Damn, a band that’s been around for three decades, Maher Shalal Hash Baz, featuring contributions from Arrington Dionyso, Zach Phillips, and dozens of others, making anti-pop sorta-pap that weighs a lot more than it looks like in the baggie?
Yes, Hello New York is THAT good. However, you gotta SQUEEZE and force MSHB to show its true self to you, in the form of post-NNCK, -Bobby Beausoleil, and -Black Neck Band Of The Common Loon jamz that render the Degenerate Art Ensemble meaningless. Me? I’m in heaven with these tunes, awash in trumpet, bassoon, clarinet, recorder, and anything else these tricksters can get their agile hands on. It’s like Les Claypool lost everything and started jamming with his neighbors in a loft apartment in heaven, or maybe it’s even more complicated than that, with limbs lost and hearts torn out as they beat on and on. HOW DID WE GET HERE!?!@?! You might be asking yourself that when you place brain-teasing works like Hello New York onto your turntable (you’re buying the vinyl, right? no time for CDs, Dr. Jones, though in this case you’ll get extra tracks; hey bro, not cool bro) because there simply are no rules here, no rhyme or reason to speak of, and when things verge on being purposely out of tune, I must admit that I, myself, even start to wonder if this crowded train is going off the rails, and FAST. Ha, GOTCHA! I knew Phillips and co. were ON IT all along, so slag off if you can’t handle their off-kilter ways. “That’s All I Would Get” is a typical track, plodding and patient, yet so flush with activity your ears will be double-taking all over the place. Dionyso sings on one track, too (“Haarp”), bringing back memories of Old Time Relijun and concerts in Moscow, Idaho, along with my first introduction to throat singing and other such oddities. Do you really need me to tell you anything more about the 24 tangy tracks tickling your ear-tongue with each passing minute? It’s all here, the bravado, the group-think, the untamed giddiness of improv, the dirty sneakers of many, many men (and a few women!) packing a cheap NYC carpet into the ground. Hello New York indeed; I should move there. Ready? Let’s make it happen. Until then, spark up Maher Shalal Hash Baz and wait for the passing subway to turn into a sandworm. YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!! “Dulce Juana” will see it done, guaranteed; listen to that track and watch as you dutifully shovel your cash in OSR Tapes’ direction.