Big Tip! *200 copies * In the mid-70s in Northern New Jersey, some friends and I formed an ensemble called Atomic Squawk, with which we used our extremely limited musical techniques to play the sorts of whacked-out sounds about which none of our fucking peers gave a rat's ass. “Funny” talking blues, free form skronk, vaguely detourned covers of Beefheart and the Velvets -- these were our stocks in trade, and much happy time was whiled away in Randy Charles' basement drinking and making noise, simply because most all the live music being played in the area was dull as shit; useless unless your only goal was trying to get a sloppy blowjob in the parking lot of Mother's.
Fifty miles south, things were pretty much the same for future members of Steel Tips, King of Siam, Strapping Fieldhands, Spy Gods and other future legends of the South Jersey sub-underground. But the active (and semi-active) participants in Bangone Ensemble had access to many more and better musicians down around Rutgers. This meant the Bangone Ensemble's sound was leagues beyond Atomic Squawk's. Still, we shared the same aesthetic impulse. In 1975, Jersey bands like the Laughing Dogs and Another Pretty Face were considered cutting edge. If you knew anything about anything, this notion was a goddamn joke.
It sounds to me (factual details are shrouded in mystery) like Bangone Ensemble had up to a dozen players at times, with miles of instrumental width, and chops almost on a par with Ithaca's Zobo Fun Band. There's some seriously good playing going on here, but it's all being done in the name of weirdo-rock as the truest expression of non-idiotic teen rebellion. It's a great damn sound, mixing jazz, art-rock, “new music” and primitivism in much the same way DC band the Muffins did during their earliest days. The sound is kind of like a child's guide to the avant garde -- from the Mothers to the Soft Machine to the Magic Band to the Arkestra and beyond, with a soupçon of sheer wise-assery stirred in for good measure.
Bangone Ensemble's sound is just a great gust of freedom from a time and a place that was pretty fucking square. They unwittingly set a pace not really matched until some of the free-rock post-everything fusion units of the mid '90s. As Mick Farren might have said, “Give the anarchists a cigarette!” They earned it.
--Byron Coley
