Y’know what was cool in the late 1960s? Frank Zappa. Y’know why? ‘Cause he’d discover lunatics like Wild Man Fischer, a paranoid schizophrenic who attacked his mom with a knife and was discovered by Frank Zappa wandering the streets of L.A. And Arthur Brown, too, whose only hit was “Fire.” Dude used to get naked on stage and light his own hair on fire.
Dave Cloud brings to mind dangerous, crazy people like that.
Cloud’s band, The Gospel of Power, is a collective of musicians from bands like Clem Snide, Silver Jews, Lambchop, and Lone Official, who back Dave Cloud’s bizarre, gruffly spoken songs. This is edgy, experimental blues that still has music to it. It’s not just noise, but it is noisy. With lyrics like “Baby I love you! Give me that razzmatazz!” and “I can see those wonderbra super lift cups working out.” Along with weird narratives like “Surfer Joe,” which says: “When it comes to a place to go where it’s hot and dangerous and extremely cheap, I would guess you would be talking about going way deep down south to Mexico. Surfer Joe. Way down in Mexico.” And “Party Party Party,” which sounds like he’s saying “Potty Potty Potty.” It’s extremely weird. Psychedelic weird.
And fascinating.
Tags: Indie rock, Psychedelia
promotional materials call “Pith-Rock” because it is “sharp ‘n’ pointy” or “spongy and permeable,” has a strong sense of feminine identity, mixed with off-beat and cutting reflections on religion, child abuse, and social control. One of my favorite lines is (I think) about Jesus’ death, where she says: “Drop the body, leave the ghost.” It reminds me of the Godfather: “Drop the gun, leave the cannoli.” I don’t know know if that was an intentional reference, but I dig it.
When a band’s name would make an equally good album title, and the band’s album title would make an equally good band name, you should be suspicious that there’s been major label manufacturing at hand. Not so with 
