Smegma, "33 1/3" (Important, 2007)

Smegma, "33 1/3"

Important Records, 2007

Since the release of "The Beast," Smegma's collaboration with Michigan noise-kings
Wolf Eyes, their subsequent performance at the
2006 No Fun Fest, and last but not least an appearance on the August 2006 cover of The Wire, this longtime group of west-coast weirdos closely associated with the Los Angeles Free Music Scene (or, LAFMS) have suddenly found themselves scrutinized under the cool glare of the hipster spotlight. I'm not here to bullshit you, being a relatively young guy, before I read John Olson's passionate exhaltation of everything Smegma in a promo written up for "The Beast" that I found at Zulu Records in Vancouver, I had no idea who these people were or the music they'd been making for 33 1/3 years. Of course, whenever someone begins to boast that (insert band name here) makes the craziest, most out-there sound, I see that as a welcome challenge. In fact, I'm already there: wallet out, eyes gleaming, mouth foaming.

When I was a teenager, it was the usual suspects: Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Boredoms, The Shaggs, John Zorn, and later in college it was Caroliner Rainbow, Runzelstirn & Gurgelstock, and The Legendary Stardust Cowboy. And so, after hearing all this hype, I couldn't resist the temptation to see whatthe fuss about, and began digging into their laudable back catalouge. Thankfully, courtesy of the Mutant Sounds blog, I was able to get ahold of the out-of-print 1982 lp "Pigs for Lepers," free of charge, and after spending a bit of my own bread, wound up with the recent reissue of 1981's "Nattering Naybobs of Negativity" (which includes a remastered edition of the cassette-only release, "Morass"), a 2005 collaborative lp with Metalux and Mr. No-Fun himself, Carlos Giffoni, the album which I am (sort-of) reviewing, "33 1/3," and Smegma's latest release, a collaboration with Norweigan noiseniks turned metalheads, Jazkamer.

Clearly, this is a lot of music to digest, and so far, I've managed to absorb the majority of those records with glee, along with enough comprehension of who Smegma are and the sounds they make to write a summary review of "33 1/3."First of all, I think it's important to note the label that has released this record. Important Records have a fair bit of clout in both the indie and avant-garde music worlds, and it's worth noting that as all of their releases receive professional packaging jobs, and are released in fairly reasonable quantities (if you don't count Boris' "Vein" lp), Important Records releases have a better chance of reaching a wider audience, remain in print longer, and might even wind up in your local chain record store.

This is not a criticism of the label itself, or it's business and distribution practices, but I do think that this is reflected in the music Important releases. Like the recent Jessica Rylan album, "Interior Designs," Smegma's "33 1/3," and indeed, much of the music Important releases, tend to function as great introductions to the bodies of work produced by the artists in question. Many of these albums are great, no doubt, some could even be considered essential, but it's my feeling that none of them are classic-status albums. "33 1/3" is an excellent, even essential record, and one of the best new releases I've heard all year, but I can't help but feel that with all it's bells and whistles, it lacks some of the unpolished character which early Smegma classics such as "Pigs for Lepers" and "Morass" have in spades. That being said, for old fans and newcomers alike, "33 1/3" finds all the trademarks of Smegma's peculiar sound intact and sounding better than ever: the Harry Partch influenced homemade instrumentation, altered electronics, warped vocal samples, and turntable manipulations aplenty, and lengthy, unpredicatble jam sessions reminiscent of those found on Beefheart's "Trout Mask Replica," only weirder.


Smegma have been performing this personal blend of soft and chewy free-jazz for over three decades, and it should come as no surprise that as a band of musicians, they've got much tighter with age. As I first listened to this record, one of the things which struck me as really remarkable was how loose Smegma's improvised carnival tunes seemed to be, and yet, on closer examination the composition, instrumention, and sense of dramatic timing that is employed is appropriate, I realized that while Smegma might be a bunch of goofs, they're not goofing around when it comes to technical proficiency. On past releases, Smegma's Beefheartian bozo-antics seemed at time almost randomly slapped together, sounding as if they'd been violently shoved down thirteen floors of stairs with a trampoline waiting at the bottom. In contrast, "33 1/3" finds these freaks strutting their stuff and showing off some serious musical sophistication, while sneaking in a little more structure than before into their gelatinous sound. For example, "The Door," which is the longest track on the album, and my personal favorite, plays for four solid minutes nothing but sound effects and seemingly random noise bursts and blurps before diving into a warbly surf-rock jam which sounds like it was recorded underwater, and continues on in this fashion until peaking at the ten-minute mark. Each track on the album is worth noting for its own nuances, but others I enjoyed profusely include "Glossolalia," a dynamic five-,minutes of sampled vocal dementia, the mushrooms on the midway vibe of the circus-like jam, "Antics," and the smooth-jazz ambience of "World of Plugs."

Whether or not Smegma and their LAFMS friends are the godfathers of the American free-noise scene is besides the point, and so is the fickle attention temporarily being given to them by the hipster press (Pitchfork, Tinymixtapes, et al). I for one will continue to pick up whatever records I can get my grubby hands on from this entertaining group of American originals. If you've become the least bit interested in Smegma after reading this review, I heartily suggest you nab yourself a copy of "33 1/3," or any of the albums I've already mentioned. Better yet, taste test a copy of "Pigs for Lepers" on Mutant Sounds right now, and see for yourself what all the hubub is about.