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CAN YOU IMAGINE ALL THAT MILK?
CAN WE W H O
M A N T H E SHIP
O F S TAT E DENY
IT IS SOME WHAT
OUT OF CONTROL
Ronald Reagan • State of the Union Message
on Economic Recovery • February, 18. 1981
The year was 1980, and Detroit was getting ready to play host to thousands of Republican conventioneers who were holding their quadrennial shindig in the Motor City.
In a breathtaking moment of silliness, someone decided to install brand-new awnings
on the windows of the recently abandoned Statler Hotel, so as not to offend any of the
visiting GOP functionaries with the depressing urban financial realities of the day.
Meanwhile, the members of Detroit band Was (Not Was) were engaging in a bold musical experiment, splicing the genes of jazz, rock, R&B, and funk. With their futuristic
grooves and intelligent (if twisted) lyrics, Was (Not Was) didn’t hide the local decay
behind fake awnings. It gathered its ethnically diverse ranks, dressed the decay up in
some fine threads and took it out dancing.
The band’s ringleaders were Don Was (Donald Fagenson) and David Was (David
Weiss). These brothers (of the soul variety) were in a good position to point out the
absurdities of American life in the early ‘80s. Hailing from the scrubbed inner-ring Detroit suburb of Oak Park, the pair met in eighth grade, appropriately enough when they
were both waiting in the principal’s office for discipline. The young friends cut their
teeth listening to the homegrown sounds of Motown singles and the MC5. Add plenty
of LSD and a healthy dose of the Firesign Theater to their natural mischievousness,
mix well, and you’ve got a good idea of the part of the woodwork these freaks creaked
out of.
Don spent some time as a journeyman jazz player around Detroit, while David moved
to Los Angeles and worked as a jazz critic for the Herald Examiner. But the pair kept
in touch and eventually formed the band in a bid to go down in glory. Along the way,
they assembled a crack team of musicians, including glorious frontman Sweet Pea
Atkinson, a former Detroit auto worker whose rich vocal qualities recall Otis Redding or Sam Cooke. Also bringing soul to the ensemble was former O’Jays singer Sir
Harry Bowens. The rock edge came from ex-MC5 guitarist Wayne Kramer, while the
jazz tinge came from trumpeter Marcus Belgrave who performed for decades with
the bands of Charles Mingus and Ray Charles. Parliament/Funkadelic’s flamboyant
percussionist Larry Fratangelo brought the funk, and the group was rounded out by
saxman David McMurray, guitarist Randy Jacobs, and pianist Luis Resto.
It would be hard to understand the self-titled debut album by Was (Not Was) apart
from its political context-especially with Brother Wayne in tow. (As John Sinclair noted
when talking about music and politics in the liner notes of the MC5’s Kick Out the Jams,
« There is no separation »). But the band steered clear of didactic rambling, instead
choosing to work in character studies. There’s motorcycle Michael who hasn’t been
the same since Vietnam. There’s the chick from Ecuador who wants to talk about the
moon. There’s the father who hallucinates that the sky is ablaze with ladies’ legs. All
of them are interesting characters, if slightly askew.
It may have been 13 years after the rebellion that saw the Motor City burn when this
record came out, but Ronald Reagan was soon to win the nomination and declare it
« morning in America. » But if it was morning in America, it sure seemed pitch black in
the Motor City. In fact, even Reagan acknowledged that not all was right. “Can we who
man the ship of state deny it is somewhat out of control?” he asked in his State of the
Union address on economic recovery in 1981. A sample of that assessment features
prominently in the Was (Not Was) cut « Tell Me That I’m Dreaming, »
Another line from that same song seems to sum up the ‘80s gimmie gimmie gimmie
culture. The song asks: « One man liked milk, now he owns a million cows. Can you
imagine all that milk? » Sure. But where do I get me a glass?
Now that we’ve got the context out of the way, we can talk about the music. This debut Was (Not Was) album is a glorious postmodern statement. The nuclear glow over
suburbia on the front cover is an invitation to the party. All of the earmarks of later Was
(Not Was) were there: the cast-of-thousands backing band, the razor blade smile lyrics, the burbling funk. It was that kind of metallic cool that only really plays in Detroit
and Europe.
This set begins with « Out Come the Freaks, » an essential cut that comes off as a
dance manifesto. Next up is « Where Did Your Heart Go, » a dark, sinister, steamymanhole, sunglasses-at-night soundtrack to the rain-soaked streets of a blaxploitation thriller. On the aforementioned « Tell Me That I’m Dreaming, » Don Was crafts a
bassline every bit as catchy and primal as « Flashlight » or « Good Times/Rapper’s
Delight » behind surreal lyrics. « Oh, Mr. Friction » closes out the first side of the vinyl.
The flip begins with « Carry Me Back to Old Morocco, » a soaring cut filled with
mystery. « It’s an Attack, » is a hard funk ode to paranoia, while « The Sky’s Ablaze » is a
noir radio thriller. Closing out the album is « Go…Now » is a powerful, fist-of-god stomp
that showed a sense of hope alongside the postmodern angst. Kramer plays a blistering solo that dissolves into a wash of hard funk horns. Goosebump time!Rounding out
this release are some remixes and other hard-to-find tracks including three remixes of
« Tell Me that I’m Dreaming » and two remixes of « Out Come the Freaks. » Among
the notable songs are « Wheel Me Out » and « Hello operator...I mean dad...I mean
police... I can’t even remember who I am, » which comprised the first Was (Not Was)
single on ZE Records. The band submitted a demo tape with a letter from the jazz
critic of the LA Herald Examiner (who, you’ll remember happened to be David Weiss).
Also included is « Dance or Die » from Sweet Pea Atkinson’s solo album « Don’t Walk
Away, » (which, inshallah, will be re-released in its entirety someday).
A few years after this record was first unleashed, the inventors of Detroit Techno
began mining for butt-shakin’ gold. But many of those aesthetic innovations were already present in the oeuvre of Was (Not Was)-the cool, metallic sheen; the futuristic
settings; the strange voices, the infectious hooks.
Now, 23 years later, those tattered awnings still hang on the Statler, which is still empty
and decaying. But this music is more durable. So enjoy, and if we’re lucky and dance
all night, maybe when we leave the club it really will be morning in America.
Brian J. Bowe, Editor in Chief CREEM Magazine : January, 2004.
OUT COME THE FREAKS
When the sun goes down they hit the streets
In the bars to try and meet
Some other stranger to ease the pain
Of living alone ‘till it drives them insane
The woodwork squeaks
And out come the freaks
Yeah, the woodwork squeaks
And out come the freaks
Like little Michael on his motorcycle
With leather pants & a leather brain
He ain’t never been the same since Vietnam
Keeps his heart locked-up in a vest
And his eyes inside his shoes
Doesn’t ever want to lose them in a fight
You never know what might go down tonight
The woodwork squeaks
And out come the freaks
Open the door & there’s Suzanne
She eats her breakfast from the pan
She never even burns her tongue
And someday she’d like to
Get hung up on a millionaire
She don’t even care
If he ain’t got no hair
She says “Long as he signs the check
I figure what the heck
I’ll get him a toupee
What more can you say?
The woodwork squeaks
And out come the freaks
Detroit Johnny don’t wear no tie
Cause he says it hurts his neck
He’s got a chick from Ecuador tonight
She wants to talk about the moon,
She says it used to be her frien
But the doctors put an end to all of that
A part of me is lost for good
Do you really understand
I do says Johnny
As he grabs her hand
WHERE DID YOUR HEART GO ?
Where did your heart go?
Did you put it on a train?
Did you leave it in the rain
Or down in Mexico?
I spend my nights down on the wharf
In unlit alleyways
Next to the church downtown
Where Sally prays
Come down sometime
We’ll eat a rusty can of corn
And listen to the radio
I love you, I love you
It says
Where did your heart go?
Did you put it on a train?
Did you leave it in the rain
or down in Mexic?
You cry but I don’t
I’ve seen it all before
There it goes again
The slamming of the doors
Sometimes the river calls me
In the night it calls my name
Says put your troubles down beside me
Things have always been the same
Rock and roll can’t teach me
What the river said that night
I jumped into its beauty
And drifted out of sight
TELL ME THAT I’M DREAMING
I pulled into your town
Saw two signs
“West and West”
Tell me that I’m dreaming
Turned down a “No-way street”
And saw another sign
“Drive in reverse”
Or something like it
(We talked like men
And ate fish at the end of the pier)
I tried to walk, but how ?
The rest of you were dancing
With pointy shoes on
Somebody pinch me
Am I -- ?
Was I ?
Did I -- away the night ?
New Shoes, laser breakfast,
Fast target vehicles
Leather house,
Dreaming, somebody pinch me!
Nightwatchman at a bank
Made some pirates walk the plank
Tell me that I’m dreaming
One man liked milk,
Now he owns a million cows
Can you imagine all that milk?
Tell me that I’m dreaming
OH, MR. FRICTION!
Drink from bottle when I home alone
Spank the kids with a fork
Run the appliances high-speed all day
Switch stations every 5 seconds
We are mostly mute with one another
Sounds of unexpected voices shock us
Talk is rarely squandered
is it a favor or a threat?
Long term plan or just a scam?
What’d you say?
Say it over!
You know, your hands give you away
Is it evil or selfish or for criminal gain?
If it takes 20 seconds
can you repeat it again?
What’s it mean
Straight out with it
Or don’t say it at all
I can take it,
Call me Judas
I’m a bastard,
I’ll admit it
I’m Mr. Friction
(Girls: Oh, Mr. Friction!)
I can force you to tell me
Friction accepts no lies / I accept all lies
I am the main lie
You can’t lie to a lie
Johnny Yuma was a copper
Johnny Yuma...
See what you done now???
Now I’m a gangster,
Can’t speaka no ingles:
Hopsa hopsa Lorry.
Quanna quanna quanna may
Iomtali. Iomtalo. Hey hey hey
Drink from bottle when I home alone
Spank the kids with a fork
Run the appliances high-speed all day
switch stations every five seconds
Don’t bring me help
I don’t like it when you stare
What’s wrong?
Water’s running everywhere
Hot water even on my lawn
Don’t ask what’s wrong
This is intentional
Blang, blang, blang, blang
who called the cops?
I said I’d be alright
I-I-I gotta get th-the carrots out
I said I’m coming with dynamite!!!
CARRY ME BACK
TO OLD MAROCCO
Carry me back to Old Morocco
Where the tea is strong and so are the people
Rama Rama Rama - watch me now
You made a song disappear
I was hearing in my head
Now the cactuses are talking
And I sleep in the wind
I was really getting there
Then you came and all was bare
You said you’d come back soon
But it’s too late
It’s too late
Carry me back to Old Morocco
Where the tea is strong and so are the people
Rama Rama Rama - watch me now
I was choking on the fish I ate for dinner
It was good while it lasted
I should’ve fasted, I almost had it yesterday
Song tied up my ankles
Couldn’t walk, couldn’t wiggle
Then you came along
United the song
And let its long golden fingers
Grasp the wind
It was good while it lasted
It was good while it lasted
IT’S AN ATTACK!
They’re coming out the hills
They’re coming out the water
They’re pouring off the prairie,
It’s an attack!
They’re screaming like banshees,
They’re coming fully loaded
They’re coming for your blood, boy,
It’s an attack!
Carry me back to Old Morocco
Where the tea is strong and so are the people
Rama Rama Rama - watch me now...
Fire in the sky tonight,
Rumbling from the moon tonight
Restaurants no serve tonight,
Nobody’s gonna sleep tonight
I was really almost there
Pulling handfuls of white hair
From the surface of the moon
They’re leaping out of airplanes,
Moving fast like locomotives
It’s a shock and a nightmare;
it’s an attack!
They’re teasing all the young girls,
Digging holes in my driveway
Peace and love that’s a joke!
It’s an attack!
Sharpen all your kitchen knives,
Get out of the bath right now
Turn on all your T.V. sets,
Money cannot help you now
It’s an attack
THE SKY’S ABLAZE My father
Used to take a drink or two
When I was young
It was then hallucinations
Always dangled from his tongue
The sky’s ablaze with ladies’ legs
He used to say
They’re kicking from the clouds
Shoes fall through the morning haze
And splat like eggs amongst the crowds
Can you see them, son? my father asked
Now they’re dancing plain as day
His eyes were rolling fiercely,
There was little I could say
How can you go on? I’d like to ask
How can you bear the night?
Instead I hold my tongue,
Because I know we’d only fight
The sky’s ablaze with ladies legs, he’d say
They’re kicking from the clouds,
Shoes fall through the morning haze
And splat like eggs amongst the crowds,
Can you see it, boy?
GO…NOW !
We are small
But we’re all there is
It’s you and I
Why look to the sky
We all know how
There ain’t No Doubt
The time is now
That’s all we know about
Put out your hand
Get all you can
Freedom!
All across the land
Put your feet on the floor
Walk on out the door
There’s air to breathe
Who could ask for more?
Go...now!
Go...now!
Go...now!
Go...now!
Life on earth is a carnival ride
On a blue balloon
Passin’ by the moon
What time it is?
Huh! It’s always time
That’s all there is
The rest is in your mind
WHEEL ME OUT
Wheel me out
Wheel me out
Wheel me out
Wheel me out
I’m rolling on these wheels
I’m really in the mood today
I’m the former scientist
Now I’m a realist
And I was discouraged by you
You, who have never pushed the wheels
You did it to me
And I’m next
Then I was discouraged by you
Then I was discouraged by you
You did it to him
And I am next
You... you... you dit it
Then I was discouraged by you
I am really in the mood today
Then I was discouraged by you
Discouraged by you
You never pushed the wheels
You did it to him
And I’m next
Now I’m next
And I’m next
Wheel me outWWW
(RETURN TO THE VALLEY OF)
OUT COME THE FREAKS
Eddie Harold used a tape recorder
When he had one of his girlfriends over
He didn’t want to miss a single scream
His friends all laughed when he played it later
You had to wonder, did he really hate her?
Girls always made him nervous, that’s to blame
And makin’ love was just a crazy game
The woodwork squeaks and out come the freaks,
oh yeah
The woodwork squeaks and out come the freaks,
oh yeah
In her apartment was a plastic altar
She’d light a candle when her courage faltered
Sometimes the world got a little hard to bear
It wasn’t easy living in the city
She wasn’t clever and she wasn’t pretty
She chanted in the night but no one cared
The woodwork squeaks and out come the freaks
The woodwork squeaks and out come the freaks
Freddie’s wife became a topless dancer
Had bondage parties with a Turkish bouncer
She’s been evicted, the police have got her car
She tried to sell an antique shotgun
She said she knows some crazy guy who wants
one
Her parents said “You’re not our daughter, you’re
a whore”
“It’s over and you don’t live here anymore”
The woodwork squeaks and out come the freaks
The woodwork squeaks and Strangers In The
Night
The woodwork squeaks and Papa’s Got A
Brand New Bag
We’re talkin’ ‘bout...
The woodwork squeaks and The Shadow Of
Your Smile
Ooh, we’re talkin’ ‘bout...
The woodwork squeaks and take the Last Train
To Clarksville
Mmm, ahh, the woodwork squeaks and out
come the freaks, oh
CHRISTMAS TIME IN MOTOR CITY
Christmastime in the Motor City
But things ain’t really pretty
Leather, streets of paper, rusty pennies
Smell of money in the air
But you kip on a dollar anywhere!
I’m out of work, it’s been awhile
So don’t ask me to smile
I ain’t no scrooge, I liked December
But I can’t even remember
Seeing Santa Claus this year
Well I heard he got a job
And he’s changing me to Bob
Took a shave in the lobby of a Cadillac Hotel
They gave him unemployment but no food
stamps
“We’ll give you jobs
But there’s no free soup for the tramps”
Christmastime in the Motor City
But things ain’t really pretty
Yeah, the streets are paved with rusty pennies
Smell of moneys in the air
(Air, air, air, air, air, air...)
It was not a night to be with birds
Christmas Eve without the tender words
Without a place to call my home
Sharing a square in the park with the pigeons
Combing my hair and feeding them bread
They bobbed their heads and walked right up
Their cup is filled but mine got spilled along the way
At 2:00 a.m., I’m off the streets, sitting in a donut shop
A sad-eyed girl mops the floor next to my feet
The light in here is far too bright, the radio is
playing “Silent Night”
I sit and watch the traffic pass, it sails away
Look at this...It’s Christmas Day...
Christmastime in the Motor City
But things ain’t really pretty
Yeah, the streets are pave with rusty pennies
Smell of moneys in the air
(Air, air, air, air, air, air...)
WHEN THE DANCEFLOOR SQUEAKS, OUT COME THE GEEKS
It’s not hard to understand why Michael Zilkha & Michel Esteban’s ZE Records
and the whole punk-funk, disco-not-disco thang of the early 80s has been
rediscovered by a new generation looking for their own answers to music’s
eternal mind-body problem. ZE offered a seductive vision of the world where
style collided with substance, where deconstruction made a reconcilliation
with melody and hooks, where groove embraced distortion, where punk’s
outcast geek was transformed by the fairy godmother of disco into a « Halston,
Gucci... Fiorucci » clad suavecito with a social conscience and a brain.
If this moment in dance music history can be seen as the revenge of the
nerd, the class valedictorians were undoubtedly Was (Not Was). The group
was formed in 1980 by two childhood friends (Donald Fagenson and David
Weiss) from Detroit who had spent their adolescence locked in each other’s
basements listening to The MC5, Frank Zappa, John Coltrane and Firesign
Theatre. Such listening habits inevitably led to a surfeit of ideas which came
tumbling out every which way on their records: reggae skank guitar, Robert
Quine-style solos courtesy of The MC5’s Wayne Kramer, surreal, sarcastic
lyrics via Dylan and Lenny Bruce, James Brown/Nile Rodgers chicken scratch,
rudimentary synth riffs, basslines that alternated between Jah Wobble’s work
with PiL and Terry Lewis’ Minneapolis sound, paranoia that seemed to come
straight from a 1950s public service announcement. It was all wrapped up in
the brittle production values that marked the 80s - the eggshell sound lending
a piquancy to the rueful observations of the façades of the age of Reagan and
Thatcher. However, while they probably combined dub, jazz, punk, funk and
studio alchemy more elegantly than any other group of the time, Was (Not
Was) could also be victims of their own intelligence and refusal to recognize
boundaries.
Left to their own devices, Was (Not Was) were like The Bonzo Dog Band,
the Merry Pranksters and Gang of Four on a New Orleans funeral parade
led by Parliafunkadelicment. On their extended remixes, though, their music
became more streamlined and honed down to a razor smoothness. The
remix process and the dancefloor forced Fagenson and Weiss to focus on
one idea rather than the 30 they had running around their heads. Their wild
eclecticism was restrained as was their tartness. Where most remixes are
created simply to get more bodies on to the dancefloor, the mixes collected
on « (The Woodwork) Squeaks » actually shed light on the messages of the
songs rather than merely their grooves. Of course, the goal of the best dance
music is to get you to think with your entire body and that’s exactly what Was
(Not Was) succeeded in doing. After all, it’s not merely the détourned words
of Ronald Reagan that let you know that « Tell Me That I’m Dreaming » is
not your ordinary hands-in-the-air disco stomper; it’s the astringent guitar riff,
the dub alienation, the comedic voices, the sibilant hi-hat that would soon
become the hallmark of house music.
The early 80s were a time when every musical genre seemed to converge,
when a tangent that began in, say, punk would suddenly be picked up a
month later by hip-hop, when the currents that would become house and
techno were coursing through the wires of dance music. Don Was’ partner
on the first two remixes here, the Traditional 12» mix of « Tell Me That I’m
Dreaming » and the Predominantly Funk version of « Out Come the Freaks
» was Ken Collier, a legendary Detroit DJ who was a crucial influence on the
then-emerging techno scene. Collier’s credentials as a house and techno
pioneer can be seen all over his mixes here, particularly in the bassline and
sparse rhythms of the « Out Come the Freaks » remix. Collier died of diabetic
complications in 1996, and these sterling, groundbreaking mixes stand as a
fitting testament to his influence.
Even without Collier, though, these remixes are often extraordinary.« Wheel
Me Out », produced and mixed by Don Was and longtime partner in crime
Jack Tann (who was in Was’ early punk bands The Traitors and President
Eisenhower), represents everything great about the merging of post-punk and
dance music in the early 80s. It was cathartic yet eerie and uncomfortable,
cryptically political, full of nuance and intrigue. Another reason that Was (Not
Was) and the whole punk-dance schtick resonates now is their sharp, acidic,
left-wing cynicism. It’s a voice that almost the entirety of today’s popular music
has silenced. This isn’t the bedazzled groove of Timbaland or The Neptunes
embracing money, glitz and technology with equal verve. This is dance music
as a way of shaking off the heebie jeebies, shedding off the skin of the daytime
daze, jolting you out of your nightmares, only for you to realize that you weren’t
imagining anything. Please, « Tell me that I’m dreaming ».
Peter Shapiro, London december 2003.
ORIGINAL ALBUM
01 • Wheel Me Out Long Version (Bonus Track) • 7:06
02 • Out Come The Freaks • 5:39
03 • Where Did Your Heart Go? • 4.57
04 • Tell Me That I’m Dreaming • 5:00
05 • Oh, Mr Friction • 3:33
06 • Carry Me Back To Old Morocco • 6:01
07 • It’s An Attack! • 3:10
08 • The Sky’s Ablaze • 2:15
09 • Go ... Now! • 5:30
BONUS TRACKS
10 • Hello Operator Short Version • 2:51
11 • Out Come The Freaks Again • 4:37
12 • Tell Me That I’m Dreaming 12 • 7:48
13 • Out Come The Freaks 12 • 7:10
14 • (Return To The Valley Of) Out Come The Freaks • 4:20
15 • Christmas Time In Motor City • 2:55
16 • Out Come The Freaks Dub Version • 6:30
CREDITS
Produced in Detroit by Don Was, David Was & Jack Tann fot John Lewis productions •
Recording & mixing engineer : Don Was • Dance mixes : Ken Collier
Recorded at the Sound Suite January>March 1981
Executive producer Michael Zilkha
Original Artwork
Front Cover & Liner photography : Dirk Bakker • Airbrush : Terry Robeson
Typeset/Keyline : Bill Thomas • Art direction : Maverse Payers
Reissue Digipack & Booklet Art direction & Design by Michel Esteban
Photos (not photos) Pages 4,8 & 9 by Robert Matheu • Pages 6 & 19 by Paul Natkin
Special Thanks to Robert Matheu, Paul Natkin & Brian J.Bowe
MUSICIANS
David Was : Alto Sax, Piano, Vocals
Don Was : Vocals, Bass, Moog Synthesizer, Vibes, Clavinet
Marcus Belgrave : Trumpet, Flugelhorn
Luis Resto : Oberheim Obx & Arp synthesizeres , Accoustic Piano
David McMurray : Soprano, Alto & Tenor, Sax
Larry Fratangelo : Percussion
Wayne Kramer : Guitar
Bruce Nazarian : Guitar
Ricky Rouse : Guitar
Kevin Tschirhart : Percussion, Electronic Handclaps
Franklin K. Funklyn McCullers : Drums
Jerry Jones : Drums
Jervonny Collier : Bass
Lamont Johnson : Bass
Irwin Krinsky : Piano
Carl ‘Butch’ Small : Percussion, Rap Vocals
Armand Angeloni : Tenor Sax, Piccolo Flute
Mack Pitt : Mandolin
Mark Johnson : Moog Synthesizer
Raymond Johnson : Rhodes Electric Piano
Sweet Pea Atkinson : Lead Vocals on « Where Did Your Heart Go? », « It’s An Attack »
Harry Bowens : Lead Vocals on « Out Come The Freaks », « Tell Me That I’m Dreaming »
Marzanne McCants as the chick from Ecuador
Liz Weiss as the former scientist, now on wheels
Backing Vocals : Carol Hall, Carolyn Crawford, Kathy Kosins, Michelle Goulet, Sheila Horne
Johnny Allen : Strings Arrangements on « Where Did Your Heart Go
This Selection Selected and Produced by Michel Esteban
Original Sound Recording Made by ZE Records © 1981
Remastered by RV at Translab Paris, December 2003
This Reissue p & © 2009 ZE Records Mundo Ltda
Special Thanks to David & Don Was & Michael Zilkha