headlessparrot's Full Review: Kick Out the Jams by MC5
Who or what proved to be the catalyst in the development of punk rock in the mid-1970s? A difficult question to answer, most definitely, even for someone well versed in music history. Punk rock returned music to its roots, reenergizing it and making something new and unique to which people could finally begin to associate with again. Its history is absolutely vital when we look at the broad picture of what rock and roll is and what it represents. So where did it come from? I can take a shot at answering that question, but it’s a lot more complex than you might think. There are two main answers to this particular question, the long one, and the short one. The long response takes into consider social, economical and political factors, as well as the state of music over the years prior to the emergence of punk around 1975. The short answer is a much simpler one. In fact, it consists of one word. Or rather, two letters and a digit. That brief answer is the MC5.
The MC5 were punk rock before there was such a thing as punk rock - long before, actually - and they may have proved to be one of the most important bands in rock history, at least in terms of the influence that they’ve had. Hailing from Lincoln Park, Michigan, MC5, along with fellow Detroit rockers the Stooges, displayed all the hallmarks of punk rock more than ten years before what is generally regarded as the genre’s birth. With an emphasis on feedback, sheer volume and political rhetoric, not to mention a penchant for controversy, MC5 were minimalist rockers in an era when the excess of rock and roll was only first beginning to rear its head. It’s a shame then, that time has not been good to either MC5 or the Stooges, two bands who have had their musical influence reduced to simple footnotes in the big book of modern rock. They’ve been forgotten in favour of many of the bands that they would directly influence, clouding the perceptions many have about the origins about punk. If the world were fair, MC5 would have their name among the lights along with the other superstars of the 1960s. But alas it’s not, and pop culture has all but abandoned them in the societal gutters where too many deserving acts have already been tossed aside. In truth, the MC5 were among the most influential artists in rock history - in spite of the fact that they only released three major label records, of which only one is regarded as a genuine classic - and they’re a band that every music fan, music journalist, and music historian should be familiar with. Were the MC5 as influential as the Stooges, the other major proto-punk act that would heavily influence the ethos of punk rock? It’s difficult to say, but I have to give the nod to the MC5, if only because they formed three years before their Ann Arbour counterpart.
The Detroit area always was a hotbed for new and different approaches to music from Motown in the fifties and sixties to the old-is-new stripped down rock of the White Stripes today. Musically speaking, it’s a diverse city, and nothing proves that more than the birth of the MC5 in 1964. The Motor City 5 was the product of (you guessed it) five teenagers still only in high school at the time, playing local parties and hang outs, making a meagre earning of it. And while they started out as straight cut young lads performing the standard rock tunes of the day, it wasn’t long before they started experimenting with heavy feedback and wild sonic effects - a unique practise considering this was at a time when the only way to get distortion was to simply crank the volume and overdrive the amplifier into an unrecognizable mess. This experimentation resulted in the departure of two of the original members. It wasn’t long before the band, lead by Rob Tyner on vocals and Fred Smith and Wayne Kramer on guitars, landed a residency at Detroit’s Grande Ballroom. Much like the Ramones would at CGBG’s in 1974, the MC5 built a dedicated cult following centred on their frenetic and energetic, often violent and chaotic performances.
The group took on John Sinclair as their manager, taking on the political rhetoric and ideology of the creator of the White Panther Party (a sort of companion group to the then-new Black Panthers created by Sinclair) in the process. That political ideology embraced by the band endeared them to young hippies disenchanted with the failure of the counterculture to achieve any significant social or political change. This disenchanted youth were willing to bring about change through any means necessary - which included the White Panther’s mission statement supporting “a total assault on the culture by any means necessary, including rock & roll, dope, and fucking in the streets.” They encouraged revolution, even if it had to be brought about through violence, and Tyner would often drape himself in an American flag, spouting his (or rather, Sinclair’s) ideas between songs, making the band a sort of distant precursor to the political approach of bands like Rage Against The Machine. But for all the controversy they brought about, the frequent protests by conservative groups and the recurrent run-ins with the law, it did little good commercially speaking. Even three years after the first notions of the band were born, the MC5 had still not yet cut a major label record deal. That would happen in 1967 when a representative of Elektra saw a live performance and took it upon himself to sign the group.
Once they were signed, the next obstacle was going about recording their debut album. With only one self-financed single in the tank thus far, MC5 was a very inexperienced group when it came to working in the studio. Over the years they had already written more than their fair share of songs for use during their live performances, but there was one big question - how do you translate the brutal, chaotic energy of the band’s live performances into the sanitary conditions of a modern recording studio. The answer of course, is you don’t. And it was decided at this point; in one of the more unorthodoxly brilliant decisions in the history of rock music, that the debut album of the MC5 would be a live affair, a completely live recording. This choice was, if nothing else, a brave one. The risk versus reward was tremendous for such an undertaking, and the MC5 may very well have been the only band in rock history to first present themselves to the world with a live debut album. But this was obviously not a decision made in haste; it was well thought out in advance, and considering the quintet’s reputation as a live act, it’s success was almost totally assured, with the only major problem lying in the fact that recording equipment in the 1960s was not anything close to what it is today, and getting a high quality recording of a live performance presenting a challenge to the engineers working on their project. Luckily, that doesn’t prove to be a hindrance in the least.
If you aren’t generally familiar with what the MC5 sound like, you need only look at how they’ve been labelled. Proto-punk is generally the title they’ve been draped with, standing alongside other luminaries like the Velvet Underground. But the resemblance between these two isn’t something immediately noticeable, with the only real common denominator between the two being that they influenced punk rock and rejected many of the standard conventions of rock during their existence, challenging those conventions and discarding the utopia of the hippie dream. The MC5 never really achieved a tremendous amount of mainstream access, both a result of censorship as well as their unique approach to rock music. It’s much easier to understand just how important the MC5 are today, simply because of context that history has provided us. The MC5, no matter how they’ve been labelled, will always be pure punk in my mind, because punk is an attitude more than it is a sound, and this band defined that attitude to a T. The MC5 were stripped down and raw rock and roll, about as primitive as the form ever got. It was unfocused and brutally aggressive, a near unmistakable cacophony of musical instruments heavily overdriven and featuring alternating intermittent bursts of heavy feedback and wild, unchained solos. Above this impenetrable wall of sound, Rob Tyner sang, taking on many of the political and social themes that would dominate punk rock several years down the road. The drums and bass are literally lost in the mix. In short, musically speaking, the MC5 are a mess. But I mean that in the best way possible. When they first arrived on the scene more than thirty years ago, a lot of people must have not had a clue as far as grasping what they were doing. But while history hasn’t been especially kind to the memory of the MC5, it has been kind to their sound, which holds up much better in the context of today’s music. Their amelodic blasts of sonic fury are much easier to grasp today than they were thirty years ago, because in the years since the MC5, noise has become an art form. From Metal Machine Music to Sonic Youth’s total wash, we’ve gained some perspective on the use of noise in creating music, as well as challenging the idea of what the word music encompasses.
When it came time to finally record an album, the only logical decision was made in regard to the venue for the set - with the band returning home to Detroit’s Grande Ballroom, the sight of innumerable past victories for the band. The environment provided by the Grande Ballroom was intimate and assured that the audience would consist largely of a dedicated following. It also insured that the performance would be as blistering and anarchic as possible, because this was a location that the band was familiar with, an audience that they knew how to work over well. And maybe most of all, poised on the verge of mainstream success, they were driven to give one of the single best performances of their career. The end result of all this was Kick Out The Jams, the MC5’s debut album, recorded live on October 30, 1968. The engineers present and the soundboard recordings capture the spirit of the evening beautifully, and that spirit can be summed up in two words: controlled chaos.
Even at just over 40 minutes in length, Kick Out The Jams is a daunting record, and one that isn’t particularly easy to sit through, in part because of the sheer volume and bedlam captured on the album. This is a time capsule of a performance, featuring little or no studio overdubs, and including even the rawest and most insignificant details. The crowd roars their approval with each passing song, even capturing the occasional moment of soft conversation between those in the audience or the members of the band on stage. You can literally hear lead singer Rob Tyner gasping for air after howling the chorus of Kick Out The Jams. The rest of the band simply goes along with Tyner’s movements, with guitarists Wayne Kramer and Fred Smith simply laying down absolute walls of fuzz of dissonance, rarely stumbling on anything that is a recognizable riff. Tyner struggles to be heard of this mess of overdrive and feedback, while bassist Michael Davis simply resigns himself and gives up even trying to break through this barrier. Dennis Thompson’s drumming, given the situation, more resemble a tribal drum beat than anything else, trying in vain to hold the rest of the group in some reasonable bound. Tyner is often forced to scream simply to be heard above the never-ending surge of guitars. In short, the whole thing more closely resembles a three-ring circus than a rock performance, but that’s where the genius lies. Tyner has the crowd nearly eating from the palm of his hand, carrying them along for the wild ride, and truth be told, there’s a method to the madness in Kramer and Smith’s guitar work.
On first listen, it simply sounds like an unending assault of overdriven and feedback drenched guitars, but on closer inspection, their sonic assault is carefully planned out. Both of these young men are talented guitarists, and use the bursts of static to craft sort-of feedback harmonies. A heavy blues influence is visible, with both guitarists utilizing blues licks and blues-derived solo progressions under the wall of buzzing. It’s absolutely brutal, and can be quite challenging to sit through, but it’s brilliant in a twisted sort of way, revealing great song writing underneath. Lyrically speaking, Kick Out The Jams isn’t anything particularly special, a blend of cover songs and originals. The political and social overtones are rather blatant, rallying cries housed in song format and filled with great lyrical hooks to get the listener to pay attention. In the end, there’s nothing particularly poetic about any of the lyrics, but it’s hard to deny the anthematic qualities that many of these songs have - Kick Out The Jams is the perfect cathartic rock song, a perfect blend of aggression with exuberance and a catchy melody. In fact, Kick Out The Jams may well be the perfect party rock album. That’s not to say it’s shallow, because there is definitely a lot at work, but you can’t help but get caught up into the energy of the recording. There's a good reason, though, why the MC5's set is only forty minutes long - anymore would simply be an overload of the raw, primal and volatile blend of rock and noise that could leave some frothing at the mouth.
The gentle strains of the audience cheering slowly rise to a dull roar of rhythmic clapping, as we can almost feel the anticipation dripping in the air. The cheers from the back slowly increase until the thirty second mark when Brother J.C. Crawford enters the stage and is greeted with polite applause. Crawford, listed in Kick Out The Jam’s liner notes as “religious leader and spiritual advisor,” begins a sermon-esque spiel about revolution - asking the crowd “whether they are going to be the problem or the solution,” then introducing the MC5, “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a testimonial: the MC5.” At this, the crowd goes wild, greeted with a blast of overdriven guitar and a chugging rhythm as the MC5 jump right into a cover of Ramblin’ Rose sung by guitarist Wayne Kramer. The song moves at breakneck speed with Kramer squealing in a raspy and cracking high falsetto and the whole band joining in for the simple refrain. The song gradually loses steam, slowing before ending abruptly as Rob Tyner interacts with the audience. “Right now… right now it’s time to… Kick Out The Jams, mother fucker!” he howls, greeted by a building guitar riff over which he screams to make himself audible. A two-minute burst of fury, Kick Out The Jams may well represent the birth of punk. Volatile, cathartic and full of pent-up energy, this is no doubt the highlight of the record.
Come Together follows, another burst of insane guitar thrashing and howling vocals, with sudden tempo changes all over the place. Rocket Reducer No. 62 (Rama Lama Fa Fa Fa) begins with a pounding, pulsing bassline that picks up before fading off, replaced by another guitar assault. It’s boastful number filled with sexual innuendo and obvious references to drugs and drink, and is followed by Borderline, another two-minute punk tune with an eerie howling vocal repetiton and a simple, percussive bang, bang, bang rhythm guitar section. Switching back between standard and ¾ time, Tyner sounds slightly inebriated as he yowls the rambling, incoherent vocals passionately. Although five distinct songs, the first half of Kick Out The Jams resembles one enormous medley, flowing easily from one song and into another, all of which feature that wall of noise and Tyner’s impassioned wail. Motor City Is Burning proves to be the only let-up for the band, a R&B cover completely transformed into something new. The MC5 slow down for what may be the only time during the performance, shifting into a sort of blues shuffle - one soaked in distortion - and punch out a song that seems brilliantly appropriate given the band’s political ideology.
I Want You Right Now is followed by the closer Starship, a shimmering free form psychedelic number melding entirely different sections with different time measures into one eight minute long opus filled with wild sound effects and textures, heavy guitars, and even a brief period of meditative humming accompanied by a squealing guitar approximating the trill of a bird. A loose interpretation of the jazz number of the same name by Sun Ra, it’s pulled off with such reckless abandon that you can’t help but fall in love with how outlandish and peculiar it is.
I’ll be the first one to tell you that Kick Out The Jams is a difficult listen, and that some people will glean absolutely nothing from the forty minutes of controlled chaos found here. It’s important, however, to keep historical context in mind when you do give it a listen, and you’ll begin to realize the connections between the MC5 and what would come after. After awhile, you might begin to notice some of the faint traces of the blues and R&B blended into this music, and you might even begin to recognize that Kick Out The Jams consists of eight great songs that benefit from the atmosphere and unpredictability of a live performance. On Kick Out The Jams, the MC5 craft surprisingly original and inimitable music that challenges the conventions and ideologies of rock at the time it came out. 1969 was the peak of peace, love and happiness, but the message here is one of revolution by any means necessary. No one was doing what the MC5 were during their existence, and Kick Out The Jams demonstrates this, creating a blueprint for punk rock and an example for the blending of noise and music in the process. The MC5 never would achieve the mainstream notoriety that many expected of them, which is a shame because they were doing something unique and interesting by bucking the trends of the sixties. And it’s almost ironic that the live recording that created a much more powerful and sincere vibe within the music would also be the band’s downfall due to the presence of the f-word during Tyner’s stage banter - many department stores refused to carry the album and Elektra would eventually have to drop the act that they had almost entirely failed to promote (isn’t it interesting that in the sixties, a single expletive could make or break a band, whereas today, people don’t bat an eyelash at Eminem?). Kick Out The Jams isn’t the prettiest or catchiest live record out there; in terms of sound quality and the technical performance, it’s average - but it represents something more, and the disorder of the performances simply help to build the legend of the MC5 even more. Kick Out The Jams is a must have, both for the physical music and for the historical importance of the band and the record as a whole.
CGBG’s in New York was the birthplace of punk? Well I’d venture to say that the Grande Ballroom in Detroit certainly has a claim on that title, if only because of the Motor City Five and the groundbreaking Kick Out The Jams.
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