From: "Casey, Leo J" <CaseyL@VOLPE.DOT.GOV>
Reply-To: tv@obbard.com
To: tv@obbard.com
Subject: (TV) Nick Kent's Infamous Feb. 1977 Review of "Marquee Moon" (UK)
Date: Fri, 8 Feb 2002 14:49:46 -0500
I believe this was originally written for the U.K.'s 'New Musical Express'
(I could be wrong, anyone know for sure? Or was it 'Melody Maker'?).
My copy comes from a little 14 page pamphlet of reviews and
interviews with TV published by John Angus.
Warning: some may find Kent's writing to be over the top or
hyperbolic .
Review of 'Marquee Moon" by Nick Kent Feb. 1977
I concur thus.
Sometimes it takes but one record----one cocksure magical statement, to
cold cock all the crapola and all purpose wheat chaff mix'n'match, to set
the
whole schmear straight and get the current state of play down, down, down,
to stand or fall in one dignified granite hard focus.
Such statements are precious indeed. 'Marquee Moon' the first album from
Tom Verlaine's Television however is one: a 24 carat inspired work of pure
genius, a record finely in tune and sublimely arranged with a whole new
slant
on dynamics, centered around a totally invigorating passionate application
to
the vision of mastermind Tom Verlaine.
Forget all the New York minimalist punk stuff. Television's music is the
total
antithesis, and to call them punk rock is rather like describing Dostoevsky
a
short story writer.
Television's music is remarkably sophisticated, unworthy of even being
paralled
with that of the original Velvet Underground whose combined instrumental
finesse was practically a joke compared to what Verlaine and Company are
cooking up here.
Each song is tirelessly conceived and arranged for maximum impact, the
point
where decent parallels really need to be, made with the very, very best.
Dylan and early Love spring to mind, the Byrds cataclysmic 'Eight Miles
High'
period, a soupcon even of the Doors and Captain Beefheart and their mondo
predilections, plus the very cream of those psychedelic punk bands that
only
Lenny Kaye knows about.
Above all though, the sound belongs most undoubtedly to Television, and the
appearance of 'Marquee Moon' at a time when rock is so helplessly lost
within
the labyrinth of its very own inconsequentiality. Where actual musical
content
has come to take a backseat to 'attitude' and all that word is supposed to
signify, is to these ears little short of revolutionary.
My opening gambit about the album providing a real focus for the current
state of rock, bears a relevance simply because here at last is a band
whose vision is centered quite rigidly within their music----not, say, in
some half-baked notion of political manifesto mongery with that trusty,
thoroughly reactionary three chord backdrop to keep the whole scam buoyant.
Verlaine's appearance is simply as exciting as any other innovator's to the
rock sphere---like Hendrix, Syd Barrett, Bob Dylan---and yes, Christ knows
I'm tossing up some true-blue heavies here, but goddamnit I refuse to
repent
because the talents of Verlaine's Television just damn excites me so much.
To the facts then---recorded in A&R studios, New York, produced by Andy
Johns---the album lasts roughly three quarters of an hour and contains
eight
songs, several of which have been recorded in demo form at least twice
before,
and have been performed live innumerable times.
The wait has been worthwhile because the refining process instigated by
some hesitant non-recording contract months has sculpted the songs into
masterpieces that are here, present for all to experience.
Side one makes no bones about making its presence felt, kicking off with
the full-bodied thrust of 'See No Evil'. Guitars, bass and drums are
strung
together fitting tight as a glove, clenched into a fist punching metal
rivets
of sound with the same manic abandon that typified the elegant ferocity
of Love's early drive.
There is real passion here, no half-baked metal cut and thrust---each beat
reverberates to the base of the skull, with Verlaine's voice mixed
perfectly
into the grain of the rhythm. The chorus/climax is irresistible
anyway---Verlaine crooning, "I understand all destructive urges and it
seems
so perfect . . . I see . . . I see . . . no e-v-i-i-l-l."
The next song is truly something else---'Venus de Milo'. It 's simply one
of
the most beautiful songs I've ever heard (the only other parallel to it is
Dylan's 'Mr. Tambourine Man') a vignette of sorts, dealing with a
dream-like
quasi-hallucinogenic state of epiphany.
"You know it's like some new kind of drug, my senses are sharp and my
hands are like gloves. Broadway looks so medieval, it seems to flap like
little pages . . . I fell sideways laughing, with a friend from many
stages."
'Friction' is probably the most readily accessible track from this album,
simply because with its cutting anarchic quasi-Velvets feel, plus
(all important) Verlaine's most pungent methedrine guitar fretboard
slaughter. Here it'll represent the kind of thing all those weaned on
the hype and legend, without hearing one note from Television, will
be expecting.
The song has vicious instrumentation and a perfect climax which has
Verlaine vengefully spelling out the title F-R-I-C-T-I-O-N, slashing his
guitar for punctuation.
The album's title track closes side the first side. Conceived at a time
when rock tracks lasting over ten minutes are somewhere sunk deep
below the subterranean depths of contempt, 'Marquee Moon' is as
riveting a piece of music as I've heard since the halcyon days of
. . . O'h, God knows, too many years have elapsed.
Everything about this piece is startling, built around Verlaine's steely
runs and meshed with Lloyd's intoxicating counterpoints.
Slowly a story unfolds---a typically surreal Verlaine ghost story
involving a Cadillac pulling up to a grave yard and the disembodied
arms beckoning the singer to get in while "Lightning struck itself",
and various twilight rejects from 'King Lear' (that last bit's my own
fancy, by the way), babbling crazy retorts to equally crazy questions.
The lyrics as a scenario for the music are utterly compelling. It
transforms from a strident two chord construction to a breathtakingly
beautiful chord progression, which acts as a motif/climax for the
narrative as the song ends with a majestic chord pattern.
'Marquee Moon' is the perfect place to draw attention to the band's
musical assets. Individually each player in Television is
superb---Verlaine's guitar solos are sublime; they are in short a
potential total redefinition of the electric guitar. As it is, Verlaine's
solo constructions/coltraneisms are always unconventional, forever
delving into new areas, never satisfied with referring back to formulas,
simply he can solo without ever losing the point.
Richard Lloyd is a good foil for Verlaine. Another fine musician, his
more fluid conventional pitching and manic rhythm work is the perfect
complimentary force, and his contribution demands to be recognized
for the power it possesses.
Fred Smith on bass is an excellent solid player; he holds down and
controls the undertow of the music with great skill. His understanding
of what is required of from him is a real pleasure to listen to.
Billy Ficca, a delicate but fine drummer, using every portion of his kit to
colour and embellish. I can only express a quiet awe at his inventiveness.
Individual accolades apart, the band's main clout lays in their ability
to function as one and perhaps a good demonstration of this can be
found in 'Elevation', side two's opening gambit. Layer upon layer of
gentle boulevard guitar makes itself manifest, until Lloyd holds the
finger-picked melody together and Verlaine sings in that truly incisive
style of his.
The song again is beautiful, proudly contagious with a chorus that
lodges itself in your subconscious like a bullet in the skull---"Elevation
don't go to my head", repeated thrice until on the third line a latent
ghost-like voice transmutes, "Elevation" into "Television". Guitars
cascade in and out of the mix so perfectly.
'Guiding Light' is reflective, stridently poetic---a hymn for aesthetes
---shimmering with lovely piano lines played by Verlaine.
'Prove It', the following track is a potential single. Verlaine spits and
seats his command on the vocal---"This case . . . this case I've been
working on so long . . . so long." And of course that chorus which I
still can't hesitate quoting---"Prove it . . . Just the facts . . .
Confidential."
Final song on the album is 'Torn Curtain'. A song of grievous
circumstances (as with many of Verlaine's lyrics), the facts---cause
and effect---remain enigmatically sheltered from the listener. The
structure is indeed strange, with Verlaine's vocals at their most
yearning. The song is absolutely compelling and I can't think of a
single number written in the rock idiom that I could possibly compare
it to.
So THAT'S IT. 'Marquee Moon', a work of real genius suffice to
say---O'h listen it's released on Elektra and reminds me of just how
great that label used to be. I mean this is Elektra's finest record along
with 'Strange Days'. Tom Verlaine is probably the single most important
songwriter/guitarist of his kind since Syd Barrett.
If this review needs to state anything in big bold, black type it's simply
this: 'Marquee Moon' is an album for everyone, whatever their musical
creeds and/or quirks. Don't let anyone put you off with jive turkey
terms like 'avante-guard' or 'New York psychos'.
This music is passionate, full blooded, dazzlingly well crafted,
brilliantly
conceived and totally accessible to anyone who (like myself) has been
yearning for a band with the vision to break on through into new
dimensions of sonic overdrive and the sheer ability to back it up.
Tom Verlaine and Television are out there hanging fire and cruising like
meteors above all the three chord wonder boys.
Prove it? They've already done it; all you have to do is listen to
the album, and levitate along with it.
They are one band in a million, the songs are some of the greatest
ever. The album is 'Marquee Moon'.
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