The Fleshtones “Wheel of Talent”

(Yep Roc) Seeing the Fleshtones last October on their Halloween tour was an eye re-opener. Challenging the Cramps for best garage revivalists of the original punk era, the Fleshtones have been reviving and updating the 60s for so long and so well and that they developed a sound too distinct to be linked to nostalgia or any particular era. However, at some point in the late 90s I saw them and maybe one of us was having a bad night, or maybe I mistook Peter Zaremba’s heavy lids for laziness, but I just wasn’t sold, and have been cooler on them then I should have been for over a decade. My bad! The band was positively electric last year, younger than young bands, groovier than any new act, and just plain powerful. I think it helped that they were promoting an album of silly, ridiculous Halloween music, which allowed them to cut loose. And I think had I not just spun that album continuously (after being won over by the live show) I might be more enthused about their latest solid offering. Not that there’s no silly here (monkey orgasm sounds on “Hipster Heaven” qualify), but this is mostly a more mature, feet on the ground take on Farfisa-fueled surf/garage/punk/R&B/pop. All the playing, singing, harmonies, and rocking out is great here, and I really enjoy this, I’m just such a sucker for novelty that I got spoiled by their monster material. Highlights include lovely guest vocals by Mary of Southern Culture on the Skids, a sincere, non-mawkish ode to the Ramones and both bands shared CBGBs days, and a grand, bombastic opening track about awesome availability. Extra points for attempting a Spanish language track, where they make the correct decision of not using a faux Mexican accent when shouting “allright!”

Dobie Maxwell “Hard Luck Jollies”

(dobiemaxwell.com) After a lifetime in the comedy biz, Midwestern stand-up veteran Dobie Maxwell has released his second ever (and first not sold at truckstops) album, and there a few notable elements to it. The first is that Maxwell, while not a young, edgy, Comedy Central blah blah blah kid, has some serious chops. His decades of comedy experience have helped Maxwell develop his sad sack/hard luck stage persona, Mr. Lucky, which he more poetically calls “The Dented Can,” as in, his less-than-perfect background makes him damaged and less desirable to some, but the soggy green beans inside him are just as delicious as those in the non-dented cans on the full-price shelf. Because the act of standing up in front of a sometimes skeptical, usually inebriated room of yokels and begging them for laughs involves so much vulnerability, desperation, and chance of failure, almost all standup comedy has an undercoat of melancholy and damage, and it’s a real testament to Maxwell that he can combine honest revelations about his challenging childhood and well-honed professional skills to make the old lovable loser character distinct and his own. Another notable thing about this album is that Maxwell is apparently a huge P-Funk fan, though his comedy is not exactly funk adjacent. This is expressed with the P-Funk parody album title, and artwork by Funkadelic gatefold genius Pedro Bell. Even if that’s just a footnote, it’s a big foot that’s pretty notable. Of final notability, Maxwell supplements this live set with a faux radio interview with WGN deejay Jerry Agar, and best yet, following the footsteps of Eddie Murphy, Neil Hamburger and so many others, he has a bonus musical track, though his theme song is more folky than pop radio oriented.

James Wesley Jackson “Live in Chicago”

(jameswesleyjackson.com) Comedy is a craft, so it should follow that the older you get the better you get, but starting in the 60s stand-up and rock ‘n’ roll sort of became intertwined in a way that challenged Borscht Belt traditions to the point that comedy audiences began to value youth and the idea of a comic getting staler the way a band loses vitality sort of took hold (would you rather have seen Cheech and Chong in 1978 or 2013?). This happened in part because comics still regularly opened for wild bands in the 70s, which is where Mr. Jackson comes in. His cerebral yet silly comedy impressed George Clinton and P-Funk, and the aspiring magician who only took up comedy when his magic tricks got stolen became the band’s opening act. His verbal gymnastics had some influence on the act (”free your mind and your ass will follow” was one of his lines), and he played a little harmonica with the band, but his role was mostly as a seventies-style opening act, trying to get stoned teens who were ready to rock to settle down and think -- a pretty challenging gig. His sole LP, 1972’s “Souled Out,” was recorded by the Chicago comic as the opener for Funkadelic’s (I believe) Chicago debut at Mandel Hall on the U of C campus in 1972. So, getting back to my opening thoughts, while that LP was very good, Jackson’s decades-later DVD follow-up is kind of great. Time has been kind to the self-described “Enviromedian.” This low key, no-frills DVD (two static cameras documenting a live set cable access-style) captures the sit down comic looking relaxed, handsome, and confident doing 45 minutes of clever, well-crafted one liners. The patina of danger as he deals with race, sex, and mortality is polished by his high-voltage, winning smile that in some ways tells the audience they are in on the big picture joke, but in other ways has a kind of trickster’s quality that hints that maybe only the sly comic knows the real deal. Several musical asides involving audience sing-alongs, chants, and calls and responses are original, weird, and oddly soothing. The audience here is completely responsive, though demographically homogenous (as in, kinda old…the head on camera shot does no favors to the male audience member’s 100% ratio of bald spots to heads), but I saw Jackson play to a young “hip” room recently with similar material and he killed that crowd as well. If you needed to compare him to someone, Jackson falls somewhere between the mellowed-out older Frankie Ajaye and a less spaced out Steven Wright. But after 40+ years Jackson has earned the right to be considered an original, and this is a fresh slice of funny funk.

The Normals “so bad so sad”

(Last Laugh) These late-seventies New Orleans pop punks (though pretty straight up power pop, with much of their punk pedigree coming post-mortem by virtue of KBD-adoption of their only single, and the fact that its flip was titled “Hardcore”) were honored not long ago with the exhuming of relatively lost recordings released as the “Vacation to Nowhere” LP/CD. That a band known for a sole obscure 45 has had two full album-length sessions of top quality lost material (with a few repeats of songs per session) dug out and dusted off is an archeological miracle. Though both sessions were from 1979 this one is a little grittier, with less pop sheen then the other tracks (though the exact same grab-you-by-the-balls pop hooks), and the vocals are a little more fake British in these sessions.  But this band was all-American, and by multiplying their musical footprint tenfold the Normals and the Last Laugh reissue label now can be thought of as less of a footnote in Crescent City punk history and more of thrilling early chapter. And putting history aside, it sure is fucking fun to listen to good, virile power pop that tastes fresh and delicious decades after brewing.

Blood Washed Band “Driftin’ Along”

(House of Mercy) I’m hesitant to call this lovely, charming, heavenly collection of spare, reverent traditional country gospel tunes totally sincere, in that I can’t tell if the love in their hearts is for Jesus or for the rural troubadours of yore who praised His name in twangy glory. Then again, it’s hard to know for sure how sincere Hank Williams was when he claimed he Saw the Light, but there’s no denying how many people have been moved, saved, and uplifted by that tune. That these blessed Minnesotans have originals that stand up to traditional and classic covers (especially a potent, completely serious, genuinely stirring number about Jesus bartending) may be the most miraculous thing in these sermons.

The Bongos “Phantom Train”

(Jem) If you like fey, un-additudinal harmonies, this lost 1986 Bongos album is for you. If you like power pop with the guitar sound up and around then this lost 1986 Bongos album is also for you. Though there are traces of the bands more rockin’ early 80s output here (“Drums Along the Hudson” was a danceable, whimsical winner), there’s a lot more of the band’s less rockin’, though more MTV friendly mid 80s vibe present in what would have been there last album had it been released. And now it has.

Richard X. Heyman "X"

(Turn-Up) Should be called Richard XXX Heyman because this is fucking great!

Mick Farren and Andy Colquhoun "Black Vinyl Dress"

(Gonzo Mutimedia) These Deviants deviain't doing an oldies show. Instead Farren does his best Vincent Price reciting potent poetry in a Satanic coffeehouse. Not to imply that the late Farren is currently dwelling southward. On the contrary, if he heard this set, Beelzelbub would be too intimidated to let him in.

AAA Battery "Year of the Woman"

(Rescord) Battery power pop that packs D-Cell wallop while utilizing whatever energy source keeps the Mars Rover alive get things sonically intergalactical. Power pop prog space rock so futuristic it makes you nostalgic for music that hasn't been thought up yet!

American Professionals "We Make It Our Business"

(theamericanprofessionals.com) Extra strength power pop with a quibble of quirk and a prolog of professionalism. The stock cover artwork making it look like a industrial vanity record just emphasizes that this package may, in fact, contain industrial strength power pop.