CALVIN JOHNSON & THE SONS OF THE SOIL – CALVIN JOHNSON & THE SONS OF THE SOIL (K RECORDS)
Never failing to enthuse and as ever sounding as if straight from the greatest surf bikini movie never made here is the latest outing of Mr Johnson. This is happily a very beach party record for those afraid to remove their shirts and expose their bodies. Surfers and beatniks make for a great combination.
As some kind of weird crooner Calvin Johnson is second to none, his voice is very distinct, clear and piercing, in a league of its own creating excitement in the hearts of sloppy cats looking for wicked love.
Dated but timeless this collection is trademark K Records, naïve sounding and appearing to exist in its own dimension/reality numbed but not subdued against external forces. This way either the listener can enjoy and indulge or it can clear off.
With this record Calvin is taking the opportunity to run through some of the prize moments from his back catalogue to run through and record Beat Happening, Halo Benders and Go Team songs for the first in a band setting. Great success!
There is something almost seedy in these ambiguous, weird sex songs (“Banana Meltdown”, I ask you). Calvin Johnson these days feels on the verge of turning into an indie pop John Waters figure sticking staunchly to his guns whilst constantly discovering new ammunition. He is remains a real raconteur, using the technique of visionering humour as displayed in the “Cattle Call” breaks/breathers. The second of these skits almost sounds like something from Kids In The Hall. It is no secret as to how much influence Calvin Johnson has had on the US independent and college rock scenes (the International Pop Underground) over the past twenty years and these days it feels a rare pleasure to hear a new record of his. And with his reputation being somewhat prickly, it is a genuine relief to report that this is a fine album.
The cool surf guitar serves to conjure a cool scene, a downbeat day at the beach where all the morons are at work or have stayed at home. There is no dog shit in this sand.
My own personal highlight is the dirty work out of “Tummy Hop” that is classic K, classic Olympia and, dare I say, classic grunge in the style of Some Velvet Sidewalk or Mudhoney. Then as “What Was Me” plays out Calvin has achieved the almost perfect ending to an album with its Velvet Underground overtones and smarts.
This is a record for sensible haircuts everywhere.
Thesaurus moment: sandy.
Calvin Johnson
K Records
Never failing to enthuse and as ever sounding as if straight from the greatest surf bikini movie never made here is the latest outing of Mr Johnson. This is happily a very beach party record for those afraid to remove their shirts and expose their bodies. Surfers and beatniks make for a great combination.
As some kind of weird crooner Calvin Johnson is second to none, his voice is very distinct, clear and piercing, in a league of its own creating excitement in the hearts of sloppy cats looking for wicked love.
Dated but timeless this collection is trademark K Records, naïve sounding and appearing to exist in its own dimension/reality numbed but not subdued against external forces. This way either the listener can enjoy and indulge or it can clear off.
With this record Calvin is taking the opportunity to run through some of the prize moments from his back catalogue to run through and record Beat Happening, Halo Benders and Go Team songs for the first in a band setting. Great success!
There is something almost seedy in these ambiguous, weird sex songs (“Banana Meltdown”, I ask you). Calvin Johnson these days feels on the verge of turning into an indie pop John Waters figure sticking staunchly to his guns whilst constantly discovering new ammunition. He is remains a real raconteur, using the technique of visionering humour as displayed in the “Cattle Call” breaks/breathers. The second of these skits almost sounds like something from Kids In The Hall. It is no secret as to how much influence Calvin Johnson has had on the US independent and college rock scenes (the International Pop Underground) over the past twenty years and these days it feels a rare pleasure to hear a new record of his. And with his reputation being somewhat prickly, it is a genuine relief to report that this is a fine album.
The cool surf guitar serves to conjure a cool scene, a downbeat day at the beach where all the morons are at work or have stayed at home. There is no dog shit in this sand.
My own personal highlight is the dirty work out of “Tummy Hop” that is classic K, classic Olympia and, dare I say, classic grunge in the style of Some Velvet Sidewalk or Mudhoney. Then as “What Was Me” plays out Calvin has achieved the almost perfect ending to an album with its Velvet Underground overtones and smarts.
This is a record for sensible haircuts everywhere.
Thesaurus moment: sandy.
Calvin Johnson
K Records
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