12/14/1995
*** Various Artists
OUR BAND COULD BE YOUR LIFE: A TRIBUTE TO D BOON AND THE MINUTEMEN
(Little Brother)
The Minutemen stood for a radical, uncompromising blue-collar conception of punk.
They infused economical songs with free jazz, country, Blue Öyster Cult, lefty politics,
and just about anything else that was lying around San Pedro, California. None of which
has made them a popular target for covers, especially in the era of color-by-numbers pop
punk.
Former Minuteman Mike Watt's been honoring the legacy of his best friend and former
bandmate, D Boon, in just about every musical venture he's undertaken since Boon's death,
in December 1985. He shows up here on five of 35 tracks, playing bass with friends like
Thurston Moore and D's brother Joe Boon, and his own wife, Kira. But this is mainly a
chance for others -- Lou Barlow, Seam, Meat Puppets, the Brain Surgeons, Tsunami, Jawbox,
the Meices, Unwound, to name a few -- to rediscover the power and passion of one of
America's punk treasures and maybe learn something in the process. They all rise to the
challenge. And who knows, maybe the Meices covering "Political Song for Michael
Jackson To Sing" or Seam's haunting take on Boon's raging "This Ain't No
Picnic" can help bring some of the Minutemen's gritty iconoclasm back into punk.
-- Matt Ashare
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10/23/1997
HMS Watt
Capt'n Mike's punk-rock opera
What becomes a punk-rock legend most?
In the case of Mike Watt, it's love. His new Contemplating the Engine Room
(Columbia) brims with the stuff. Love for his family and his roots. For his hometown: San
Pedro, California. For music and the process of making it, and all the friends and allies
he's shared that with. And, most poignantly for longtime fans of Watt's work, love for his
lost friend the late D. Boon. Boon was someone who fell out of the sky -- or at least a
tree -- to knock Watt unconscious and set him upon the road of his somewhat charmed life.
What greater gift could a friend bestow?
That Watt treasures the gifts that have fallen to him is evident on nearly every
one of Engine Room's 15 songs. His everyman's voice sounds relaxed and content -- at peace
with his history and accomplishments and place in the universe. When he sings "I'm a
lucky man" in "The Boilerman," which celebrates his meeting Boon, it's a
touching expression of honesty -- the equivalent of a gospel singer testifying for Jesus.
It's tempting to call this the bassist/songwriter's least-calculated work since his
days with guitarist Boon and drummer George Hurley as early-'80s punk torchbearers the
Minutemen. Especially since Engine Room follows Ball-hog or Tugboat?, Watt's 1995 solo
debut, which was bolstered by an unignorable cast of alterna-rock heroes including Eddie
Vedder and J Mascis. But that would be an exaggeration, because Watt's latest is a concept
album -- a punk-rock opera.
At least, that's what he calls it.
This CD is a loose autobiography that ranges from his lineage, with tales of his
father's growth to manhood, to his days with Boon discovering punk rock and then wallowing
in it as they created some of the best modern music made in the USA. Engine Room -- which
uses its all-at-sea setting as a metaphor for navigating the oceans of life -- ends with
Watt's realization that he's found his place creatively and maybe even found himself. That
voyage over, he's now happy pulling "Shore Duty" (the CD's last song), simply
being Mike Watt and making Wattmusic.
The Wattmusic on this album is part Gilbert & Sullivan, part cosmic awakening.
Hearing the rough-edged live debut of Engine Room in New York last month, as part of a
Columbia Records showcase during the annual convention of the magazine College Music
Journal, I was struck mostly by the former. Initially I thought the very concept of a rock
opera seemed too precious for Watt's down-to-earth "econo" philosophy of life
and musicmaking. So when I spotted him slouching on some empty beer cases next to the bar
-- as the college DJs and other attendees grooved on their first time hearing opener Ric
Ocasek spiel out Cars songs -- I asked him watt's watt with the "rock opera"
thing.
"Punk-rock. PUNK-rock opera!" he said, pointing between my eyes.
"Punk. That's very important. You watch."
I did. And it was touching to see this pioneering flannel wearer singing about his
world and -- at the same time -- winging it musically. He spent as much effort thumping
bass and projecting his guts into the microphone as he did cueing drummer Stephen Hodges
and guitarist Joe Baiza (former Saccharine Trust and Universal Congress of . . . genius,
who was new to the music). There were passages of gentle improvisation, then enough punk
thunder to bring a less-mannered crowd to the throes of moshing. There were also sound
effects -- waves splashing, valves being turned -- that reminded me of an old radio play.
There's no rust -- and no obvious learning curve -- on the album, however, where
Watt's joined by Hodges and guitarist Nels Cline (who was on the Ball-hog or Tugboat? tour
and plays with the Geraldine Fibbers). In his liner notes, Watt says the CD is "one
whole piece that celebrates three people playing together." Indeed, few rock trios
since the Minutemen (and before that the Jimi Hendrix Experience) have vibed so
eloquently. The music here seems a combination of Watt's every influence, from three-chord
punk to free jazz to light opera to avant-skronk. Watt's the glue, playing rolling phrases
on his tuned-down bass that establish the mood for each song. Hodges commands a masterful
palette of insinuating thumps, coloring Watt's lyrics with percussive notions or snapping
the trio in fresh directions. Cline, however, provides the big thrills, whether using
subtle swells of volume to illuminate the arrival of a new idea in Watt's narrative or
exploding like the raga-influenced love child of Hendrix and Sonny Sharrock.
Contemplating the Engine Room is the kind of work rarely found in rock anymore. How
often, when listening to the radio, do we understand what the artists behind the songs
really think and feel? Here, Watt's opened up his heart. Have a look.
by Ted Drozdowski
(Mike Watt plays the Met Café in Providence this Wednesday, October 29, and the
Middle East in Cambridge next Thursday, October 30.)
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05/10/2001
Brave Captain
NOTHING LIVES LONG, HE SANG, ONLY THE EARTH AND THE MOUNTAINS
(THIRSTY EAR)
As the singer/guitarist and leader of England’s Boo Radleys, Martin Carr
specialized in My Bloody Valentine–inflected guitar squalls and songs that tended to
be more precious and cerebral than ferocious. And though Brave Captain, Carr’s new
alter ego, borrows the name from a track off Ragin’ Full On (SST), the 1987 debut
album by Mike Watt’s burly, punk-rockin’ fIREHOSE, Carr more or less continues
in the Boo Radleys vein here. The arrangements are a bit more orchestral than he’s
preferred in the past: horn and string arrangements embellish the disc’s largely
guitar-centered pop songcraft in a manner that brings to mind the productions of Brian
Wilson and Phil Spector. On " The Tragic Story, " Carr seems to be aiming for
the twisted pop soundscapes of the Flaming Lips, but his lyrics keep the song anchored in
working-class England. He nails it, though, with " Where Is My Head, " a
kaleidoscopic snapshot of existential crisis.
BY MARK WOODLIEF
Issue Date: May 10 - 16, 2001
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