The late Peter Gutteridge is known as a founding member of The Clean and The Chills, but along with his band Snapper, he is best remembered for his only solo release, Pure. Originally issued on cassette in 1989 by the Xpressway label, it’s due to arrive on LP November 10 through Superior Viaduct. Featuring raw slices of lo-fi subterranean pop interspersed with methodically layered instrumentals, the set is a masterpiece of DIY that’s highly recommended to anybody who cherishes the sound of one human’s undiluted creativity captured by a 4-track.
Along with his brief time with The Clean and The Chills (very brief in the latter’s case), Peter Gutteridge was also a contributor to Clean offshoot The Great Unwashed (alongside Hamish and David Kilgour), The Puddle, and the Alpaca Brothers, but the band that brought him the biggest direct recognition was probably Snapper, a Flying Nun band that stood apart from what many think of when they think of the Flying Nun label.
Gutteridge’s higher profile in Snapper is due to his participation through the band’s whole run, which consisted of three singles, a self-tilted EP in 1988, Shotgun Blossom in ’90 and A.D.M. in ’96. “Buddy” from the EP is said to be Snapper’s best known tune, which makes sense as the video for the song made the rounds back in the day and was included on Atavistic Video’s In Love With These Times Vol. 1 Flying Nun VHS compilation.
Snapper’s sound could be described as a little like Jesus & Mary Chain, Spacemen 3, and early Stereolab in a big dogpile in Alan McGee’s backyard, and knowledge of the band’s general thrust will certainly be helpful for those hearing the unpolished DIY nature of Pure for the first time. But even as it offers markedly different versions of Snapper’s “Hang On” and “Cause of You,” Pure’s contents spread out farther than what Snapper was up to stylistically as the nature of the one-man and a 4-track operation launches the music from a contracted platform.
Opener “Lonely” gives off vibes of Suicide contending with a HUGE slow motion wave of gnawing guitar drone and Gutteridge’s voice low in the mix. Directly following, “Exhibition I” platters up a soufflé of chattering synthetic rhythms and vaguely Terry Riley-esque keys with more of that serrated guitar this time sans voice, and then “First Instrumental” (my guess is it was recorded first) quickly establishes a swirling psych groove with the burning amp action still in tow.
At half the length and far less propulsive, “Hang On” bears little resemblance to the Snapper version, though the similarities are in there. “Ocean” is built almost entirely on Gutteridge’s tide-like guitar, while “Dead Pony” is a short strummer that’s halfway between the coffeehouse and ‘80s u-ground NYC. It’s the caustic stomp of “Fuck Your Mother to Hell” that firmly plants Pure in the unpolished pre-Big Time indie landscape of its era.
“Suicide” doesn’t sound anything like Suicide, but is instead a pretty instrumental flaunting cyclical keyboards. “Oil” is a combo of programmed rhythms, ripples of acid guitar, and distant vocal croak. And then, ten tracks in, “Pure (No. 1)” arrives, adding bass guitar to the aforementioned ingredients, formulating a song motion that’s subtly robotic but also supple; when Gutteridge’s vocals come in it’s like a much cooler version of mid-’80s Lou Reed.
“Thumbaline” is a gorgeous instrumental cascade suggesting that soundtrack work could’ve been a productive line for the artist. Pure’s version of “Cause of You” is also quite different from the way Snapper handled it, slower and shorter and lacking vocals, but also thicker. “Rubout” is dense drumbox psych grind followed by “Planet Phrom,” the record’s boldest pop statement featuring a vocal duet with Snapper’s Christine Voice.
“Sand” is a stealth beauty move wrapped up in springy buzz as “Exhibition II” picks up where its predecessor left off. “Having Fun” sounds like a nod by Gutteridge to mid-’60s Beach Boys (and likeminded summer fun stuff), and “Bomb” swings back to the sound of Suicide (with flashes of Elvis swagger, believe it or not). Most of the more fragmentary pieces here feel just about right in length, but the guitar splash of “Fifty-seven Seconds” could’ve lasted a lot longer. Instrumental “Chinese Garden” provides a simple beat and cyclical motifs with just the right amount of ornamentation.
“Pure No. 2” closes the record, no less robotic but noisier as Gutteridge’s stanzas, brief though they are, swagger with old-school New Yawk City attitude. It wraps up a lo-fi gem from way before the lo-fi movement’s rise to indie prominence. There are many worthy releases in the Xpressway vaults, but Pure is one of the best.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A
