| Fanciful and insanely creative, Klaatu's Woloschuk, Long and Draper made music that sounds as fresh today as it did when it was first released. |
|---|
Klaatu
Sun Set 1973-1981
Bullseye (2005)
It seemed like only yesterday, in 1976, that the Beatles had broken up. For those whose lives had been disrupted by such an act, the only true solace to be had was the rush of solo albums released by the boys from Liverpool, musical salve to heal their fans' wounds.
Such were the times when just one musical group could have such an effect on people. It could never happen today, but it happened then, and before hope finally gave way to cautious acceptance, a susceptible public would easily wrap their arms tightly around any rumor, no matter how preposterous, that the post-divorce Fabs had secretly gotten together, adopted a pseudonym, and made a record full of a newspaper taxi's worth of clues for you all.
As the summer of 1976 started its slow fade to fall, a record cover, adorned with a big, smiling, slightly-cocked sun surrounded by blue sky, mushrooms and rodents appeared in record racks and probably would have stayed there, if not for one of those pesky rumors that Beatles fans were always on the lookout for--a rumor so juicy, so you-want-it-to-be-believable, it couldn't possibly be false.
It was, of course, but that didn't stop legions of Fabs fans from embracing the hype and searching for clues within the grooves that would prove that their boys had simply changed their names and carried on with the business of making records, as it should always be.
When Klaatu, or 3:47 EST, as it was called in Canada, came out, I was about to enter my senior year of college, on my way to a B. A. in English. I heard about the record, tracked it down, and played it, hoping against hope that the rumor was true. It was obviously not the Beatles, but the group's members' real identities were not listed. Very mysterious!
The songs...well, they were something else. Certainly they were Beatlesque; certainly they had that lads from Liverpool quality about them. "Sub Rosa Subway" sounded an awful lot like the kind of song McCartney would write. But did "Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft"? What about "Anus of Uranus"? "California Jam"? Could "Sir Bodsworth Rugglesby III" have been a new McCartney song in the spirit of "Yellow Submarine"? The answer was yes, if you wanted to believe, and just about everybody wanted to.
Soon, though, it became perfectly clear that the members of Klaatu were simply... Klaatu. But the Fabs-in-Klaatu-clothing rumor continued to spread. Capitol Records couldn't put the rumor to rest, because that was the deal they accepted from the band: let the music speak for itself. No bios. No photos. It was a decision that backfired in the marketplace, in dramatic terms. It wasn't until the album Endangered Species that the names John Woloschuk, Dee Long and Terry Draper were unveiled, but by then it was too late for commercial success.
Twenty-nine years after 3:47 EST was released, Klaatu's core fans continue to hold the band close to their melodic hearts. Fanciful and insanely creative, Woloschuk, Long and Draper made music that sounds as fresh today as it did when it was first released. Thanks to a reissue program undertaken by Canada's Bullseye Records, the band's albums (save for the final release, MagentaLane, which I assume will be coming up soon) have been digitally remastered, sounding better than the original releases (and the inferior CD versions that were out previously, for that matter). And now, with the release of Sun Set 1973-1981, fans' insatiable appetite for Klaatu's pre-Capitol singles, alternate versions, and other audio ephemera has begun to be satisfied (I'm betting there will be more of what's on offer here, if the package is as well-received as I think it will be).
Presented chronologically on two discs, Sun Set's 41 tracks provide a near-complete, alternate picture of a band whose collective imagination only continued to get stronger as time went on. From a handful of early GRT 45 sides, released prior to 3:47 EST, to alternate versions of songs from all of the group's albums, it is more than obvious that this is the work of masters of the recorded art known as pop.
The GRT sides are interesting for their differing approaches to some of the songs that would appear on 3:47 EST, even though some of them don't sound a whole lot different than the album versions. The exceptions are extraordinary listening experiences, though: "Hanus of Uranus," dubbed "Anus of Uranus" on the album, is harder-rocking than the album version, with a runaway bass line to die for; and the unreleased single mix of Long's "Cherie" is stripped down to harmony vocals against a simple acoustic guitar and bass backing. It's a breathtaking, basically-unplugged version of the song.
The original vocal mix of "Sir Bodsworth Rugglesby III" presents Woloschuk performing the song in his "regular" voice, without the children's song affect used in the released version, and a slightly different orchestral track and a satisfying, cold ending. A very cool, alternate version of Sir Army Suit's "Juicy Luicy" features a slightly different vocal line in the chorus and a completely different call and response hook ("Everybody say 'My oh my!'"). A slightly-slowed down rhythm and a completely different, affected vocal are at the center of an alternate take of "Everybody Took a Holiday." A slightly-stripped-down version of "Dear Christine" features a differently-structured chorus with an interesting (but out of place) run of punctuated backing vocals, and some different lyrics.
Seven Endangered Species demos, put to tape on two four-track recorders at Long's home, outclass in every way the Christopher Bond-produced versions that were released. They still don't sound much like Klaatu songs, but they're more likeable in demo form, particularly "Sell Out, Sell Out" and the touching, folky Woloschuk ballad "All Good Things," which benefits from its extended length, a welcome lack of compression, and instruments and vocals that really breathe. Five MagentaLane alternates close out Sun Set, with the complete version of the charming title track--a true Klaatuish number if ever there was one--the most worthy of inclusion here.
A never-before-heard song, "There's Something Happening," sports a decidedly Teenage Fanclub vibe (many years, of course, before that group would make its debut); this song would have fit nice and snug on MagentaLane. Apparently, it's not the only unreleased Klaatu song that exists; a demo of a tune called "Come One, Come All" appears on the vinyl-only Raarities collection, none of the contents of which appear on Sun Set (calling collectors of interplanetary unreleased songs!).
An orchestral version of the Hope album, presented in its entirety, closes out Sun Set's first disc. Minus the synthesizers added by the group when the album's release was delayed to allow the first album to get a fair shake in the marketplace, this much-loved record sounds more like the work of a small orchestra augmented by rock musicians. In this context, the perfect pop of "We're Off You Know" sounds a bit more mannered; even the rocking "Madman" seems different with its slow fade in (and placement swap with "Around the Universe in 80 Days"). "Hope," Woloschuk's best song, seems somehow more personal.
Sun Set is housed in an attractive slipcase adorned with a spectacular, new Ted Jones painting (Jones was the artist for all of Klaatu's album covers, except Sir Army Suit). Two booklets are included; one is devoted to a lengthy, informative essay by Daffodil Records president Frank Davies, who signed the band (Daffodil released all of Klaatu's albums in Canada, up to but not including MagentaLane). The other booklet presents an oral history of Klaatu's career, with comments about many of the songs straight from the band members. While informative and fun to read, it would have been better to include comments about every track, along with annotations denoting each track's origin (demo, alternate, remix, etc.). Many interesting artifacts from the group's career are reproduced, including a neat, handwritten note from the Carpenters, who recorded "Calling Occupants" for their Passage album (embarrassing spelling mistake intact).
In most cases, I think that Klaatu and their production partners made the absolutely correct decisions when assembling their albums. Hope, for example, benefits from the more polished, commerical mix of the released record. "Juicy Luicy" works better on Sir Army Suit. And so on. But the goal of Sun Set is not to present fans with newly-anointed official versions of Klaatu's songs; rather, the idea is to show the band along the path of creation, planting the seeds, the initial infrastructure, of their music prior to final mixing and eventual release. That this collection does in grand style.
It is interesting to me that the music of my youth continues to inform my consciousness so many years later. When these songs were first released, I never thought of them as artifacts to age along with me. The songs of one's youth--the soundtracks of generations--are living DNA that defines every being. Klaatu's music has never been far from my consciousness; the versions of their songs contained on Sun Set reinforce why. That such a package exists is cause for celebration, a smattering of California Jam on the toast of your daily bread.
Alan Haber
June 18, 2005
Go to: Bullseye Records Canada