by Tim Owen
August 31, 2009
Here we have two comparably slick offerings from anarchic European ensembles, both chasing the aesthetic pioneered by Downtown New York?s in-house maven of the quick-splice, John Zorn
Flat Earth Society
Cheer Me, Perverts!
Crammed Discs
Jan Zehrfeld?s Panzerballet
Hart Genossen von Abba bis Zappa
ACT
Here we have two comparably slick offerings from anarchic European ensembles, both chasing the aesthetic pioneered by Downtown New York?s in-house maven of the quick-splice, John Zorn.
Panzerballet is a sextet with one album already under their belts, here expanded to a mid-size ensemble with guests including saxophonist Klaus Doldinger. Their music owes a clear debt to Zorn?s Naked City, but the primary influence on their collective musical personality would appear to be one of the artists name-checked in their album title, Frank Zappa.
Where Naked City?s stylistic jump-cuts seldom used direct quotation, and therefore (arguably) never sounded parodic, Panzerballet often evoke specific artists. For instance, I think I detect the influence of ska/punk/funk outfit Fishbone on the opening moments of Jadoo, Zappa Medley Part 1, and towards the end of Ein Bisschen Frieden. And it?s actually in passages like these, furthest from jazz pastiche, that Panzerballet are at their most effective. Certainly the soloing is not Jazz but merely jazzy: witness the guitar soloing on The Mediterranean Breeze, which for all its freshness (there?s no doubting band leader Jan Zehrfeld?s chops), aspires no higher than mimicry of Stevie Vai?s technical showmanship. If you haven?t guessed by now, the professed influence of Abba seems to be mostly ironic. Zappa fans may well like this album; Abba fans would most likely find it excruciating.
The tuneless vocals on Mein Teil are certainly excruciating, mashed up against a boneheaded proto-metal guitar riff, which is followed by a non-sequitur ethno-lounge jazz break, and then a passage that splices some trademark Zorn noir atmospherics with cheesy 80s Hollywood movie muzak. The penultimate minute somehow pulls everything together in almost redeemingly lovely fashion, but that fleeting moment is subsumed by crude crud before the conclusion.
The Abba cover Gimmee, Gimmee, Gimmee follows, one of Abba’s? most clunky tunes, but pretty worthwhile in this incarnation; a lightly funky concoction bookended with an unpredictable Latin melody. The ?chorus? is subtly handled by effects-free electric guitars, and there?s even a deft jazz-funk passage into the bargain.
Surprisingly enough, the worst aspect of Panzerballet?s album turns out to be an inhibiting politeness. A version of Danny Elfman?s Simpsons Theme is particularly dismal in this respect, retaining nothing of the wayward ?lan of the best known TV arrangement (series three onwards) by Alf Clausen. (Other band versions used in the series, notably those by Yo La Tengo and Sonic Youth, also knock it into a cocked hat, making you wonder why Panzerballet bothered.) “It’ll be too frivolously ironic for some”, wrote John Fordham in the Guardian, and he?s absolutely right about that. It?s probably a blast live though.
The Flat Earth Society?s? album is superficially similar in its eclecticism, but is fresher and more cohesive. Although they no doubt set out to be just as ?anarchic? as Panzerballet, The moments of homage to Jazz and traditions in Jewish and other folk music on Cheer Me, Perverts! seems to be more deeply felt; the album has an emotional sincerity that Panzerballet lack, and would most probably disdain. Flat Earth also leaves the Metal riffing and onanistic electric guitar solos out of the mix, which allows them to come up with something that goes beyond pastiche.
This extra level of subtlety is unexpected (particularly given the album?s lamentable title, which is unexplained), since the Society?s? leader, Belgian composer & clarinet player Peter Vermeersch, is probably best known for his work as a driving force in the nineties Belgian indie rock scene. He managed dEUS, its most popular exponents outside Belgium, and founded X-Legged Sally, who combined rock with jazz influences. The Flat Earth Society is a 15-piece big band that takes those influences further, with greater emphasis on Jazz strengthening some already persuasive credentials. Their sixth album, The Armstrong Mutations (released in 2003), was dedicated to Louis Armstrong. The following year they toured with pianist Uri Caine, which I wish I?d heard; his aesthetic is equally eclectic. Ipecac released a compilation in 2005, and Crammed Discs preceded Cheer Me with Psychoscout in 2006. All of which I mention to illustrate that this is a well-honed recording ensemble, as is evident in the slick, almost glossy production of Cheer Me, Perverts!
Not everything on the album sounds uncontrived: Kotopoulopology, for instance, is vaudeville Jewish oompah music. But at its best, in tracks like Bad Linen, Flat Earth Society is lithe and tautly arranged, often displaying some pent-up tension that muddies up the glossy surface of the album nicely. At such moments the comparison is less with Naked City than with the most interesting work of Matthew Herbert?s big band. There are also passages of evocative introspection, such as those that open and close Too Sublime in Sin, and take us into Dawn on the Desert. These moments situate other more tempestuous passages within a satisfyingly widescreen context.
For my money Flat Earth Society has more satisfying compositions to explore than anything any box-ticking workout with Panzerballet can offer. But I suppose Fordham has a point; whether or not you prefer one of these albums over the other will be just a matter of taste.