LaRM day 119 (Dukes of Stratosphear-Dump)

In the mid-80's XTC recorded a couple of records under the pseudonym The Dukes of Stratosphear, and they are possibly the greatest works of parody/homage ever recorded. Ostensibly a pastiche of pretty much all counter-cultural 60's music, the Dukes of Stratosphear records sound like Pink Floyd, the Hollies, Jefferson Airplane, late Beatles, you name it, they sound like it. It's really the most remarkable achievement, the production is perfect, there's almost no distinguishing them from the real thing, either in terms of the sound, the songwriting, or the lyrics (which are superbly nonsensical throughout). First mini-LP, 25 O'Clock (1985) sets the template from the off with the title track which is a brilliant piece of pastiche psychedelia (in fact it's the psych-out pop song that they are particularly perfect at skewering). Andy Partridge's songwriting is so singular and crafted that there are occasional moments where you can hear XTC clearly through the parody (the chorus of 'What In the World??' is a giveaway), but on the whole you could convince anyone that didn't already know otherwise that this is a discovery from 1967 with ease. The full album proper, Psonic Psunspot (1987) is more of the same, but with the whole exercise turned to a more straightforward pop bent (the XTC-ness of it all is much clearer on Psonic Psunspot than 25 O'Clock). It's another great record, but it doesn't have quite the same incredible degree of care in its parodies than 25 O'Clock. Nonetheless 'Vanishing Girl' and 'You're a Good Man, Albert Brown' are two of the best 60's songs ever recorded, that just happened not to have been made in the 60's... What's fantastic about both of these records is that it might seem like an utterly pointless exercise, making pastiche 60's songs, and for most people it would be, but XTC are so steeped in this stuff, so brilliantly self-aware, and such exceptional songwriters that these may be pastiche but it's done to a beautifully artful degree, and they are also simply great albums in their own right.

If there's one not very good record from the last few years that I can't explain why I love, it's the Duke Spirit's Neptune (2007). It's a fairly bog-standard rock record (and it's got an appalling sleeve), but there's just something about it that I really, really like. It's probably in no small measure down to Liela Moss' cig-blasted vocals. Anyway, it's a rock record, and that's about the size of it. But as far as British bands playing bluesy-rock goes (and that's not far), this is as good as it can get. Highly polished yet strangely scuzzy, the fuzzed-up guitars and four to the floor drums make for a pleasingly propulsive sound, and the songs although on close inspection a tiny bit corny sound on the surface really great. It's one of those records, I don't know if it'll weather time, to be honest I doubt it, but there's just something about it that I think really works. I haven't any interest in finding out about their other albums, which is telling I suppose, but Neptune really works for me. Btw, don't confuse them with the ghastly records by the dreadlocked idiot calling himself the Duke Special. His records are just terrible.

A little bit more from Greg Dulli now with the sole album released under his name, Amber Headlights (2005). It's an odd record this, strangely uncomplete, but it was cobbled together from pieces that he had recorded as preliminary work before the death of his friend Ted Demme derailed the project, so the fact it sounds a bit disjointed is not surprising. What is surprising are the problems with the record. Most of the tunes are decent versions of Dulli's standard soul and R&B infused big indie-rock, but although hugely enjoyable these are tunes that he does better on other records and they sound strangely flat. Openers 'So Tight' and 'Cigarettes' are really good, vicious bits of boogie-blues rock, swaggering and arrogant, but they're hidebound by some of the most surprisingly cliched lyrics he's ever written, and considering much of the strength of Dulli's songwriting lies in his blisteringly uncomfortable lyrics, this is a real disappointment. None of this is to say that the record isn't a great listen, but it is in comparison with Dulli's other work that Amber Headlights falls disappointingly short.

The first Dum Dum Girls album, I Will Be (2010) is pretty much a solo effort from lead Dum Dum Girl Dee Dee. It's deeply indebted to Psychocandy, but as we've mentioned before, if you're going to rip something off to this extent, you might as well be sure you're ripping off something decent. The 60's girl-group harmonies echo the Jesus & Mary Chain's surf band vocal lines, and the dense, muddy, echoey production is also as derivative. But I Will Be is a great record, one buzzy, fuzzy ramalam song follows another with barely a discernible difference between them, but that's no problem, because this is an album where the fact it has one really good song repeated eleven times simply doesn't matter. The trash aesthetic behind the whole thing means it's the mood of that one song, the super-8 summer day roadtrip feel, that matters and this stuff works. By the time the second album, Only In Dreams (2011) was recorded Dee Dee had recruited three other members to the band, and the album feels much more "proper". From the very start of the album it's clear that Dee Dee has been encouraged to approach her vocals much more confidently and the mumbled, half-buried in the mix approach on I Will Be is gone in favour of a much more upfront singing style. Surprisingly she has a really decent voice and the move of the vocals to the front of the mix changes the whole sound of the band (if anything they sound a bit like an early Pretenders on Only In Dreams), and the songs are much, much better. Undoubtedly the hardcore indie kids will have been dismayed at how mature Only In Dreams sounds, but boo hoo, it's a great record, with much more solid guitar-rock. The 60's influence is still as all-encompassing as I Will Be, but this time out they sound like a great band writing really decent guitar-pop songs.

When not defining Yo La Tengo's wonderful sound, bassist James McNew spends his time knocking together ultra-lo-fi recordings at home and has sporadically released these under the moniker of Dump. The first Dump album, Superpowerless (1993) covers home recordings he put together over the course of the preceding three years and is necessarily a fairly scrappy collection, without a cohesive feel. But, as is the case with everything McNew touches, this is the most graceful, delicate and utterly winning lo-fi stuff you'll ever hear. It is the sound of a nice person making music for a gentler world and it's heart-melting. Personally I find Superpowerless the least successful of the Dump albums but that's only tracing the finest cracks between one lovely record and another, and although it is certainly the muddiest sounding, it has all the usual charm coursing in its veins. McNew's own songs are always understated and take their time to insinuate, which is I suspect one reason why he always includes a number of cover versions, and in keeping with YLT's musicologist reputation, his choices are always, cool, clever and knowing and his covers always get to the delicate heart of even the hardest songs.

Probably the best Dump album is A Plea for Tenderness (1998). It's another hour of lovely lo-fi mucking about with a heart, and this time out it's a more solid and fluent album. There's some really lovely stuff on A Plea for Tenderness, McNew's originals soft and insinuating and the covers as smartly eclectic and deconstructed as tenderly as ever. As lo-fi as these records are there's no getting away from either McNew's musical deftness or his superb interpretative skills - he thinks wholly like a composer rather than as a performer and brings his smartness then to bear on the performance. There are lenghty drone pieces on a cheap organ, delicate little pieces on tinny guitar and everything in between, it's all utterly charming. McNew's high, weak voice suits his style of writing and playing and the real skill of this stuff is that, unlike most lo-fi which is entirely insular, McNew's records openly invite the listener in. While the choices of covers is always surprising, there's never any sense of parody so even when he's doing Everlasting Love in a totally stripped down way, you're reminded that no matter how cheesy the original seems, it's a great song. And that's McNew's greatest trick, he's solely about the songs.

And it's that dedication to the song that goes some way to explaining his next Dump project, a covers only album dedicated exclusively to Prince songs, That Skinny Motherfucker with the High Voice (2000). As a lo-fi interpreter, yet again, McNew is second to none and the totally deconstructed nature of these songs makes you listen to them again with totally fresh ears. All of Prince's natural desire for excess is taken to its opposite extreme and you're left hearing these fantastic songs is if for the first time. Of particular note are McNew's achingly sad reading of '1999' and 'The Beautiful Ones'. Again, there's no parody or pastiche intended in any of this, it's simply someone who is the polar opposite of Prince (McNew is not someone who would pretend to be "sexy" and flaunt it about. Not with his figure), in both musical intent and presentation, but who absolutely loves the records, loves the songs and fancied trying his own approach to them. It's not all entirely successful, and really couldn't be, but it's as near as possible.

Tomorrow we begin an extremely lengthy journey through that old bandwagon jumper Mr Robert Zimmerman's back pages. Deep breath.