Dark White

MOPS - Psychedelic Sounds in Japan (1968)

Much has been written about Japan's "G.S." (Group Sounds) scene that emerged shortly after the Beatles' 1966 performance at Tokyo's legendary Budo Kan Hall-- so allow me to pound my fist on the table and exclaim, "They are full of shit!" I've heard most of 'em-- be it the Spiders, Tempters, Golden Cups, Bunnys etc., ad nauseum-- and the sad but honest truth is that the majority of it is absolute swill. The "rocking" (I use the term very loosely here) stuff is stiff and soulless and those ballads... oh fucking man... those horrific ballads. We're talkin' the kinda tripe granny & gramps would have no trouble doing the chicken or stroll to, BUT NOT any self-respecting Rock 'n' Roller! You're being sold a bill of goods by collector scum looking to jack up the prices of the original pressings-- I don't care how much of a Nipponphile you happen to be, stay away-- much of it has more in common with pathetic schmaltz-meisters like Wayne Newton than the Pretty Things. Granted, I hate that mindset "if it comes from country A or B it's gotta be good!" so mebbe I shouldn't be so generous with my always sterling consumer advice.

So, with some reservations I recommend the Mops. Like so many of their G.S. brethren, they were obsessed with their American & British beat/psych counterparts-- padding out their albums with some completely unnecessary covers. Do you really need another version of "Light My Fire" (though the Mops' version has a fiery guitar solo that stomps the balls offa Krieger)? How about "Somebody to Love"? Didn't think so. On the other hand, their take on the Animals' "Inside Looking Out" rocks quite righteously-- too bad they stick to "locks & sand"; Grand Funk hadn't introduced the infamous "nickel bags" line yet. Their original material fares far better-- they stir some traditional Japanese folk melodies into their lysergic stew (the lyrics are in their native tongue as well for the most part), sounding like an embryonic version of the Godzilla-meets-Black-Sabbath crunch later taken to (much) loftier heights by Flower Travellin' Band on "Satori."

Standout track: Undoubtedly their "theme" song, "I Am Just a Mops," (sic sic sic!) which takes a dilapidated Diddley-beat, infuses it with some nice tremelo fuzz, and sadly confesses (I think) a tale of teenage trauma. In this case, the perpetual melancholy that awaits those who are... a Mops (sniff). Keep in mind that transcendent moments like this are the exception, not the rule. For the most part, this is music executed with polite professionalism-- not inspired madness (but I know damn well you Japanese R&R freaks are gonna want it anyway).

Look in comments.


BONNIWELL MUSIC MACHINE - Ignition

"Talk Talk" sits high atop the Mt. Olympus of 60's Garage-Punk Greatness-- very seldom will you hear me use the adjective "perfect" to describe a ditty, but when it comes to the aforementioned monster, there's simply no other term available. It is so brilliant that it has dwarfed its creators-- forever hurling 'em into the "one hit wonder" trash heap-- so much so, that Music Man Sean Bonniwell abandoned the business in the early 70's, sold off all of his possessions and embarked on a long spiritual odyssey that ended with his conversion to a deity I'd sooner not discuss (all religions are like anathema to me). Sadly for Mr. Bonniwell & Co., they arrived at a time that stressed the importance of the hit single over the LP.

Amazingly, this collection of rarities works as an album, despite varying time-lines and lineups (1965-69, three different memberships, from the Ragamuffins to the little-heard third Machine). Why? The answer is simple: The songs are magnificent! In Bonniwell, the Machine possessed not only a gifted vocalist capable of whispering sweet nothings and spitting venom with equal aplomb, but a tunesmith par excellence. Take for example "Black Snow," the saga of a blind man-- supposedly inspired by a chance meeting Bonniwell had with José Feliciano: It begins as a surreal montage of Guile Wisdom's suffocatingly fervent power chords and Bonniwell's agonizing vocal, ever-growing in intensity to the nigh-unbearable breaking point before granting a brief reprieve with a slowly-simmering guitar solo. But this is merely a break in the clouds, not lasting sunshine as what sounds like an electronic timer begins its countdown growing louder and louder as the song reaches its thundering climax-- relentless bass drums enter the fray, accentuating Bonniwell's shriek which by this point, has become positively catatonic. Whew! I need to take a breath after writing that (even though I have by no means done the song justice)!

The true Crown Jewel of this opus (and title of this post) is "Dark White," a slow-burner boiling over with sexual tension. This time out, Bonniwell adopts a soulful croon, relating the mini-drama of a "part girl, all woman" who's been keeping him awake at night. Delving into her neuroses ("She feels lost & abandoned") he finds himself transformed from Hunter into Hunted, consumed by his lust, yet enraptured by her damaged psyche as equally... helplessly caught in a web he thought he'd been weaving (can any of you boys relate?). However, before you get too uncomfortable, the rest of the band joins in with backing vox that resemble nothing so much as a choir of androids, and, as if to solidify my analogy, Wisdom's guitar tears off some licks heavily-treated to mimic the sound of a raygun (particularly of the 50's Z-Grade, sci-fi flick variety). My all-time favorite Music Machine creation.

Look in the comments and do some "Talk Talking" while yer in there!