chance with this song. Sometimes these types of tracks can be incredibly relaxing and enchanting but this is unfortunately just soporific and overlong.
13. Rosegarden Funeral of Sores (5:43)
The album closes with this odd and unintentionally amusing track, where Cale affects his finest gothic drawl. The bass grunts with its finest menace, and the synthesisers keep the slow, crawling track going as he casts one eye towards the dark, dark times of the eighties. It’s not very entertaining but there is an immeasurable joy in hearing Cale sing: "A paralytic stream of whores, in the rosegarden funeral of sores." It needs to be three minutes shorter, and that drum machine grates slightly after a few seconds. A poor way to round things off, but the song found life after being covered by cult act Bauhaus.
This live album has been touted as one of the best live rock albums of the seventies, and it certainly ranks up their with the finest live testaments of the punk era. Lou Reed’s Take No Prisoners effort was nothing short of dire, and with such classics as the Clash’s From Here To Eternity to compete with, this holds its head high as not only one the best rock albums of the late seventies, bit one of Cale’s most enjoyable efforts.
The original nine tracks here all have their merits and among these songs there are very few problems. The tone of the music is at times slightly off-kilter, but the majority of material here is nothing short of exceptional, and I would certainly recommend this to those looking for life after the Velvets or some of Cale’s most edgy and uncompromising work. The bonus material mires the final portion of the album down, but if one skips these tracks, then one is fine and dandy. Recommended.
Rating: 8/10
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