c. 2022 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(12-22)
I have written about the incredible music and artistic adventure of California guitarist Davie Allan for several decades. His work inspired me during childhood years, and proved to be an everlasting force in my own life. But one tradition evolved from interacting in his old fan group on the Yahoo! website that opened a completely different understanding of the musician’s legacy – the composition of ‘First Impressions’ reviews.
A boisterous member of the DA online combine was Boobie Auten. Someone that evoked the energy and creative abandon of Beat Era writers, or their Hippie successors. He seemed able to wield prose and poetry with an uncanny lack of inhibitions. As I sometimes characterized it, ‘Letting his mind swing freely in the wind.’ A talent often lost by adults as they grow used to paradigms and conventions of wordsmithing.
Boobie would make me gasp and ponder sometimes, just as our musical mentor Davie had done, with so many of his vinyl recordings. I felt challenged to do better at the typewriter. To liberate my own consciousness from the binds of convention.
Thus, the idea of jotting down first impressions was born, out of this need to hone personal skills. I sat at my desk in the home office, and literally let the words fly freely. What resulted was somewhat shocking, yet blissful. A narrative of unpolished, rowdy, experiments. I liked what appeared on the page. And felt brave enough to share this real-time, meandering-in-print with both King Fuzz himself, and Boobie.
Ever since, I have followed the formula whenever a new ‘arrow-dynamic’ recording arrives.
What follows here is a stenographer’s shorthand take on Davie’s ‘Turn It Up!’ CD, an absolute joy to receive with Christmas so near. Though I typically spin his ‘Fuzz for the Holidays’ volumes at this time of year, his new release is a perfect compliment to tidings of good cheer and joy being spread with family, neighbors, and friends throughout the world.
AMBUSH – Out of the envelope in December, galloping with mechanical hooves, fuzz sparking from the grooves. A swirl of dust in the air as the stampede begins, welcome back, my old friend! So good to hear you again. This beginning is a counterpoint to the old year’s end.
UNIDENTIFIED FUZZY OPUS – The grandeur of an electric wire blazing tonal fire. Fingers flying over the frets, evoking memories that listeners will never forget. I haven’t lost my faith, yet! Decades dance on a calendar hook, my guitar sits in a practice nook. Sixty years plus, the King of Fuzz has inspired all of us… I’ll never quite match that prizewinning catch. But he keeps me grounded with the sounds he’s pounded.
HELL BOUND – Boots on the footpegs, holster swings with the tonewood of a musical peg, riding and riffing, the hard ride of a fretboard slide. Wick up the throttle full, give those six strings a pull! There’s a feedback loop in the chamber, ready to be released. This is the merry season of joy and peace. I’m ready to go wild in the streets!
STEPPIN’ OUT – Loose and loaded, got a fuzz folio likely to cause an artistic imbroglio. Tunes from today, and yesterday, are stacked. A plectrum king’s ransom of Rock & Roll tracks. Can’t help but brag, got a Jazzmaster in the gig bag. Listen up everybody, there’s a show to be played, I’ll be jamming both night and day.
STOMP IT NOW – Big beats turn up the heat, the melodies are sweet, they make me move my feet. Gotta run run run, ride into the sun, take aim with my quarter-note six gun. Like a cowboy in the old west, sporting chaps and a leather vest. Spurs on my boots. I’m laying down nothing less than magic and raw truth. Wheelie on, hear my song, bang a gong, this is where I belong!
FOR YOU AND ME – There’s an unwritten rule lingering in my head. The rhyming result of something that the guitar shaman said. A statement made as he played, without any words on the page. This echo hit me low, moving deep and slow, like a river underground. I soaked up that metallic sound. It kept me standing tall, on sacred ground. Everybody gonna get down!
TURN IT UP – Lane Valadi, the mystery merchant of melodious glee. I tilt my ear toward the speakers and wonder ‘Who is he?’ This drifter is no grifter, he brings rewards that I could never pay for, right to my front door, painted from red to black, and gold-hinged, here at the Swindle Shack. This figure is a delight, his music keeps me up all night, twisting knobs to ten, tonearm skips back to play the entire LP side, again. It’s a party with my best friends, me, myself and I, on a coast-to-coast train ride, surfing a soundstream that will never subside!
WHATTAYA SAY - A question tossed by the Harley-Davidson boss, chrome and flames in effect, running through his headliner’s set. The whole crowd is eclectic, a million kinds of hearts and minds, joined as one, with rubber scorching the tarmac and a blessing of distortion and feedback. There’s nothing he lacks, watch him wield an arpeggio attack. Fade to black, jumping like a jester off a Marshall stack. Our hero is back!
THE NEXT DIMENSION – Outer limits charted on hot wax discs, I sit listening while reading, feet stomping and heart beating. A review of the contents, by name. A notion amplified, conventions smartly defied. The spark of a vintage Fender, modified over the years. Like a big-lunged chopper, a V-twin cruiser, jamming gears. This is the war cry I hear. White man beware, there’s a note of rebellion in the air!
HOGG HEAVEN – Slick courses of metal wires, cranking notes and spinning motorcycle tires. There’s a feeling of pride as I ride today. Got a million miles to digest, this pale rider has passed the test. It’s the sound of success. A vast sea of electricity, churning like a symphony, in a motion the heavens inspired, turbocharged and hot-wired! Nirvana is my destination. I’m drunk on these hymns of pure elation!
WAR PATH – Not afraid to reveal that my life has been spent on spinning, motorized wheels. Like a brave from the frontier, working my way through the gears. E-A-D-G-B-E, I got the Great Spirit of my indigenous ancestors riding with me… that primal force never runs short. From the badlands to the electrified ronk-a-ronk of big bands that play, I’m ready to face my judgment day. Got a lot to say! Let the arrows fly. I won’t be denied.
BLUES’ THEME – A familiar sound of thunder shakes the ground under my toes. As above, so here below. It’s a vibe I know, a holy place to which I am eager to go. Return to the vacuum tubes that glow, this is the seed to grow, riding high in the saddle. Knuckles gone white from gripping the bars, steering toward the edge of oblivion like a new-age, rodeo star. This is the beast unleashed, king of the streets, a composer of delights unmatched, with a cultural upheaval attached. The shape of things to come, wild like angels unaware, channeling the reflection of sunlight from a pyramid crest at dawn. Peghead pointed to the east, not fearful in the least, tuned-up and set for a session of mass projection. This is fate at work, like boot heels in the dirt, giving props to the classic chums who continue to strum. Good vibes for all of us, a glorious gift from the King of Fuzz!
Note: This will be included in my upcoming collection of lyrics & poetry, ‘Midwestern American.’ To be sold through Amazon.com.
Postscript: Davie’s newest release also includes a ‘Past Highlights’ section, with a bonus roster of 12 more tracks from 1996-2021. These recordings provide evidence of his artistic vitality and endurance. Unlike others who came to prominence in the 1960’s heyday, he has continued to develop his chops, and become sharper, stronger, and fuzzier… in defiance of chronological aging. The ‘king’ remains on his throne, and he rules with authority!
Thoughts about WOTL may be shared at: Rodswindle@yahoo.com
Icehouse Books: P. O. Box 365 Chardon, OH 44024
