Origin of the species: Unlike
many bands of the nineties, the rockin' rattle of THE OBLIVIANS seems like
it was conceived in the back of dad's 1955 Savoy while JERRY LEE LEWIS and
LITTLE RICHARD singles vibrated the upholstery. There's way too much in
this sonic stew to nail it down completely, but the echoey pop of sixties
greats like THE TROGGS and teeth-gnashing midwestern punk like THE PAGANS
are swirling around in the mix as well. It's pure and it's loud and the
authorities will be dispatched at some point to stop these whippersnappers
from destroying public property. Does any overlap exist between the caterwauling
of bluesmen like Mississipi Fred McDowell and the snottiness of
THE DEAD BOYS? Somehow these wacky Memphis-based hooligans managed to find it. If RONNIE DEE's "Action Packed" and THE STOOGES "Fun House" both drive you to smash furniture, you'll want to read on.
First, buy: "Soul Food", 1995 - At a time when blistering, pluse-raising rock music seemed to have hung it's "Gone Fishin'" sign on the door, THE OBLIVIANS took the liberty of smashing it down. The thundering drums, elevator-shaft reverb, and ragged tube-driven overdrive in tracks like "I'm Not a Sicko" and "Jim Cole" are bold enough to wake anyone stuck in a radio-induced snooze. The simple, driving riffs are immediately familiar, and the leads cut through the mix like a hot blade through butter. The breaks between the songs are completely unnecessary, cuz this sucka flows so well, you'll never have need for your "skip" button.
Then buy: "Play 9 Songs with Mr. Quintron",
1997 Imagine Bill Haley or Jerry Lee Lewis taking over a TV evangelist
show for half an hour, and you've got a rough idea of how this baby plays
out. Whooda thunk Hammond-driven gospel music and punk rock snarl would
mix together so swimmingly? It only takes one listen to this collaboration
between the Memphis three and New Orleans-based musical mad scientist Mr.
Quintron to realize that gospel garage rock could be just the ticket for
your personal dashboard-thumpin' salvation. If that long-winded "Exile on
Main Street" stuff is too much for ya, try the versions of "Live the Life"
and "What's the Matter Now" contained herein. Now get over to
the record shop and get ye healed.
Then buy: "Sympathy Sessions", 1996
- A compilation of all vinyl seven-inchers and EPs from the Sympathy label,
this 19- track disc is just chock full 'o goodies. Of particular note are
the outstanding tracks included from the "Six of the Best" EP. The slamworthy
RAMONES-style blaster "Shut My Mouth", the wacky sputtering riffs of "Clones",
and the wailing 70s-era vocal/guitar tandem of "What Rock 'n Roll is All
About" are just three reasons why this is a must-have. There are plenty
more, and let's just say that the bad-girl bimbo artwork is...um, hard to
ignore.
Live pick: "Rock 'n Roll Holiday", 1994 - An exhausting high-energy hootenanny of biblical proportions. The boys crash through sixteen tracks of reckless abandon, barely pausing long enough to change broken strings or wipe the sweat out of their eyes. Eric and Greg yowl themselves into laryngitic stupors, then the show really starts. They work the energy level in the small room like grand wizards of the rawk, especially during the high-octane blasters "Shake Your Ass" and "Nigger Rich". Put simply, you have not heard a live show performed properly until you've heard this. Put it somewhere special, and in cases of severe rock 'n roll recession, break glass.
AVOID!: GREG OBLIVIAN AND THE
TIP-TOPS - "Head Shop", 1998 Ummm, yeah. Evidently blowing the roofs off clubs night after night causes some sort of emotional backup on a guy. There's no other explanation for this spooky collection of ALEX CHILTON white-guy soul worship from Greg. Sure, he's practically winking atcha during some of these tongue-in-cheek performances ("Self Indulgent Asshole" is over fifteen minutes of screechy, scrapey noise performed live), but it doesn't divert your attention away from the fact that the music sounds at best rehashed and at worst, just plain shitty.
And in closing: The nineties were an era of music that few people associate with balls-out rockin and naked chicks. If you're one of those types that thinks it was all about flannel and cryin' in your beer, think again. You don't have to be a garage rock purist, or even a garage rock fan to enjoy the simple stripped-down r'n'r delights of this amazing trio; they're sort beyond the whole genre -categorization thing. This is music powerful enough to push the briefcase-carrying accountant to buy a used guitar, learn three chords, and start his own band. Imagine what it could do for you.
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