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In the Graveyard
$14.99 LP
Unknown Passage
$14.99 LP
Defiance
$14.99 LP
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DEAD MOON
In the Graveyard
(Mississippi)
DEAD MOON
Unknown Passage
(Mississippi)
DEAD MOON
Defiance
(Mississippi)
Dead Moon's songs are like lovely and terrible ghost trains; they rumble and roar through the post-Beatles rock 'n' roll night, peeling the scabs off of hackneyed chord changes and cliché rock attitudes. From 1987 to 2006, the band recorded 13 albums of bristly, no-bones psychedelic, punk, and blues at home studios deep in the Oregon woods. Their fans are easily mistaken for worshippers of some freakshow Americana cult, bearing Dead Moon tattoos to signal to other believers -- a skull in the moon flashing a toothy, maniacal smile. These first three albums, faithfully reissued by Mississippi Records, are as pure and unadulterated as the first Sun recordings -- rock music that bleeds electricity, spooky voodoo, and ferocity.
Led by Fred Cole, whose punk rock resume extend from the mid-'60s west coast garage-psych scene right through today, Dead Moon records sound and feel the way they do because of Cole's blistering songwriting, fierce guitar, wailing vocals, and in large part because of his Spartan recording techniques. Recorded to 8-track tape at home and mixed in mono, Fred then cuts the master LP himself on the same lathe that cut the Kingsmen's "Louie Louie." I hesitate to throw the entire Dead Moon catalog under the banner of "lo-fi;" we don't call the Kingsmen the first great lo-fi band. But that iconic song, like Dead Moon's songs, sounds amazing partly due to the raw, no-frills, no-bullshit aesthetic of the recording.
The band's debut 1988, In the Graveyard, is smoldering, rickety, and unbelievably good. The songs are often on the verge of derailing, but that's mostly because of Fred's snarling, psychotic voice. A friend once described Cole's singing as "horrifying, but weirdly beautiful." He's at his wildest on punky covers like "Hey Joe," or on tombstone blues ballads like "I Hate the Blues." The band's bass player (and Fred's wife), Toody Cole, throws her bewitching high priestess pipes onto Elvis' "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You," delivered with an off-kilter honestly that is the antithesis of Presley's smooth croon. The record also includes longtime DM live staples "Out on a Wire," "Graveyard," and plenty more.
Unknown Passage, from '89, is the best of the first three records. There are no more nerves, and the three-piece locks together in a way that was only hinted at on the debut. There's no great leap forward in fidelity, but right from the opener, "Dead Moon Night," through to closer "On My Own," the band kicks hard against the pricks. This record contains a lot of classic Dead Moon jams, like the aforementioned opener, "A Miss of You," "54/40 or Fight," "Evil Eye," and "Demona," which bears more than a passing resemblance to the Wipers' "Is This Real?" Drummer Andrew Loomis seems to burst apart on this record, helping anchor Fred's songs with simple, insanely hard drumbeats.
1990's Defiance continues the streak, opening with a punk rock barnburner cover of the traditional "Milk Cow Blues." This album is decidedly twangier than Unknown Passage, and the band often sounds like an acid-fried alternate universe version of the Byrds. "Walking on My Grave" is one of Fred's best songs, a screed against the stale state of rock and roll, and proof that the modern pop airwaves did indeed reach the Cole's cabin. "There's a new kid on the block/and he's taking my place/walking on my grave!" he screams. Directly after that is "Johnny's Got a Gun," one of the best songs that Toody sings on. It might be the straightest rock song in Dead Moon's repertoire, starting out with a Patti Smith spoken word verse and eventually reaching a Joan Jett chug.
There are a lot of obvious influences at work here: the Kingsmen, the Animals, Roky Erickson and the 13th Floor Elevators, Robert Johnson, and the Sonics. But Dead Moon is decidedly original and refreshing, even twenty years after the records were first pressed. Their recording process, style, and aesthetic were pure and simple, right down to the monophonic sound and the monochromatic sleeves. I reconnected with these records a few nights ago, when thunderstorms rolled over Brooklyn and lightning flashed in my windows. There were moments when I could not distinguish between the lashing rain and the gravel in Fred Cole's voice. The experience was almost religious, as my ears completed a trinity with the records and the speakers. Dead Moon is proof that rock and roll lives, and if the genre has lately left you feeling a little cadaverous, these three LPs have my highest recommendation. [MS]
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