Workin' and jerkin'

A how-to and how-not-to

by John O'Neill

After nearly three years of music duty at the Worcester Phoenix, I've had a great ride. I've interviewed my personal heroes (Brian Wilson, J.J. Rassler, Dex Romweber, the Fleshtones, and Dave Alvin, which will prompt most rational folks to think I keep my sights low. But that's okay, because I love 'em all anyhow). I've made friendships that will last a lifetime, and I've won the eternal wrath of Winterboy and of three-fourths of All Else Fails. I've received lots of free junk, beat cover charges, and was threatened with physical harm only once (not Winterboy). Not too shabby, all things considered. Which is why I want to give you, the fine people of Wormtown, USA, something in return. So here's my one piece of advice: never underestimate the power of slack.

Am I suggesting you cheat the Man out of an honest day's work? You bet! Look, the average person today does what it took two people to do in 1957. You work twice as hard for less pay, marginal benefits, and for a retirement plan that may, some day, keep you semi-comfortable, assuming the company isn't bought and you aren't "downsized." Add in bonuses like mandatory overtime and weekend work (again, less pay for you salaried types) -- not to mention the fact that the good jobs have been taken by those nefarious, middle-aged jerk-offs formerly known as hippies -- and you have every right to seek retribution. We aren't whining, just make the creeps pay. Go ahead, use the company phone for personal calls -- order takeout from Hong Kong! Use the copier to make fliers for your next gig, the computer to download pornography, and office time to update résumés or to do freelance assignments.

Which brings us to this week's column. On Wednesday, March 15, the Worcester Phoenix kicks off its seventh annual Best Music Poll party at the Tammany Club. And, naturally, you're invited to come, eat free food, shake your ass to live entertainment, and find out who are worthy enough to be nominated for the area's most prestigious music awards. Normally, I'd be slaving over a feature on some band, which can be a fair amount of work -- especially if you have an uncanny knack for ignoring conventional writing techniques like spelling and grammar. But since the Big Night is approaching, I'm implementing the standard, writer slacking device: the Pocket Record Review. The PRR (if you will) is still work if you want to give an artist a fair shake. But it can also be used much like musical spackle -- strictly skim the surface, then move on to a three-hour lunch.

You may ask how this fits with getting one over on the company. Easy. What can you always count on at these social functions besides Captain P.J. and pizza? Yes, the free drink ticket. These trinkets are usually divided among the mucky-mucks and the sales staff so they can take care of the "important" people. A few may trickle down to the lowly columnist, but you also could die of thirst waiting. So rather than do an in-depth story that requires God-knows-how-many-unnecessary hours, I can do a handful of PRRs and spend the rest of the week wandering around HQ, raiding desk drawers, cubicles, and unguarded pocketbooks for the somehow elusive, free pass to Blottoville. The plan is to acquire as many as possible to then pass along to you, dear reader. See you Wednesday, and keep your dance card open.

Bombay Jim and the Swinging Sapphires, Not Just Visiting

(Songkeepers)

16-song CD

Bombay Jim is Jim Porcella, a guy we've always loved as a no-frills jazz crooner. And the Sapphires are a crackerjack eight-piece of veteran jazz musicians. So why such a tepid result? Mostly because Porcella's long gravitated toward the smoothed-out Sinatra/Dick Haymes side of the street, but Not Just Visiting finds him mining the untamed territory of Cab Calloway, Louie Prima, and of Louie Jordan. Billed as authentic swing music, BJ and the Sapphires have chosen to cover the genre's most obvious hits. "Caldonia," "Just a Gigolo," "Goody-Goody," and the should-have-been-forgotten "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree" are given perfunctory workouts that stay close to the original versions. The band swing fine, yet Porcella's phrasing is as stiff as Jim Belushi doing the "White Guy Rap." He sounds soulless at times, and we know this isn't the case. Maybe they should have picked better material, or maybe Porcella should have listened to more swing albums before hopping on the wagon. Either way, we're fine with Not Just Visiting going away.

Backyard Strut, Emotional Skies (Strut)

10-song CD

Where have the biker bands gone? To the suburbs, of course, and Southbridge's Backyard Strut are an example of rockers who got older, got married, yet didn't forget their roots -- which, in this case, is wanking blues rock. You hear pre-Eliminator ZZ Top on "Narrow Escape," Dire-Straits-meets-Stevie-Ray shuffle boogie on "Sweet Bobby," and Cream quasi-psychedelia on "Freedom Riders." They also throw in some Dead guitar noodle, some reggae, and some off-kilter pop. Though there are low points because of poor production or flat-out rank lyrics, the four play their parts well and get a good groove going. It's nothing you haven't heard, but Backyard Strut do a credible job of keeping alive the John Kay rebel-rock-and-leather-chaps thing. Perfect for the summer rally.

Dr. Chris Van Kleeck, The Doctor Is Out

10-song CD

The doctor is certainly out (of his head). Ever since he caught our attention two winters ago with his patented brand of Psychfolk, Van Kleeck has brandished his guitar and his warped world view at area coffeehouses and bars. We figured him a one-off, soon to be forgotten. Instead, he does better with his second outing. Picking up on the theme of his first disc -- perseverative odes to prescription medication -- the mad doctor gives us the Country Joe treatment: an album for sing-along fun and goofiness. The Oedipal complex, lobotomies, fear of technology, Alzheimer's, Michael Kennedy, and Dr. Laura are targets of the loose BB's rolling around Van Kleeck's noggin. Interestingly, the bare-boned "Heard an Old Song" is the only serious tune, as well as the finest. Another choice, mental journey from a very mental man.

Jacob Berendes, Ordem e Progresso

22-song CD

Worcester sample-head Jacob Berendes returns with a load of extremely twisted stuff. Beginning with the kiddie chant-along "Introducing Jacob Berendes," Ordem touches upon everything from '50s bachelor-pad jazz ("What is the Mind") to repetitive acoustic loops meet a hearing test ("Amelia Earhart Still Missing") to Spacemen Three acid vibe ("Danielle"). Add less-than-conventional covers of CCR's "Proud Mary," the Shaggs' legendary "My Pal Foot Foot," and an unintelligible "Stairway to Heaven," and you have a fine, 60-minute soundtrack to scare parents into giving into your wildest whim. It's an acquired listen (we recommend starting with the immortal "Young Children's Fight Song"), but one that grows like a happy, little fungus on your frontal lobe. Trade Berendes a copy of your zine or disc and get Ordem for free! Write him at yourdeadneighbors@yahoo.com