The Tragic Band - "Horrible And Vulgar" But Actually Pretty Damn O.K.

On tour, '74. Reedsman Del Simmons paying his mortgage, left.

"Horrible and vulgar" was how Van Vliet described today's Beefheart Bonanza albums, after he belatedy realised he'd made a critical mis-step that alienated old fans and won him no new ones. But he was prone to this kind of Stalinist revisionism, having disowned the awe-inspiring Strictly Personal [here - Ed.] after first (rightly) approving Bob Krasnow's head-bending production. It may be difficult to believe that the Captain lacked self-confidence, but it's a control freak trait, covered up by blabber n' smoke.

The Magic Band walked out on hearing Unconditionally Guaranteed. That's the story. But hadn't they heard what they were playing in the studio? Weren't they listening to the songs? The album was produced and sweetened after final takes, as Clear Spot had been, but the basic nature of the songs didn't change after the band left the studio. In short, everyone knew what they were doing, and there were ample opportunities to change direction or walk out before the record hit the racks and the shit hit the fans.

Liberated at last from Van Vliet's bullying, abuse and thievery, and free to follow their Zen Art Dude muse, the Magic Band reformed as Mallard, drafting in a supperclub Beefheart soundalike, and cut a couple of pleasant, conventional albums far closer in spirit and sound to Unconditionally Guaranteed than any earlier Beefheart albums. Only not as good. So there's that.

Unconditionally Guaranteed is the Magic Band, with three odd additions: Andy DiMartino, songwriter and producer who played guitar. Mark Marcellino, keyboard player with no other recorded history other than songwriting input (with DiMartino) on a Buckwheat album, and Del Simmons, session flautist/reedsman with fewer session dates than Marcellino. Perhaps they were hanging around the watercooler at Mercury Records. After his band flounced, Beefheart had four days to hire a pick-up band for a European tour. Drummer Ty Grimes had played with Rick Nelson, so he had to be good, but of the others only Michael Smotherman seems to have any track record (that Buckwheat connection again). The live album, cleanly produced by DiMartino, is better than you might expect, or not as bad as you fear. The necessarily simpler arrangements of familiar songs are crowd-pleasing blues and boogie, in some ways a throwback to the Mirror Man sessions [⬅︎ original critical aperçu - Ed.], and only the critics complained that it wasn't the real Magic Band. But tragic? Heroic, more like. What a thankless gig.

EDIT: I'm relistening to the live album and it's not only better than you might expect, but much better than I remembered. Boogies along very nicely, great playing, terrific recording. Included in loaddown.

The follow-up album for Mercury, Blue Jeans And Moonbeams, [cover art by The Mascara Snake - Ed.] was the only Beefheart album my girlfriend liked, so naturally it got sneered at by me and everybody else who saw it as a total artistic betrayal. The critical vitriol spewed on this album is weapons-grade toxic. Some see it as slightly better than the previous album, some as even worse, but everybody thinks it stinks. Except those undiscriminating souls - such as je - who are able to enjoy it for what it is, a nice album, which isn't enough for the furrowed-brow difficult listening crowd. But I'll take the tragic band over the virtuosi who made Doc At The Radar Station and Ice Cream For Crow. Those guys were academically rigorous, awesomely accomplished, but by then Van Vliet had simply run out of tunes. And ideas.