After Galaxie 500 split, Dean Wareham formed Luna and the other two went off and made albums under their Christian names, Damon & Naomi. The first Damon & Naomi album, More Sad Hits (1992) is interesting in that although it essentially attempts to retain Galaxie 500's post-Velvets drone ramble, it proves that it was really Dean Wareham who had the songs. More Sad Hits is a nice trip through the Shimmy-Disc sound, but that's the source of another complication - without Wareham's punctilious attitude, Kramer has been allowed to have his way entirely and produce the album entirely in his own image. In many ways More Sad Hits sounds like a Kramer album with different singers and the honest truth is that although More Sad Hits is a lovely record it sounds like it's the product of someone who wasn't even involved in the band and the producer rather than the two people whose names are on the album.
Now, I would never have bought any records by the Queen it's OK to hate, the Darkness. But what can I tell you, once again they were free. To be totally honest I really like the Darkness. I don't know if that's just because I'm contrary by nature and the orthodoxy is to say that they're shit, but whatever the reason, I can really get behind the Darkness' inspired idiocy. I think it takes a lot of smarts to be that moronic and while the world gets excited by the insipid irony-free version of rock's retarded past with rubbish like Rock of Ages, the Darkness seem to me to have been both a step ahead and a whole lot cleverer, making records with abandon, to sound exactly like the best tribute act you've ever seen, while recognising that that's exactly what they sound like. And that's the key, they so clearly knew what they were doing. Anyway, first album Permission To Land (2003) is great, rubbish and stupid. So it's great. 'I Believe In a Thing Called Love' may well have been the biggest hit but there's loads of good nonsense. Second album One Way Ticket to Hell...And Back (2005) is worse, and lays on the obvious Queen cues too thick but there are still some pretty gold moments. It's all nonsense of course and as I say, I would never buy it but I still think there's a place for this kind of smart-arsed idiocy.
Ah, the lovely Darling Buds. There were a few of these buzzsaw guitars and 60's influenced female vocal acts around in the late 80's (the Primitives the most successful I guess) but I always like the Darling Buds the most. Pop Said is a great album. But I haven't got it. I have got the 'Hit the Ground' 12" (1988) and it's got three great little fizzy guitar pop numbers. 'Hit the Ground' itself is great, but the best of them is the most obviously 60's indebted 'Pretty Girl'.
Che Records put out some great stuff while they were around and one of the many totally unsuccessful bands they released records by was Dart. I think the Dart records are really ace, gloomy miserable, but with a real spirit, a real bite. They were kind of the mid-way point between American Music Club's fiery pessimism and Red House Painters mordant miserabilism. The 2 tracks from the 'Doggie' 7" (1995) I can't find on the net, but the next 7" (also 1995) is on Youtube. 'Bugger' is a decent showcase of Dart's style, brisk and noisy, brash, impassioned but careful not to give too much away. It's a great song, and one that I think demonstrates Dart's better grasp of the relevance of melody and pace to gloominess than Mark Kozelek has ever managed. B-side 'Protection' is a typically downbeat (and not entirely successful) cover of the Massive Attack number. First and only album 36 Cents An Hour (1995) is sadly also not accessible via the internet, which is a big shame because I think it's a fabulous album.
But anyway, moving right along then, to Ray Davies' 2007 solo album (and Times newspaper freebie giveaway!) Working Man's Cafe. By all rights Davies' career as an edgy, interesting songwriter should have been long over, and the last few Kinks albums suggested as such pretty clearly. However, Working Man's Cafe and its predecessor, Other People's Lives prove that Davies is as vital as he has been for many years. Working Man's Cafe is an appropriately scrappy, punchy album with performances that sound as if they were played pretty much live in the studio and it has an immediacy which is nearly as thrilling as they were back in the Kinks heyday. Lyrically Davies is bang up to date on Working Man's Cafe (which may prove to date the album in time) and although he's clearly pretty hacked off, he clothes his frustrations in cynical irony, as ever, and there's no fist-banging here. But then, Davies has always been the anti-ideologue so it's no surprise that his observations are not much more than simply that - the viewpoint of an ironically detached middle-aged man raising an eyebrow at the world's choices.
Eccentric songwriter and erstwhile musical partner of Lou Barlow, John Davis' solo albums are exercises in patience testing, but Blue Mountains (1997) is one of his more charming efforts. His childish and light vocals which are usually somewhat grating fit with the faux-naive musical setting on Blue Mountains more easily than usual, and while on the whole the album still feels faintly irritating, there is more than enough charm to draw on. The acoustic songs work best when augmented by other elements (the cruddy Casiotone on 'I'll Burn' for instance is lovely) and although there's some trying stuff going on it's for the most part a genuinely warm piece of work.
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