12 - The Michigan Daily - Weekend etc. - Thursday, April 4, 1995 The Shaggs are women of (un)deniable talent and fun By Heather Phares Daily Arts Editor From the firstjangled, mangled off- key chords to the last muffled vocals, Secnd- the Shaggs are easily seen as one of the worst, most ludicrous excuses for a band in the history of pop music. Why, then, would such varied musical lumi- naries as Bonnie Raitt, Jonathan Richman, Eddie Vedder and the late greats Frank Zappa and Kurt Cobain think this band is one of the most im- portant and influential? Though the band is certainly not conventionally talented, they certainly are originals and complete musical iconoclasts. One could even argue that the band, in their own naive way, spawned their own form of do-it-yourself, all-girl punk rock. The Shaggs' history is just as odd and fascinating as their music. The three Wiggin sisters, all in their teens, formed the Shaggs in the late '60s. Their father, Austin Wiggin, took them to a Massachusetts recording studio. Though the recording engineer encour- aged Wiggin to wait until the girls had moreexperience, Wiggin insisted, say- ing that he wanted to get the band on tape "while they're hot." Then Wiggin got a local businessman to release the recording session as "The Shaggs' Phi- losophy of the World" on the Third World label. Unfortunately, the entrepeneur took off with Wiggin's money and the majority of the records. But fortunately for record collec- tors everywhere, the Shaggs' records that actually survived were found and championed by local and college radio stations like WBCN in Boston, and local musicians like Keith Spring, apart of the New Rhythm and Blues Quartet. From there, the Shaggs' cult status swelled to include important musicians and critics, all taken by the band's hon- esty, creativity and freshness. And literally all of their creative output is on "The Shaggs." This reissue includes aremixed and remastered ver- sion of "Philosophy of the World," as well as the band's second album "The Shaggs' Own Thing" and outtakes from the recording sessions of both albums. The entire collection is remarkable, not only for the unusual musicianship, but also for the honesty, humor and poi- gnancy in the lyrics. It's music for teenagers, by teenagers and about teen- agers. Granted, the musical skills that one expects from a rock band, like a prop- erly tuned guitar or predictable chord changes and rhythms, are not evident in the Shaggs' work. But that's part of the beauty of the band; like fellow avant-popsters like Jad Fair or Daniel Johnston, the Shaggs make their own weird music because they have to. And the genuine sweetness of their material sets them apart from most other rock bands. "I'm So Happy When You're Near" is all about first love, as is "My Companion." There are odes to sports cars, Halloween and emotions, and covers of such classic songs as "Paper Roses" and "I Love." Also found is a cover of the Carpenters' song "Yester- day Once More," arguably the best version of the song for its guileless, non-saccharine innocence. But there's more. One of their more remarkable songs, "Philosophy Of the World," goes "All the girls with long hair want short hair/And all the girls with short hair want long hair/All the boys with cars want motorcycles/All the boys with motorcycles want cars/ You can never please anybody in this world" - a rare gem of hilarious phi- losophy set to music. "Who Are Par- ents" sings the praises of parents: "Parents are the ones who care/Who are parents?/Parents are the ones who are always there." "You're Something Special to Me" is a classic love song with a hup-two-three-four chorus, and "Shagg's Own Thing" which features the legendary Austin Wiggin and the band's brother, Bob, on vocals. The actual sound of the music is a bizarre mix of '50s soft-rock conven- tions mixed with detuned guitars, off- key bass and clunky drums that lag along behind the natural beat of the music. The voices of the Shaggs - Dorothy, Betty and Rachel Wiggin - are generally flat and monotonous, but somehow the group turns all of these shortcomings into a life-affirming me- lange of experimentation and honesty. The band is important for these traits, if nothing else, in a world that generally favors things slick and prepackaged; they're not the easiest listening for those faint of heart and weak of ear. But as Jonathan Richman says of the Shaggs in the well-crafted liner notes, "Forme, one song about your real life is worth ten 'professional' songs. The Shaggs convince me that they're the real thing when they sing." Alvin and the Chipmunks don't got no stinkin noserings either By Ted Watts Daily Weekend Editor Back in 1980, Excelsior Records (a division of Pickwick International, Inc.) released a platter with the title "Chipmunk Punk." Now before you get your mega-alternative diapers in a bunch, it ain't like that Green Day stuff. You see, there used to be this marketing gimmick designed around a song where a guy says "I asked the witchdoctor..." and it turns out that the witchdoctor said "Ooh ee ooh ahh ahh ding dang walla walla bing bang" in a really high and squeaky voice. The guy who came up with this gim- mick, Dave someone or other, real- ized he could parlay the high squeaky voice into a fortune if he played his cards right in the kiddie market. Thus was born the Chipmunks. Frontmunk Alvin was the prototype of the rock 'n' roll bad boy. He always seemed to play his harmonica late at night, causing Dave to yell "Alvin!!!" This trait eventually evolved into rock stars shattering their hotel rooms into little pieces (or in the case of pre- NKOTB New Kids on the Block, set- ting the hotel room on fire and burn- ing the room into little pieces). So the Chipmunks, with their devil may care attitude and penchant for changing styles to fit whatever style they came into contact with, would seem unerringly headed to do a punk (that's late '70s punk, not that current load of bastards) album, right? Not exactly. Sure, the album title is spray painted onto the wall behind the band on the front cover. Sure, Alvin has a safety pin apparently through his right nipple (chipmunks do have nipples, don't they?). And Alvin and Theodore do look like they're about to knife each other while Simon stares wide eyed and dialated at the onlooker as if he were pumped up on so many amphetamines that he won't sleep until early next century. But the proof needs to be in the musi- cal pudding, and there's just very little punk about the song selection. The artists they cover simply don't ring punk to various degrees. Blondie could have a case made for them. Queen a whole heap less so. But the final straw that was driven through the camel's eye like a needle? That would be the presence of Billy Joel. The utter concept of the piano man being associ- ated with punk in any way, shape or form is sufficient cause for any divine being that may exist to take some cos- mic fire and burn the earth to its foun- dations or until the marketing people get their heads straight and figure out that soft piano pop 40 is not punk by anyone's standards except for time trav- elers from more than 100 years in the past. Not that it isn't a fine album in spite of its awfully misrepresenting label. Any singer who can take the plodding and dopily low vocals to Tom Petty's "Refugee" and turn it into high pitched kiddie fare surely has some skill (or a skilled proaucer). That's right, the eternally popular "Uncle Tom Petty" (as he was called on "It's Garry Shandling's Show") is covered by the rodent trio. Their ver- sion of Blondie's "Call Me" actually sounds creepily like Debbie Harry as voiced through a lower mammal an- thropomorphized into a singing sen- sation. And then there's "My Sharona." Quentin Tarantino couldn't get the rights to the normal version of "My Sharona" for the anal rape scene in "Pulp Fiction" because the "Reality Bites" people had already sewn up that deal. One wonders if he tried to acquire this version of the song. There's a shuddering concept. Out- side that context, though, the song pretty much fails to bear any resem- blance to anything more punk than one of those Kiss dolls I recall one of my childhood neighbors having. (Note to the culturally impaired: Kiss spat stage blood and is thus in no way, shape or form punk; real punks spit real blood.) Looking at the album in a concep- tual way, however, the fact that they cover such unpunk artists as Queen and Billy Joel could be their punkitude. Yeah, man, it's so out there to cover these guys that it might be punk to do it, like the Dickies cover- ing "Nights in White Satin." Nah, that can't be it. They just don't have the sound or the outgoing energy for it. Their energy is all tied up in internal vibrations required to produce the sound that issues from them. Actually, there is a way to punk up the album. First, get it on vinyl. Now put the speed control to 45, spin that platter and close your eyes to imagine Alvin, Simon and Theodore belting out "God Save the Queen" while try- ing as hard as you can to forget "Ur- ban Chipmunk." You 'Might'; enjoy this By Kirk Miller Daily Books Editor The humor in "Might" is so scath- ing, so politically incorrect and so accu- rate I won't repeat it for fear of getting one of those weekly letters to the Daily that claim we're racist or insensitive. Nothing about "Might" is about hate; it's about satire of all politics and pop, culture. "Might" hails from San Francisco and is sort of the close cousin to "The Nose" and other evil satire, low-bud- get, low-circulation magazines. Be- tween the rantings are some fasinating analysis pieces by today's best writers and some covert reporting that you'll never see in the New York Times. Each issue of this somewhat bi- monthly/somewhat Gen X zine turns simple items like the Table of Contents and editor's page into a wacky little parody. For example, if you follow the contents page you'll see items like "Women and Coffee: Trouble Brew- ing?" and a giant picture explaining scuba equipment, none of which has anything to do with the actual contents Themagazine-being-a-parody-of-a- magazine continues with a scathing "Corrections" page that includes such" tasty items like "On page 111, in out 'Religious News Round-up,' we re-4 ported that Jesus Christ was aderanged filthy proto-hippy. In fact, Jesus Christ was the son of God. We regret the error." Ouch. Articles on Don Ho, Barbie and a' roundup on "The Future" ("It's kind of like right now, only different ...") are less pointed and more in vein of light, sardonic reading, but it's really the harsher satire that deserves recogni- tion. These are not the politically cor- rect liberals or the dittohead conserva- tive diatribes, just accurate and infor- mative. Small pieces on the future of gangs, the hypocrisy of Dianne Feinstein, the general stupidity of Newt Gingrich and swipes atGen X competi- tors Swing magazine are informative. and funny without going overboard into meanness. Well, usually. There's a good article on AIDS," some funny surreal barbs at Jesse Helms in a list of 95 bad things that could happen to him, fiction, cartoons, record reviews (any magazine that describes R.E.M. as "Fleetwood MacGrunge"' can't be too bad) and assorted othet kooky items. But it's their ability to make fun of what they represent that, works so well. Take "How to Give Rock Criticism," which successfully destroys the reputation of anyone who has ever written a CD review by telling how to do it and sound smart. Review- ers are accurately labeled as people who will "get nowhere near as much' attention as the bands you're writing. about, which is why reviewers can get pretty snide, hold grudges and lord it over the band . you'll have to accept' the fact that you are a nerd ... at a_ gathering, arockcritic would huddle by" the entertainment center making faces at the music selection." Ouch. Look, if this doesn't make you want to rush out and spend four bucks instead of blowing it on some new bagel place catering to the Greek system's finest, then at least know it has a great review section on how-to sex tapes. (Since this is my final magazine * column, I leave you with Might's ex- cerpt from the sex tape "Tantra Love": "We swim in a sea of sex, yet we are thirsty.") Get an ugly girl to watch 'Dogfight' with on a bet MAKE $7,116 THIS SUMMER By Scott Plagenhoef Daily Arts Writer Early November 1963. The night before shipping out for Vietnam a group of Marines decide to end their stay stateside by pooling their money and having a dogfight. That is, having a contest to see who can pick up the ugliest girl; the biggest "dog." This is how Birdlace (River Phoenix) and Rose (Lili Taylor) meet. Birdlace, portrayed by the late Phoenix with the harrowing innocence of a boy about to be forced into the very masculine world of war, does not exactly choose Rose because she is the ugliest girl in the bar, but be- cause she is the "worst" his awkward self can do. Rose, ironically a sensitive, poetic child, undoubtedly a future member of the Students for a Democratic Society and/ornumerous anti-warrallies, agrees to leave with him because she feels sorry for him. He is about to go to war. The magic of "Dogfight" is that it does not follow the traditional narra- tive pattern of this such film. That is, Birdlace pretends to go along with the date for the sake of the money, realizes he may really be attracted to her, finally tells her about the contest at end, she leaves upset, he gets ready to leave for Vietnam broken-hearted, she meets him at dock or airstrip or whatever, prom- ises she'll wait for him. Nancy Savoka, who at the time had only directed "True Love," the misadventures at an Italian-American wedding, keeps the film paced grace- fully. She allows the film to be defined by the characters and their discoveries V This is a clone. It does the same summer job as everyone else. It will never know the adventure of a roadtrip with friends across the country to work harder than it has ever worked and make more money than it has ever made before. It will endure another summer of boredom and repetition. It is stuck. about themselves and others rather than the events of the film. Savoka's films are excellent portraits of inner beauty and celebrations of the sensitive, the artistic side of humanity. Therefore, no the climatic moment is not the revealing of the contest. That takes place in the middle of the film. And when it does, proving Rose will also be a future champion of women's rights too, she is more upset at what he and his more neanderthalic friends have done to the other women picked up in the dogfight. Beneath all of the revelations these characters are making about them- selves bubbles metaphorically the rev- elations the nation is about to make about itself. For afew more weeks John *Kennedy is still President. Vietnam is still supposed to be a place where our "advisors" are sent, not our soldiers. The poetry and folk music read, lis- tened to and recited by Rose has not yet spurred a cohesive counterculture. The '60s are incubating in a small hotel room in which a confused and frightened marine is trying unsuc- cessfully to pick up the ugliest girl he can find. He is deep down too kind- hearted to truly hurt this fellow child, yet beginning tomorrow he will be sent out to kill. She sees him as lost because of his fate, his going to war, and this sentiment will continue as she discovers the inadequacies in society throughout the remainder of the de- cade. In the endjust as they hadn't this night, neither will win. Get Unstuck. Informational interviews being held: TODAY ONLY. April 6th Michigan Union Rm 1209 3pm and 5pm SHARP. Bring a friend. The Southwestern Co. If unable to attend call Shelly Smith 971-2715 THURSDAY NO COVER AT RESTAURANT V SPORTS SAR Also featuring: 2O* a wing $3.25 pitchers Coors Light $5.00 pitchers Long Island Ice Tea 1220 South University 665-7777 21 and over after 9pm U a. Bra y M rt r * Best Selection * Lowest Prices Stop in Saturday, April8, and meet the Doc Marten representative, : : ti.".