SONG OF THE WEEK: “One Big Holiday”
—My Morning Jacket

Rocket From the Crypt
Circa Now + 4
(Swami Records, 2004)

Alas, as it is for many an up-and-coming young band, the ‘Crypt went through major lineup changes almost immediately after Paint was released in 1991. Undaunted, Speedo recruited drummer Atom Willard and Apollo 9, a party pal who also played sax, for the group’s second, seminal release, 1992’s Circa Now! The album is a tight, hard-pop/post-punk melange of catchy, hook-laden mini-anthems that, even a dozen years later, sounds fresh and exciting.

There are several key factors besides the actual music that make Circa Now! both a personal triumph for the band as well as an important historical/pop culture marker for the discerning music fan. Recorded in the Spring of ‘92 at Hollywood’s West Beach Recorders, the album was born amidst the riots, fires, and hatred of L.A.’s Rodney King riots. In the re-issued album’s liner notes, Speedo lays out the terrifying details in all their gory glory—the band was literally quarantined in the studio, under martial law, for days while the sirens screamed and the city burned around them. A small sample: "Cops with riot gear cruised in jeeps barking, ‘Get off the streets! Return to your homes at once!’ Fear was in their voices ... a guy with a Molotov cocktail yelled, ‘Fuck The Police!’ We hightailed it back into the studio and locked the door ..."

Rather than get caught up in needless histrionics, he recalls, the ‘Crypt kicked back and concentrated on finishing their record—a smart collection of (mostly) good-time rockers that, nonetheless, captures a bit of the paranoia and chaos that whirled around outside the studio walls as the tape rolled. And speaking of tape, after recording until nearly 3 a.m., the band noticed that the tape they were using, (Ampex 499) was defective. That’s right, everything they’d layed down that day was slowly crumbling from the edges of the reel, and they were losing the previously recorded drum tracks with every second of guitar, bass, or vocals they laid down.

Against military orders (by now the National Guard had taken over the streets of Hollyweird), producer Donnell Cameron and sax-man Apollo 9 hopped on a motorcycle and hightailed it through the smoking streets of L.A. to score new tape and a couple bags of burgers. Once the transfer had been made, things seemed to be going smoothly. They were held indoors under martial law for another two days, in which time they recorded 11 top-notch cuts for what would be their Headhunter/Cargo debut, Circa Now!

And though many fans consider the album some of the band’s finest material, Speedo himself is stoic about the album, shrugging, "[It] captures RFTC before we had clarity—a snapshot of impulsive reactions taken during a surreal moment. It isn’t the best work we have ever done, due in part that it predates JC2000 (Horn player JC, the band’s sixth member, joined in 1994) and his influence on our band ... [it] precedes the era of militant rehearsal regimes, our synchronized dress sense and before we committed ourselves to a lifestyle that would have us entertaining the globe. Some of the sounds, songwriting, and aesthetics on this record are a bit dated. Although we surely weren’t the first to employ the distorted vocal technique, it certainly wasn’t the national pastime that it would soon become ..."

Which brings us to the next phenomenon to surround the release of Circa Now! By 1993, the album had circulated in hip enough circles that it caught the attention of blood-thirsty A&R reps around the country. While Nirvana, Soundgarden, and Alice in Chains were sweeping across the airwaves of the world and changing the face of corporate rock, bands like RFTC were quietly toiling away in the trenches, playing club shows and festivals for relative chump change and happily pleasing their small but loyal fan bases. Their reward? An all-out bidding war between major labels for the rights to Circa Now! that left Interscope Records the winner(?), paying an obscene $70 million to sign the band and $32 million to Cargo for the album.

The label then asked Speedo and the gang to head back in the studio and record a few more tracks for the major-label re-issue of the album. The band did as they were asked, but in the furor of the "Alternative Revolution," the label went ahead and released the record (without informing the artists) as it was. As a result, four songs have sat in the vaults for the past decade or so—hence the re-worked 2004 title, "+4." There’s one last note to the tale of this album, though, and Speedo says it best in the CD liner notes: "Returning to the studio gave us the opportunity to prove our stupidity. In an attempt to save 150 bucks, we opted to use the spare tape at the end of the Circa reels. In nine months we had forgotten the fact that this tape was defective and weren’t reminded until it was too late. We realized our mistake as large chunks of tape flew off the machine during mixdown. The majority of the drums had been erased and our work had been in vain. This tape has lived in the vaults of Universal Records for 11 years ..."

So there ya go. All that remains to this story (the story of this album, not RFTC, who released their most popular work to date in 1994’s Scream, Dracula, Scream, are still going strong, and recently released a kick-ass live album, 2002’s Live From Camp X-Ray) is the music itself. Was the album really worth $102 million? Is any album? Come on. It’s good stuff, much better than a lot of the crap that was floating around in the early ‘90s, but $102 million? Even Speedo admits that the tracks weren’t representative of the band’s best work. But, in the immortal words of my ol’ drinkin’ buddy, Mr. G. Wine, "It’s still a pretty good record." And it is.

Ripping outta the speakers with a Cobain-sneer and a not-so-veiled axe threat, "Shortlipfuser" is a crunching, raging slice of early ‘90s angst that sets the pace for the entire Circa Now! album. Smart lyrics—this time out dealing with domestic violence—augment this snotty, sax-fueled saga. “Hippy Dippy Do" lightens things up a notch, with upbeat, smart-ass vocals (them damn hippies!) riding springy, hook-y guitars and rattling snare.

"Ditchdigger," the album’s near-hit song (it received limited airplay on MTV and on select "alt-rock" stations around the country) is an undeniable classic. Gliding out on a snake-y riff and quickly morphing into anthem-status, the track encapsulates the glorious melding (and wasn’t it about goddamn time by then) of kickass hard rock, garage punk, and mega-guitar-pop into one sticky, gooey, tasty ball that some lazy writer dubbed "alternative." Yep, it was alternative, alright. Alternative to BAD music. Otherwise, this track, and most of the other really decent music that came to light in the early-to-mid ‘90s, can be categorized as simply REALLY GOOD ROCK MUSIC.

Other standouts on Circa Now! include the driving, pulsating "Don’t Darlene," the Cramps-esque psycho-surf-rawk of "Killy Kill," and especially the over-the-top, beach-ball-in-the-air anthem of "Hairball Alley." This cut positively rings out with an undeniable joy and finds Speedo gleefully using that "distorted vocal" technique he rants about in Circa’s liner notes to the fullest effect. Totally crank-able, and it hasn’t lost any of it’s urgency or energy over the past decade, either.

"Sturdy Wrist" is trippy enough to stand next to a Cows track on a post-punk comp mix, "Little Arm" brings things down a notch; a twisted teen-death ballad for Christina Ricci and Donnie Darko to sway in the shadows to, and "Dollar" grinds its way into your consciousness with the refrain, "Yeah, yeah, you’ll be sorry..." But if you’ve made it this far into the record, you surely won’t be and aren’t. Sorry, that is. Because the last track on the proper album is probably one of the most perfect album-enders of the past decade (give or take a year or two), and says it all about the Lollapalooza years in the same way Country Joe & The Fish, New Riders Of The Purple Sage, or Dr. Hook had said it about the Woodstock generation 25 years earlier.

"Glazed" is the ultimate stoner rock track, replete with head-banging power chords, ubiquitous dope references, and a green-bud vibe that could probably alert pot-sniffing dogs from three states away. The cut fairly wobbles through its initial verses and choruses, then simply swirls and twirls like so much smoke in a four-foot bong until it’s down to a cacophony of beats, bass, and shouts: "Everybody smoke pot ! Everybody smoke pot ! Everybody smoke pot !" A perfect aural snapshot of the summer of the drugs, when riots overtook the streets of La La Land, when a fresh-faced Shannon Hoon still toured the country crooning "No rain...," when seeing Neil Young, Beck, Ben Folds Five and Morphine all at the same outdoor gig was not only a possibility, but a reality. When record companies still thought investing $102 million in an unknown garage/punk band was a smart investment. And you know what? I couldn’t agree more.

Toss in the four bonus tracks ("Lamps For Sale," "Crazy Talk," "Flight Of The Hobo," and "Over The Rail," all tasty stuff, especially for fan-atics of the band, but not key to the original album), and this record is not only most certainly worth the $12 or so it cost back in 1992, but is also very likely worth the $18.99 or so you’ll pay for it today. Of course, the album’s back on a dedicated, artist-friendly imprint- Swami Records—these days, and the wonks from Interscope have probably long forgotten about it as they desperately bid for contracts with recent American Idol winners for sums upwards of $500 million ... Man, if that don’t make ya pine for 1993, nothing will. Me, I’ll take Speedo’s words of wisdom to heart, and advise you to do the same: "CRANK IT OR SPANK IT!!"

That’s it for me this time around, kidz. Tune in next week for more record reviews, rock ’n’ roll news, an’ big city blues. Until we meet again—make yer own damn news. ||

If you have local music news/gigs/CDs/conspiracies you’d like to see mentioned in this column, or you’d just like to complain that your one monkey did, in fact, stop a show, send replies to: (temporary e-mail) jamescrouch_1@juno.com.