GUNS
Reviewer: Marine Creature (London UK).
When you hear the music journalist phrase ‘that difficult second album’, spare a thought for Cardiacs, a band who have been around in one form or another since 1977, generating around a dozen full length live and studio albums. Unsigned (apart from a month-long spell with Rough Trade) and unsupported by the mainstream press, their creativity and originality has simply renewed itself with each new collection of songs. Over a decade of first-listens of Cardiacs albums, I’ve expected some sort of tiredness to creep in at some point – after all, how many bands/artists of any kind do you know have kept up levels of interest over such a length of time? Their previous album, ‘Sing To God’, (originally released as a double cd) I found unfocused and, save for tracks such as ‘Dog Like Sparky’ and ‘Foundling’ a little less emotionally intense on first listen,in places too much like what you would expect Cardiacs to sound like, though over the passing months the whole album grew and grew on me (a typical Cardiacs response). But Guns… Guns opens up a whole new vista; it does things that you never heard Cardiacs do before, but in a way that has an unbreakable core of personality. It is at once both more accessible and more experimental than previous albums: it has gone to a new place, somewhere less jerky and frantic but wilder and scarier. The ska rythmns that used to be such an important part of the recipe but were missing from more recent songs are back, but in a mellower, more thoughtful way; the tunes, as ever, are stunning, every one an earworm no matter how complex. ‘Clammy Lammy’ is the anthem to end all anthems; ‘There’s Good Cud’ and ‘Clean That Evil Mud Out Of Your Soul’ are pure intricate Zappa-but-English eccentric joy. And ‘Jitterbug (Junior Is a)’ literally had us sitting with our mouths open – a song of two halves, the first classic intricate, anthemic Cardiacs, the second an hypnotic, ecstatic hymn-like round that defies comparison to anything, maybe minimalist systems with a deeply romantic heart. You have to ask yourself if the near total rejection of Cardiacs by mainstream music press in the UK, and the resultant somewhat poverty-sticken, underground existence of Tim Smith and the various extremely talented musicians that make up what everyone calls Cardiacs’ Family, has preserved the creativity of Tim, ‘new boy’ Jon Poole and William D Drake (who despite being an ‘ex-’ Cardiac, has never quite left). The shame is that so many people are gasping for music like this – music that manages to be experimental… with soul…
CARDIACS
‘Guns’
The Alphabet Business Concern
ALPHCD 027
5 028563 256523
CD-only album
(Ungph. Grunt.) Hmp. Y’little bastards.
Why must Cardiacs make such wantonly evasive and cryptic records? All right, I know. Because that’s what we want of them. We want someone writing flagrantly counter- commercial songs which still stick to your ears, an exhilarating stiff middle-finger to pop’s critical establishment and to the inflexible rules they’ve laid down about how music needs to work. And it’s good seeing Cardiacs sailing past those buggers every time. Still here, still breaking those rules left, right and centre. But with "Guns" (scrunch… umph…) they’ve excelled themselves in their eccentricity. In spite of the stockpile of masterful tunes, trying to dig the meaning out of this album is to force yourself deeper into a prickly hedge in desperate pursuit of something that ducks and dodges faster than you ever could. Cardiacs’ ‘Guns’ Meanwhile Tim Smith and his fellow Cardiacs - transformed into little furry woodland creatures with bright eyes and twitchy tails - wriggle, giggle and flirt just out of reach of your straining fingertips, but dare you on with their strangely serious button-black eyes…
As I said - y’little bastards. But bleeding fingers or not, I’ll have you yet.
And it is surprising just how cryptic "Guns" is. By far the most lyrically impenetrable album Cardiacs have ever come up with - which is saying something - and with drummer Bob Leith adding his own demented touch to Tim’s wordplay. Unravelling it sees the usual Cardiacs obsessions surface. The general mess and clutter of homes and living bodies; troubled Tommies in the trenches of the Somme; being alive and being dead. And that peculiar churchiness - bits of hymns; baptism and cleansing; phrases that ring notes off your soul as if they were torn from the books of your childhood. Or can only be understood if you catch them from the corner of your ear.
Perversely, the music is more rough-edged, more stubbly, more direct than it’s been for a while. After the opulence of 1995’s "Sing To God", "Guns" is something of a throwback to "Heaven Born And Ever Bright"’s economical, choppy metallic attack. Although the sinister boiling keyboards are a new development; and the band’s regimental discipline is more leery, more blootered and staggered than ever before. Jon Poole’s riotous guitar outdoes itself in yells, squeaks, and car-crash solos - on the thrash’n'twang of "There’s Good Cud" in particular, or the final leaping assault on "Will Bleed Amen" alongside the acidic spray of organ.
For the softer side, the bizarre Sunday school anthem "Wind And Rains Is Cold" moves along on a gentle reggae kick, occasional Cardiac Sarah Smith offering a sugary little girl voice. The starveling prog-folk of "Clean That Evil Mud Out Your Soul" twitches and twiddles guiltily after heaven, naive kiddie choruses plodding on after the whole-tone flourishes of guitar and organ. And there is, still, the enormous Cardiacs psychedelic epic: this time "Jitterbug", seven and a half minutes of careening chant and organ, backward-flipped horns and string quartet, and a horde of frayed guitar interjections and baroque classical vamps. It sounds like Yes wrestling Roky Erickson, and has a protracted tailout of sing-song free- association. It’s rather good.
There’s even two singles on "Guns", even more unlikely than you could expect. "Sleep All Eyes Open", is a stomping, handclapping Glitter Band-y blast of pagan glam with lyrics like two mediaeval clowns fighting over a Beckett script. The other - "Signs" - couldn’t care less about the charts. The beginning sprawls lazily and rhythmless in a lo-fi quagmire of messy guitar, scratchy voice and a rhythm section who haven’t even bothered to turn up. Cardiacs, looking even more loutish than usual Though as soon as your back’s turned it’s up and pumping, the band’s locked dead in and Tim’s hollering the enamel off his teeth about saviour’s kisses, germs and threats. "Ah, kiss me, I’m sore."
Perverse… but well, it’s Cardiacs. Now if I can just get myself a little deeper into this sodding hedge and get to the heart of things…
Deeper inside. Things get even stranger and more sinister. Beyond the grinding jumpiness of "Spell For A Shell", unbelievably, is a love song dealing with a child’s psychotic, possessive love for a pet, in which protection, murder and fears of abandonment are dangerously overlapped. Persecution rears up in "Cry Wet Smile Dry", fighting off a storm of demands in a creaky wallop of chanting and beat-band riffs. Though the cute, bobbing idea for "Ain’t He Messy Though" could have been dug out of "Penny Lane" (after a mischievous Smith Brothers mugging of Paul McCartney), it also hints of lynchings: and "Song Of A Dead Pest" is a macabre sketch of a severed head and a haunting in which a ghost must be laid. And the brassy, swinging "Come Back Clammy Lammy" - devious catchiness, horn razzing and 5/4 stomp - conceals a catalogue of horrors and hilarity. Soldiers tease each other while their bums are blown off, and people drown or are consumed only to bounce off heaven and leap back as gibbering ghosts.
But the keynote isn’t a scream of terror or even a ghost- train giggle. It’s a bizarre sense of cameraderie, bonds and recognitions stronger than embarrassment, estrangement, or death. Cardiacs get abused for avoiding politic stances, for avoiding luxuriance and love ballads, for (if all else fails) avoiding the direct dumb pleasures of the Ramones tradition. It’s a shame that more people don’t realise that Cardiacs bypass such things because they’re already plugged into something older: universal and instinctive, shared without realising, and, yes, as perverse as you like, bubbling up underneath the mash of sticky words.
In part, it’s the look in the eye of a child who hasn’t yet figured out the moves, reactions and learned instincts he’s supposed to have down pat by the time he’s grown. In a greater part, though, it’s the murky reactions, both sinister and benevolent, that travel with us even when we have grown. And which link these music - off-the-wall and ludicrous as it frequently appears - with that essential spark of humanity. We might choose to skip along outside the tangle of prompts and meanings from our world, the lurkers in the thicket of our psyche. Cardiacs make their home in it, and always have done; and every so often they’ll extend a horny finger and hook you back in.
"Psst… wanna dig in the mud?"
"OK, Tim."
A swish of motion, a crackle of branches, and you’re gone. Distant threshing from inside the twigs and tendrils, then a giggle of wordless revelation from the bustle in the hedgerow.
(DANN CHINN)
GUNS
Reviewer: Professor Z “Zeus” (Winnipeg, MB Canada).
Another Cardiacs diamond.
There can be little argument that Cardiacs are the most brilliantly inventive and underrated group of “rock” musicians in existence. Throughout their long career (around 20 yrs) and a number of personnel changes they have produced a body of work astounding in its originality, musical power and ingenuity. Driving force Tim Smith, deranged genius who has been referred to as the Beethoven of rock music, is able to consistently come up with musical compositions which are startlingly innovative, yet immediately recognizable as the unique Cardiacs style.
Ludwig van Smith excels at melding martial rhythms, exultant melodies, hyperkinetic time signatures and unforgettable sonic images into a framework of childlike wonderment and terror. The band has always comprised a group of amazing musicians who can take these compositions and turn them into songs of unbelievable cerebral and visceral impact.
Their live appeal has been legendary, crossing many musical genre boundaries – legions of avid (rabid?) fans from the worlds of punk, metal and prog rock. Lucky b**tards who’ve seen the band live – I can imagine weeping while slam dancing! Their record sales, on the other hand, have been abysmal largely due to notoriously bad luck with record companies. Committed fans, like me, have been able to track down most of their earlier CD recordings (10 including a “Greatest Hits” and a “Sampler”) through eBay, Amazon.uk, 2nd hand music shops and the All My Eye And Betty Martin website.
For those of you willing to sample this band’s output, “Guns” is a great, accessible way to start – an exciting mix of styles from the Cardiacs’ stylebook. There’s raw punk – rockabilly – thrash in “There’s Good Cud”, piano balladry in “Winds and Rains is Cold”, anthemic psychedelia in “Jitterbug (junior is a)”, hard driving rock (great sax riff courtesy of Mrs. Sarah Smith) in “Come Back Clammy Lammy” and raw emotional power in “Signs” – a diverse collection but all unified within the Cardiacs unique sound envelope. Once you’ve listened and you’re hooked on the Cardiacs sound, try working backwards through their discography.
Many claim “Sing to God” to be the band’s masterpiece but there is a special place in my heart for every one of their CDs I’ve been able to get a hold of. If you’re enthralled with “Guns” I’d recommend tracking down the “Greatest Hits” CD – a truly astonishing package which showcases the band’s genius over a roughly 20 yr timescale. After that – anything you can get your hands on!
God Bless the Cardiacs.
CARDIACS – GUNS (Alphabet)
USA
We first heard about the Cardiacs from our friend Jussi From Circle. He didn’t really give us much to go on, just told us to find Cardiacs records. So when I was in England last year I looked everywhere for Cardiacs records. No stores stocked them, no one had even heard of them. Rough Trade? Nope. Record And Video Exchange? Nope. So on a whim I went into Tower Records, and whhattayaknow, the Cardiacs had their own big ol’ section.
So I bought 4 of the 8 records they had in stock, without even knowing what they sounded like. The guy I was staying with was not at all impressed, telling me “Nobody likes the Cardiacs”. But when I finally got down to listening to them, boy was I pleasantly surprised. Somehow not at all what I expected, but that only made me like it more. It’s definitely pop, but it’s not pop like you or I know it, it’s freaked out, complex, super dynamic, totally catchy, weird vocals, drums, high pitched lead vocals, carnivalesque, bombastic kick ass sort-of-power-pop. It’s really hard to describe.
When I brought my copy to play for people in the store, every couple of minutes someone walked up wanting to buy whatever it was we were playing. So finally, we were able to get enough copies to list and let you all get your grubby litttle paws on this demented pop goodness.
Think the Pixies meets the Sweet meets the Toy Dolls meets Uz Jsme Doma meets Queen meets the Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack meets XTC but more punk rock, and more prog, or something like that. With totally unlikely but irresistible melodies, squiggly guitars, circus organs, the occasional children’s choir (?), drumming that is so stuttery and precise it sounds like it must be a drum machine, burbly spaced out ambient keyboards, completely fucked lyrics and amazing vocals and harmonies. It’s like power-pop-prog-ska (sort of like the way Uz Jsme Doma sounded ska) punk craziness. Goes from manic and intense to throbbing and dreamy at the drop of a dime. I think this band was ‘big’ for a while in the UK which is why my hipster friends scoffed, but to be honest I can’t understand why they’re not still big, or big here too. Just a little too weird, methinks.
‘Guns’ is my favorite record of the bunch. Just listen to the sound sample for the song ‘There’s Good Cud’. One of the most perfect pop songs I’ve ever heard. Weird and damaged but totally catchy and fun. Sort of like the whole record. And the sample after that ‘Wind And Rains Is Cold’ shows the softer (but no less weird) side of the Cardiacs. Lilting pop loveliness wrapped in a warped rock framework. This record totally rules.
Cardiacs
Guns (1999)
review by: Jason Thornberry USA
Somehow the Cardiacs have made a long career out of being ‘obscure’. They sold a few records, opened for Blur, have a great website (cardiacs.com), and are on their eleventh album, yet after hearing great things about them through a friend of mine in England, I spent five years looking for them. Being a California resident, I was finally lucky enough to get ahold of the “Sampler” cd. It’s sad that a band as incredibly talented as the Cardiacs have to linger in obscurity while the Backstreet Boys hog the charts. Globally.
To the average person, this group specializes in ‘math-rock’. Herky, jerky, trebly, stop-start rhythms, odd-time frames that leap out of nowhere, exasperated vocals, and sea-chanty back-ups that would make the Toy Dolls stop writing Agnes Has Anal Lice and take notice. An album that, at first, will go way over your head. The key to the Cardiacs is how great the songs really are. Stripped of the 5/4 time interludes, and wacko arrangements, songs like “Sleep All Eyes Open” are brutally fantastic. Beautiful in their attention to detail. Like the world’s biggest relief map. Up close.
Guns (IMPORT)
Cardiacs
Reviewer: Owlberg (Seattle, WA USA).
More accessible, in a definite Cardiacs way.
Those enamoured of Cardiacs previous release (the career-defining SING TO GOD double album) may find this incarnation of the band potentially disappointing, as the trademark manic pace and over-the-top arrangements have been replaced with moments of downright drowsy tempos and stripped-down compositions. However, it’s all a matter of how much latitude one allows one’s favorite band to grow and change, and some changes here are very agreeable. Guest Cardiac Joanne Spratley seems to have added some warmth to the proceedings; “Clean That Evil Mud Out Your Soul” has the feel of a long-lost psychedelic classic along the lines of “Incense and Peppermints” or a garage-band nugget like “Liar, Liar”, and the heart-stopping choral segment close to the end of “Signs” is the sonic equivalent of a sunbreak in the midst of a hailstorm. No, GUNS isn’t SING TO GOD Pt.III, and for those of us who have followed Cardiacs for awhile, it’s not too surprising. Listen to ARCHIVE (early Cardiacs treasures from the late 70’s) and you’ll see why: this is a band that is at it’s best when they’re challenging both themselves and their audiences.
GUNS
Reviewer: W. Boumans.
Cardiacs, a category by themselves. Compared to their older work they have grown, both in song quality as well as sound quality. Just slightly less impressive as their previous album (Sing to God part I & II). Buy this!
An astonishing album. An astonishing band
GUNS
Reviewer: Tryptikon (Western AR, USA)
Improving on the genius that was Cardiacs’ previous offering “Sing to God Parts I and II”, would be like “improving” perfection. So I was not suprised when I experienced a little letdown with this CD. Don’t get me wrong though- a so-so Cardiacs album is tons better than 98% of the music that is churned out each year, and this album is no exception. All of the classic Cardiacs ingredients- the outstanding musicianship, wonderfully quirky pop tunes, crazy time signatures, and strange chord progressions- are here in abundance. I just get the feeling that head Cardiac Tim Smith maybe tries a bit too hard to seperate from, and improve upon “Sing to God”. “Guns” does take on a different flavor with the addition of members from Smith’s “discovered” band, Spratley’s Japs, making for a fuller sound here than on “Sing to God”. Those musicians also bring on more of a “psychedelic” rock approach to the sound than is evident in previous Cardiacs albums. From the standpoint of “what CD should I start with in Cardiacs’ catalog?”, this is probably a pretty good pick, but there are better CDs in their coffer.