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Thee Hypnotics |
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"It's a Strange Life but you get used to it...."
-Jim Jones In the same way that over-hyped, mediocre hack bands today can only pass
themselves off effectively as fresh and hip in the zipcodes that have yet
to be exposed to SILVER or
JET, back in the early 90's, those of us un-phased by grunge (except maybe Screaming Trees and the
Fluid) or noisy
dissonance with jackhammer drum machines (except maybe that one Big Black
song, "Kerosene", about his arson fantasies from "Atomizer") were
all diggin' the more obscure underground rock of that day (Fuzztones,
Redd
Kross, Gunfire Dance, early
Manic Street Preachers,
Rosehips, Phantoms,
Soho Roses, Jezzebelles,
Miniskirt Mob) and THEE HYPNOTICS.
On "Justice In Freedom" and "Live 'R Than God",
Thee HYpnotics were
blasting out an insurrectionist brand of revolution rock and motor city
firepower a good solid decade before the Sympathy For The Recording
Industry ANTI-MOGUL and unrepentant chick band pusher, Long Gone John,
somehow jettisoned all those lame Detroit, middle class garage band
poseurs to fame. I sez they all just mostly rode Meg White's bra straps to
the top. The Von Bondis? Bring back the
Dandy Warhols! Jack White? Bring
back Anton, Jeffrey, and Joel from the
Brian Jonestown Massacre! Even the
White Stripes
gimmick had been done a zillion times before! Anybody
remember the Fireworks or
Flat Duo Jets? But I digress. Thee Hypnotics saga is one of "Behind The Music" worthy proportions, but they never sold no records, so instead yer stuck with this here FMS entry. Soul, Glitter, Sin, car wrecks, irrefutable underground cred, brushes with bigtime fame, collaborations with the Rolling Stones meaner, uglier arch-rivals the Pretty Things, a sound that was all over the map from the Stooges and Blue Cheer influenced filthy sixties garage ravers to 70's cock rock influenced stuff that woulda sounded at home on any Free or Faces album, booze, dames, drugs, mortality, coming down heavy, the whole can of perilous rockn'roll decadence, really. I don't even really remember the first time I heard THEE HYPNOTICS- they're just one of those bands it feels like I was always listening to. I had their 12 inch singles, but strangely got heavily into "Soul, Glitter Sin (1991) which was more, shall we say, atmospheric, even dissonant in places, which ain't usually my cuppa meat, but hazily, I suspect they mighta been one of them groups I looked into if they were ever endorsed by our big hero back then, Ian Astbury from the Cult. ___________________________________________________________________________________ |
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| I can't rightly recall, but all their shit got loadsa play round the clock back at my shadowy rodent and creepy black magician infested (James Anthony Meter, call home) ghetto abode in the back alleys of Allston Rock City, and soldiering out to see them perform at a shitty Cambridge college dive called T.T. the Bears back in maybe, 93? and them OPENING their show with a shit-hot rendition of Aerosmith's "Sweet Emotion" on Perry and Co.'s OWN TURF back when the Aeros were first beginning their headfirst plunge into power ballad syrup mongering and pimping roller coasters, hot sauces, video games, and pitifully, like Clapton, even-blues covers. Where are THEE HYPNOTICS WHEN YOU REALLY NEED 'EM? |
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_________________________________________________________________________________ Hypnotics' mainman Jim Jones reminded one of Jagger in his sixties cult film "Performance", but he was one of those rare cats who could be heavily influenced by lotsa different stuff, but still come off really original, because he put his own soul into it, y'know wot I mean? Jim reportedly even turned down the great Brian James and Dave Tregunna's offer to "replace" the irreplaceable STIV in the LORDS OF THE NEW CHURCH back when Stiv was suffering from his chronic back problems, and famously, fired all the already mutinous LNC onstage. Jim Jones had all the pursed lipped shake appeal and swivel hipped bitch magnetism of Tyler, or Bator, Monroe, or Jagger, any of the greats you care to mention. He had that thing. The ROCK STAR X-FACTOR that separates the greats from the poseurs. Me and Sleaze weren't the only Boston Rockers diggin' Thee Hypnotics. Hot college chicks were throwing themselves at this guy, covering his cheeks with kisses while he was onstage like he was Peter Wolf or something, and these were the days before the "Girls Gone Wild" pimps and ho's culture had really taken over. Chicks weren't conditioned to behave like that back then, but they couldn't seem to help themselves. Hypnotics Mania. They weren't really even that famous, ghettoized to the back pages of Kerrang!, unmentioned in RIP. But the little girls understand, they were really just overwhelmed by this guy's starpower, he just oozed charisma from his mic stand and maracas, people could FEEL this cat. I think the secret weapon was drummer Phil, who made all this sludgy dinosaur rock still danceable. I interviewed these guys for a fanzine I used to put out that night, but all that recorded was backwards garble. These guys influenced lots of people and I dunno how come they've been so overlooked or forgotten in recent years. They were totally authentic stone cold rockstars to the core. So even when Rick Rubin and Black Crowes dancing bear, Chris Robinson, tried to turn 'em into a Dave Matthews/Phish style hippie jam band, they refused to grow facial hair or go barefoot, continuing, instead, to sport the best shoes in rock, and grooved straight on into the heart of Nuggets style primal garage, "Lovin Cup" country honk, Sly and the Family Stone style gospel, MC5 jazz improv, more psychedelic scuzz, and artschool wankery, white boy funk...they made a low rent Exile On Main Street and nary a razor riff or righteous soul belt was compromised by those rich stoner producers and all their million dollar military weed... Thee Hypnotics were one of those rare real rock bands like the Rolling Stones, Clash, or Hanoi Rocks, who can dabble in various experimental subgenres, without sacrificing their core integrity. Robinson did his best to turn Thee Hypnotics into the Black Crowes, and upon hearing the Speed Machine for the first time in many, many years ($4.95 cut out bin) it's hard to deny that it's probably the best Black Crowes album since "Southern Harmony...". It was a shame Thee Hypnotics never made it big, the good ones rarely do, and a worse shame that the Black Crowes turned into Lenny Kravitz, but if you can dig timeless rocknroll, and suffer through the stoner indulgences, like the layers of second grade music class remedial percussion instruments, you oughta go unearth this alongside their previous releases. Jim Jones was last heard playing in the brilliant British experimentalists BLACK MOSES who are probably my fave weirdo drug punks since I dunno, "Hear It Is" era Flaming Lips? The Very Crystal Speed Machine was the last thing I heard from the mighty Hypnotics, sort of a Stoned Morning Refried Southern Boogie Hippie Wanking Suicide, but well worth seeking out if you own a purple bong, are upset like me about Tommy Chong, or ever dig the Stones or Black Crowes. All their other shit rocked harder, minus the big production. Look for Black Moses... |
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-Pepsi Sheen
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