Emerging from the guts of 1980s London, Nick Saloman’s The Bevis Frond is a potent ’60s psych-rock flavored treat. Helping to pioneer DIY album making, the Frond’s unexpected success triggered a move into “real” studio environs as the ’90s dawned; earlier this year Fire Records reissued Saloman’s first two home recorded LPs with bonus material, and they’ve wasted no time in unveiling ’90s Any Gas Faster, ’91’s New River Head, and ’92’s London Stone. Together they form a vivid portrait of a consistently underestimated artist in transition as he pursued a creative trajectory of unusual abundance; all three are out now on LP, CD, and digital.
Where a fair amount of material from the pre-digital glory days of home studio recording luxuriates in a learn-as-one-goes aura adorned with varying levels of unchecked ambition (i.e. lack of discipline), Nick Saloman had his act together from the beginning, and there’s no greater evidence than Fire’s first two Frond reissues as the endeavor approaches 30 years of existence.
This is not to downplay the boldness of conception that makes Miasma and Inner Marshland so special. Undeniably impacted by the psychedelic ‘60s, Saloman immediately distinguished himself from the decade’s retro garage hoards through strength of songwriting and a thorough sidestepping of calculated trappings. But don’t get the notion one couldn’t sniff the incense and envision the paisley, it’s just that the Frond ultimately pitched a tent much closer to fellow Brits Spacemen 3 and Walkingseeds than to say The Chesterfield Kings.
Furthermore, as a home recorder he was also able to document his inspiration while ripe rather than having it ossify as he scraped up money for a studio date or quickly signed a contract with a label to secure recording time. Indeed, Saloman had started his own imprint Woronzow, spanning back to 1980 with releases by his band of the time the Von Trap Family, and as a result the Frond kicked out three LPs in 1987 alone.
By the following year he’d secured a productive deal with Reckless and it was really only a matter of time before he landed in a professional studio. While he’s an authentic example of early “lo-fi” in action, the transition occurred with hardly any trace of anxiety as Any Gas Faster flaunted strengthened song craft and subtly increased his contemporary verve.
For instance, opener “Lord Plentiful Reflects” heightens an already extant vocal similarity to Elvis Costello as Saloman honed his stated intention to merge Hendrix, The Byrds, and Wipers. That surely reads like a tall order, but the trick is the avoidance of nods to overplayed ’60s importance; there’s a reason he made the cut for Rhino’s Children of Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the Second Psychedelic Era, 1976–1995.
“Rejection Day” is bluesy minus fat, and “Ear Song” resonates like Heartbreakers-era Petty freed of the burden of radio play and album sales. There are numerous wrinkles, such as how the acoustic psych-pop gem “This Corner of England” wafts a scent mildly similar to Robert Pollard, a circumstance that connects a little deeper later on via “Old Sea Dog.”
Hitting the scene at roughly the same time, Saloman and Pollard’s shared facets stand up nicely due to their coincidental nature; both utilized lo-fi without leaning on it as a crutch, both brandished a non-retro ’60s influence, and both wielded striking prolificacy. If the outpouring of Frond product lessened the quality overall, it did so only slightly; Any Gas Faster is a very consistent release, even in expanded form (adding tracks from the “Ear Song” EP), with the highpoint of the whole being the truly splendid pop-rock specimen with exactly the right touch of ache “Your Mind’s Gone Grey.”
But don’t get the false impression of Saloman as simply a talented songwriter; he could definitely rock hard and jam expansively, these aspects seeping into New River Head, an excursion many consider to be the masterpiece in The Bevis Frond oeuvre. Instrumental opener “White Sun” sports some comely sax wiggle from Cyke Bancroft followed by “Drowned,” augmenting a fine piece of melodicism with attractive electric piano.
Spreading 30 tracks across two discs, there’s plenty of room for diversity, the acoustic “Waving” offering a touch of Brit-folk (courtesy of guest fiddler Barry Dransfield) mingled with similarities to Costello’s abilities as writer; this element recurs intermittently across the set and reaches its apex on the combo of “Wild Jack Hammer” and the shitty male behavior exposé “He’d Be a Diamond.”
In case anybody’s worried about too much refinement, “Solar Marmalade” spreads out a hard-psych proposition to over eight minutes and the swank “The Miskatonic Variations II” (part one is found on the ’88 compilation Acid Jam as credited to The Parthenogenetick Brotherhood of Woronzow) more than doubles the duration as it features Bancroft, Dransfield, Saloman’s UK neo-psych cohort Bari Watts (of The Outskirts of Infinity), ex-Hawkwind/ Frond mainstay Adrian Shaw, and Current 93’s David Tibet.
Clocking in at over two and a half hours with bonus tracks, New River Head is surely unwieldly, and yet this reality becomes increasingly endearing over repeated plays, the vastness helping to define the set as something like Saloman’s finest moment. If one chooses to own only one record by the guy (bluntly a duff idea), this should be it.
Unsurprisingly, London Stone scales things back more than a little and in so doing has sometimes been derided as a misstep or a minor effort; although it’s not up to the standard of the previous two, it has aged pretty well and today rises above its nagging rep. Dransfield’s fiddle returns, his swell unaccompanied trad “Stonedance” opening a set that has much of worth to offer as it largely stays in the straight-up rocking zone, especially as the songs and playing retain a high standard.
Along the way the set leans as much toward indie motions as it does the ’60s norm, with a prime example being “That Same Morning”; this isn’t really a shock, as alongside Guided by Voices the Frond could occasionally conjure thoughts of fellow Brits Teenage Fanclub. And hey, when the strands of indie and psych intertwine, as they do on the terrific “Coming Round” (and the even better demo version, one of six bonus cuts), Saloman’s garnering of so much goodwill over the years is clearly understandable.
“Living Soul” is less appealing as its Hendrixian gyrating gets uncomfortably close to a Lenny Kravitz-like stomp; the rock edge of “Well Out of It” and the title track are less troublesome, but much cooler is the vaguely Paisley Underground-ish “Still Trying,” and while not totally successful, “A Most Singular Hole” kinda comes off like Costello grappling with the thrust of ’70s Traffic.
“Freedom Falling” and original LP closer “On a Liquid Wheel” move to the border of singer-songwriter territory, the former with solid guitar and the latter recalling melodic rock at the cusp of the ’80s. Dransfield gets more licks in during the folky standout “Lord of Nothing,” “And Now She’s Gone” does the ’90s-’60s mingle at a faster pace, and the extra tunes are worth sticking around for, particularly the aforementioned demo, the full-blown psych-pop of “Another Song About Dying,” and the blazing finale “Hail the Child Philosopher.”
London Stone might be the least of these welcome reissues, but it’s a strong enough showing that folks already in line for the other two should seriously consider snapping up the whole bunch.
Any Gas Faster
A-
New River Head
A
London Stone
B+
