It's on to Boss Hog now, starting with the notorious debut mini-LP Drinkin', Lechin' & Lyin' (1990). Notorious not for the contents of the songs, but for the cover photo of singer Cristina Martinez which, as you'll see below, speaks for itself. I loved the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and Pussy Galore, and was keen to pick up anything that Jon Spencer made. Drinkin', Lechin' & Lyin' is a stereotypical messy splurge of tinny guitar noise and the occasional shriek or shout from Spencer or Martinez. It's closer in nature to the late Pussy Galore records, so there isn't a great deal in the way of songwriting or melody but there's tons of energy and it's a fairly glorious scrappy mess. Follow up album, Cold Hands (1990), is pretty much more of the same, but it's better recorded and you can hear that there's some control to the noise this time round. It's still a smear of grimy, tinny noise but it's got a bit more structure this time around and is all the better for it.
Up to this point the band had been a sort of lightened version of Pussy Galore, with Martinez's presence scarcely audible, but the release of Girl+ in 1992 suggested that they had been working on developing the sound substantially. Opener 'Ruby' is a much more controlled and slinky song, with a clear melody and a much more restrained feel than their usual stuff. It also uses a parping trumpet as well as the usual battery of guitar and drums, and Martinez is given a song to actually sing, with Spencer relegated to background barks and shouts. The rest of mini-LP Girl+ is along similar lines, less restrained, but certainly as structured and controlled. It's a clear sign that they were taking being in a band much more seriously, and that impression is heightened further by the brilliant Boss Hog LP which appeared in 1995. This is without a doubt the best record they made, a blistering set of grubby blues-rock which finally utilises the best that each band member has to offer. Martinez really finally gets to do her stuff, with her throaty, sometimes vicious, sometimes drawling delivery and it's a revelation that she can actually deliver. Spencer has given the bass and the guitar some space for once and the songs alternately roll and swagger. It's closer in feel to the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion albums that he was making at the time, but it's still got it's own character, mostly thanks to Martinez, and the whole thing is fantastic. There were a couple of singles released from the Boss Hog album, one of which was 'I Dig You'. It's a decent tune, but there are better on the album, and the B-sides aren't essential but the cover of Wire's '12XU' is good fun.
There was silence while Spencer concentrated on the Blues Explosion (and both he and Martinez were concentrating on their first child - the physical results of which Martinez is keen to underplay, if the cover of Whiteout is anything to go by) and then in 2000 Boss Hog released their final album, Whiteout. A changed line-up and the introduction of keyboards meant a changed sound again and this time out it's a really glossy sound, tightly produced, fully fleshed out songs and a strong sense of purpose. But despite some occasional scuzzy guitar work, it's a million miles from the sound of the band that released Drinkin', Lechin' and Lyin'. It's much more of a tight pop album than a junked out indie rock one. That's not to say it isn't a good album, it really is, but it sounds odd when you listen to the records in order in one session.
I've always been a bit apathetic when it comes to old Davey Bovril's Hunky Dory (1971). I think that it's all a bit annoyingly wilfully twee and when 'Kooks' comes on it makes me feel like I'm going to come out in hives. But to be honest I think it might be another case of being antagonistic towards records that we're all told that we should like all our sodding lives. None of the big songs really get me, even though I know that they're great; 'Changes' and 'Life on Mars' leave me relatively cold despite the fact that they're fantastically well written songs, and stuff like 'Queen Bitch' and 'Andy Warhol' is just too transparently derivative. Bowie was still in thrall to too many other people at this point I think and it would be a while before he truly became a unique talent. I'll grant that 'Quicksand' and 'The Bewlay Brothers' are great tunes though. To compound the evidence that I'm contrary to the max, I haven't got any of the next few albums (no Ziggy Stardust, no Aladdin Sane, etc), so we move straight on to Young Americans (1975). Despite the fact that it's a load of stupid rubbish, I love Young Americans. The title track is a great bit of overblown cod soul (in fact most of the album is great overblown cod soul) and it's a testament to Bowie's inordinate lack of humility (some people read "genius") that he thinks he can get away with this stuff. AND HE CAN! It's amazing. Nothing about Young Americans feels authentic (from the cover shot of a pouting, soft-focus Bovril onwards) but nothing about it feels wrong either (alright, with the sole exception of the bizarre and absurd cover of 'Across the Universe', but, charming though the song is in it's own odd way, it's still an absurd song anyway). 'Win', 'Fascination', particularly 'Somebody Up There Likes Me', it's all weirdly, uniquely cheesy and all utterly great.
But anyway, forget all of that trash, because here's the real deal. It's shameful that I haven't got Station To Station and I can't explain why I haven't, but I haven't and there it is. So we move on to the highlight of the Bov's career as far as I'm concerned, 1977's Low. All that mucking about in Berlin with Eno, Iggy and heroin might have been as tawdry and miserable as it sounds but boy did they all make some great records out of it. Low may well rank as the greatest album of the 70's for me. It's an absolute masterpiece with no precedents, no lineage, no real roots and as such it's truly extraordinary that it seems so solid, so complete, and so robust. Truly unique records are few and far between and most aren't actually much fun to listen to, but Low is in a class all it's own. This really is the sound of experimentation as pop music and it's glorious. The fizzing, melodic first side is the real treat but it still sounds remarkably bold to have an entirely contrary second side, reserved exclusively for ambient, experimental soundscapes, but even these aren't alienating or challenging. It's incredible stuff. And what's more it has probably the greatest line in modern pop music in 'Breaking Glass' - who but the Bov could get away with "Don't look at the carpet, I drew something awful on it - see". Unmitigated genius.
More of the mighty Davie B tomorrow.
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