www.zerecords.com CAN YOU IMAGINE ALL THAT MILK? The year was 1980, and Detroit was getting ready to play host to thousands of Re- publican conventioneers who were holding their quadrennial shindig in the Motor City. In a breathtaking moment of silliness, someone decided to install brand-new awnings CAN WE WHO on the windows of the recently abandoned Statler Hotel, so as not to offend any of the visiting GOP functionaries with the depressing urban financial realities of the day. Meanwhile, the members of Detroit band Was (Not Was) were engaging in a bold mu- sical experiment, splicing the genes of jazz, rock, R&B, and funk. With their futuristic grooves and intelligent (if twisted) lyrics, Was (Not Was) didn’t hide the local decay MAN TH E SHIP behind fake awnings. It gathered its ethnically diverse ranks, dressed the decay up in some fine threads and took it out dancing. The band’s ringleaders were Don Was (Donald Fagenson) and David Was (David Weiss). These brothers (of the soul variety) were in a good position to point out the absurdities of American life in the early ‘80s. Hailing from the scrubbed inner-ring De- OF STATE DENY troit suburb of Oak Park, the pair met in eighth grade, appropriately enough when they were both waiting in the principal’s office for discipline. The young friends cut their teeth listening to the homegrown sounds of Motown singles and the MC5. Add plenty of LSD and a healthy dose of the Firesign Theater to their natural mischievousness, mix well, and you’ve got a good idea of the part of the woodwork these freaks creaked IT IS SOME WHAT out of. Don spent some time as a journeyman jazz player around Detroit, while David moved to Los Angeles and worked as a jazz critic for the Herald Examiner. But the pair kept in touch and eventually formed the band in a bid to go down in glory. Along the way, OUT OF CONTROL they assembled a crack team of musicians, including glorious frontman Sweet Pea Atkinson, a former Detroit auto worker whose rich vocal qualities recall Otis Red- Ronald Reagan • State of the Union Message ding or Sam Cooke. Also bringing soul to the ensemble was former O’Jays singer Sir Harry Bowens. The rock edge came from ex-MC5 guitarist Wayne Kramer, while the on Economic Recovery • February, 18. 1981 jazz tinge came from trumpeter Marcus Belgrave who performed for decades with the bands of Charles Mingus and Ray Charles. Parliament/Funkadelic’s flamboyant percussionist Larry Fratangelo brought the funk, and the group was rounded out by saxman David McMurray, guitarist Randy Jacobs, and pianist Luis Resto. It would be hard to understand the self-titled debut album by Was (Not Was) apart from its political context-especially with Brother Wayne in tow. (As John Sinclair noted when talking about music and politics in the liner notes of the MC5’s Kick Out the Jams, « There is no separation »). But the band steered clear of didactic rambling, instead choosing to work in character studies. There’s motorcycle Michael who hasn’t been the same since Vietnam. There’s the chick from Ecuador who wants to talk about the moon. There’s the father who hallucinates that the sky is ablaze with ladies’ legs. All of them are interesting characters, if slightly askew. It may have been 13 years after the rebellion that saw the Motor City burn when this record came out, but Ronald Reagan was soon to win the nomination and declare it « morning in America. » But if it was morning in America, it sure seemed pitch black in the Motor City. In fact, even Reagan acknowledged that not all was right. “Can we who man the ship of state deny it is somewhat out of control?” he asked in his State of the Union address on economic recovery in 1981. A sample of that assessment features prominently in the Was (Not Was) cut « Tell Me That I’m Dreaming, » Another line from that same song seems to sum up the ‘80s gimmie gimmie gimmie culture. The song asks: « One man liked milk, now he owns a million cows. Can you imagine all that milk? » Sure. But where do I get me a glass? Now that we’ve got the context out of the way, we can talk about the music. This de- but Was (Not Was) album is a glorious postmodern statement. The nuclear glow over suburbia on the front cover is an invitation to the party. All of the earmarks of later Was (Not Was) were there: the cast-of-thousands backing band, the razor blade smile lyr- ics, the burbling funk. It was that kind of metallic cool that only really plays in Detroit and Europe. This set begins with « Out Come the Freaks, » an essential cut that comes off as a dance manifesto. Next up is « Where Did Your Heart Go, » a dark, sinister, steamy- manhole, sunglasses-at-night soundtrack to the rain-soaked streets of a blaxploita- tion thriller. On the aforementioned « Tell Me That I’m Dreaming, » Don Was crafts a bassline every bit as catchy and primal as « Flashlight » or « Good Times/Rapper’s Delight » behind surreal lyrics. « Oh, Mr. Friction » closes out the first side of the vinyl. The flip begins with « Carry Me Back to Old Morocco, » a soaring cut filled with mystery. « It’s an Attack, » is a hard funk ode to paranoia, while « The Sky’s Ablaze » is a noir radio thriller. Closing out the album is « Go…Now » is a powerful, fist-of-god stomp that showed a sense of hope alongside the postmodern angst. Kramer plays a blister- ing solo that dissolves into a wash of hard funk horns. Goosebump time!Rounding out this release are some remixes and other hard-to-find tracks including three remixes of « Tell Me that I’m Dreaming » and two remixes of « Out Come the Freaks. » Among the notable songs are « Wheel Me Out » and « Hello operator...I mean dad...I mean police... I can’t even remember who I am, » which comprised the first Was (Not Was) single on ZE Records. The band submitted a demo tape with a letter from the jazz critic of the LA Herald Examiner (who, you’ll remember happened to be David Weiss). Also included is « Dance or Die » from Sweet Pea Atkinson’s solo album « Don’t Walk Away, » (which, inshallah, will be re-released in its entirety someday). A few years after this record was first unleashed, the inventors of Detroit Techno began mining for butt-shakin’ gold. But many of those aesthetic innovations were al- ready present in the oeuvre of Was (Not Was)-the cool, metallic sheen; the futuristic settings; the strange voices, the infectious hooks. Now, 23 years later, those tattered awnings still hang on the Statler, which is still empty and decaying. But this music is more durable. So enjoy, and if we’re lucky and dance all night, maybe when we leave the club it really will be morning in America. Brian J. Bowe, Editor in Chief CREEM Magazine : January, 2004. OUT COME THE FREAKS She wants to talk about the moon, Rock and roll can’t teach me OH, MR. FRICTION! She says it used to be her frien What the river said that night When the sun goes down they hit the streets But the doctors put an end to all of that I jumped into its beauty Drink from bottle when I home alone In the bars to try and meet A part of me is lost for good And drifted out of sight Spank the kids with a fork Some other stranger to ease the pain Do you really understand Run the appliances high-speed all day I do says Johnny Of living alone ‘till it drives them insane TELL ME THAT I’M DREAMING Switch stations every 5 seconds The woodwork squeaks As he grabs her hand And out come the freaks I pulled into your town We are mostly mute with one another Yeah, the woodwork squeaks WHERE DID YOUR HEART GO ? Saw two signs Sounds of unexpected voices shock us And out come the freaks “West and West” Talk is rarely squandered Where did your heart go? Tell me that I’m dreaming is it a favor or a threat? Like little Michael on his motorcycle Did you put it on a train? Turned down a “No-way street” Long term plan or just a scam? With leather pants & a leather brain Did you leave it in the rain And saw another sign What’d you say? He ain’t never been the same since Vietnam Or down in Mexico? “Drive in reverse” Say it over! Keeps his heart locked-up in a vest Or something like it You know, your hands give you away And his eyes inside his shoes I spend my nights down on the wharf (We talked like men Is it evil or selfish or for criminal gain? Doesn’t ever want to lose them in a fight In unlit alleyways And ate fish at the end of the pier) If it takes 20 seconds You never know what might go down tonight Next to the church downtown can you repeat it again? Where Sally prays I tried to walk, but how ? The woodwork squeaks Come down sometime The rest of you were dancing What’s it mean And out come the freaks We’ll eat a rusty can of corn With pointy shoes on Straight out with it And listen to the radio Somebody pinch me Or don’t say it at all Open the door & there’s Suzanne I love you, I love you Am I -- ? I can take it, She eats her breakfast from the pan It says Was I ? Call me Judas She never even burns her tongue Did I -- away the night ? I’m a bastard, And someday she’d like to Where did your heart go? I’ll admit it Get hung up on a millionaire Did you put it on a train? New Shoes, laser breakfast, I’m Mr.