He likes to head east. But he heads west. Why? Because he likes it better. What other reason could you possibly need; “I could make albums all day,“ says Frank, and if they’re likely to be as good as these two simultaneously released affairs, then give him the vinyl to do it.
Initially Black is down as saying he would have liked the records to have been cut with an orchestra and if not an orchestra, then at the very least a saxophone section, or something “kinda Bowie-ish“. And although Black’s record label nor his patience ever seems to have stretched to an orchestra, the spectre of Bowie did somehow manage to get raised – and very successful it is too. As too is the swish, prolific matching of Tom Waits recent double whammy releases (‘Alice’/’Blood Money’) – both sets of albums a cocky two-fingers up to the often overwrought particularness and self-importance of regular label schedules: “Here’s the new Frank Black album“ – “Only one?“ – “oh awight then, here’s another“.
With each session recorded live to a two-track tape, both albums have a very deliberate ‘plug in and play’ rock ‘n roll forthrightedness. Believe it or not though, nothing is lost by way of detail with his now less than pedantic attitude toward production and his veering off toward reference and inspiration over and above innovation or originality. But since originality and innovation are such scarce, elusive beasts, with little or no chance of ever taming or ever predicting, ‘Devils Workshop’ and ‘Black Letter Days’ are more than adequate substitutes.And lets face it, it was never really a smart move for bands to spend six years making a album sound fresh and immediate, now was it?
Written and imagined during the planning of a North to South coastal trip, ‘Devils Workshop’ could loosely be described as an accessible, hook laden lucky-bag of tunes and testicles – gentle on the ear and easy on the listening.
Alternatively snarling and growling like Mick Jagger (Heloise/Bartholomew) and whining and over-pronunciating like a ‘Pin-Ups’ era Bowie (‘San Antonio’/’His Kingly Cave’ – a ‘Mutations’ outtake if ever there was one) Black manages to squeeze each discernible facet of the US/UK meet and divide relationship into 35 minutes of potted pop history. And it quite literally buzzes because of it too. Alt-country, baroque, pop, rock ‘n roll – it’s all in there.
‘Black Letter Days’ is on the other hand an entirely different kettle of fish altogether. Launched by the raucous Harlem gothic wail of the Wait’s cover ‘Black Rider’ before pedalling effortlessly into the steel/piano guided drive of ‘California Bound’ it takes a little longer to appreciate and unravel. Bit like a single malt and a blended Whiskey. That’s what you have here. Two things that can be enjoyed in equal (and preferably double) measures.
Minor keys to the fore and with one pipe from the exhaust fed through the window, this is a much darker, more ponderous effort. Still bright with Black’s agile lampoonery and wit and circus-like horrorisms, it is nevertheless the sepia, twilight West to ‘Devil’s Workshop’s lunch-period East: the land of the living and the dead.
Dustballs, mothballs and clear open miles of car-track – vampire bats and mutant side-show freaks. That about sums it up. This might be an implausible x-file in itself, but if you’ve ever been brave enough to unearth the under-privileged vinyl of a Monkees record and laboured across to tracks like ‘Aunty Greselda’ and ‘Mr Webster’ you’ll appreciate the surreal yet quiet domestic uneasiness of this album.
Anyway, it’s 29 fresh songs of Black. Buy them, play them, put them down your underpants. You won’t be disappointed either way.
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