15. The Stones - See red

from the Dunedin double EP, Flying Nun, 1982

Occasionally I may come across on these pages as a character of somewhat refined tastes but now and again I confess I am partial to a slab of idiot noise.  This derives from formative listening experiences centring on the garage and whirlwind sounds of early Creation and perhaps in particular the Jesus And Mary Chain.  Like the Stooges, the Reid brothers’ chaotic moments of feedback negation had primarily the effect of affirmation, with ‘Never understand’ a joyful rebuke to those who never understood, a celebration of music as raw noise, raw noise as music; music as electric power, whether it shocked or not (and very quickly, it didn’t).  On the evidence of the Dunedin double – and I have very little else to go on, given that it was one of the few occasions they found themselves in a studio – this is also the sensibility of the Stones, from the stripped down appropriation of the name to their melodic recklessness and discordant, youthful sonics.  ‘Punk rock!’ we might have exclaimed in the mid-eighties, using that phrase as an affectionate designation to summon up the best aspects of the previous decade’s big bang, which even then seemed to be long-distant history.  Now of course it would be a hallmark to damn and date a group were anyone unsophisticated enough to use it.  But the kind of group which can channel a limited colour palette into starbursts of barely tonal noise remain few and far between, and I think the Stones must have been one such.

‘See red’ sounds like Iggy Pop meeting the Fire Engines in a wind tunnel.  On the basis of it and the three other songs on Dunedin double together with reports of what they were like live (‘mesmerising’), I surmise that they must have been an influence on the Chills, whose ‘Flame-thrower’ is about as close as a song gets to resembling an object after which it is titled.  And perhaps elements of the Stones’ sound even rubbed off on the Verlaines in those early days.

But sadly the Stones themselves never made it far from the starting block that was Dunedin double.  With 1983’s Another disc, another dollar EP, they folded.  Wayne Elsey then teamed up with former Bored Games colleague Shayne to form the DoubleHappys.  This venture was itself cut short by Wayne’s untimely death in 1985.  Shayne and DoubleHappys’ drummer John Collie went on to form Straightjacket Fits, who definitely had their moments, and made it across to Britain for a Peel session.  It’s in their gene pool that the spirit of Wayne Elsey resides.

There’s a possibility of a live Stones collection appearing at some future point on Failsafe Records, while Flying Nun and other New Zealand music compilations routinely feature them.  So too does the seemingly short-lived but excellent Mixotheque mp3 blog, with ‘Surf’s up’ from Dunedin double lining up in the second of its volumes dedicated to New Zealand music. There you’ll also find a couple of numbers by the Verlaines and one each by the Chills, Bored Games, DoubleHappys and Straitjacket Fits, plus many other Flying Nun favourites, though unfortunately not Sneaky Feelings, polar opposites of the Stones, as part D of this Dunedin double mini-series will reveal.

Don’t send me away

Having listened again to Hallelujah all the way home since I filed my Verlaines post, typically I feel I should have mentioned songs other than those I did, for while there isn’t a weak moment on the LP, particular favourites alternate.  Today they are the thematic reprisal of ‘Death and the maiden’ that is ‘The lady and the lizard’ with its clarinet and cello interludes concluded by the exclamatory ringing of Graeme’s electric guitar, and the deliberate medievalism of ‘Don’t send me away’, where a delicate blend of recorder and Spanish guitar stand in for a lute and prevent the whole from seeming like a mere period piece, even with ‘fa la la lay’ backing vocals and the ‘put me out of my misery’ sentiment.  It’s the prettiest song the Verlaines ever recorded, and at the heart of Hallelujah gives the album just the right amount of breathing space.

Elsewhere, the Verlaines pop up in a much more succinct post than mine at Fire Escape Talking, which rightly points people in the direction of the video for ‘Death and the maiden’ (see also the other YouTube links below).  Meanwhile Alistair continues his fine series of drawings with one inspired by the same song.  And last but not least there’s the first glimpse of a song from the new album Pot boiler (released 10th December) at Flying Nun’s MySpace.

Videos:

• Doomsday
• Anniversary
• Bird-dog

From the Radio With Pictures special Live At Avalon, 1987:

• Only dream left
• Baud to tears
• The ballad of Harry Noryb
• Come Sunday