Place it on the deck, let the needle hit the groove and… Oh man, I had forgotten just how damn good this album is!
That’s one of the beautiful things about the current trend in repressing cult albums on vinyl – it brings into focus albums that, perhaps, have been overshadowed by other works. Here we have Frank Black’s third solo album, The Cult Of Ray, lovingly pressed on electric blue vinyl (neatly matching the sleeve) and housed in a printed liner. The album has been long out of print, but its resurrection (courtesy of Demon Records) is most certainly overdue.
As I recall, the album was not a critical hit at the time, arriving at a point where the initial media hype surrounding the US alternative scene was cooling, and the surviving artists were on their way back to the underground. Heading into the local record store back then, I remember picking up copies of Men In Black and I Don’t Want To Hurt You (Every Single Time) for the exclusive b sides they offered. I was pleased to have them, but surprised that the album yielded three singles – an unusual promotional drive for an artist whose influence at that time was only just beginning to really be felt in the wake of the Pixies.
The Cult Of Ray didn’t only mark a transitional time for music. It was also a transitional point for Franck Black, who was already shifting his production style. Two years later, he’d reappear as the leader of Frank Black and the Catholics, recording live to two-track tape; and The Cult of Ray, although featuring the bulk of The Catholics, would be the last album released solely under his name until 2004. Thus, having been recorded on 16 track, 2” tape, The Cult Of Ray offers a much richer, more expansive sound than the albums that followed, and this newly mastered vinyl edition really brings out the analogue warmth of the recording.
Kicking off with The Marsisist (one of the album’s three singles) the album hits the ground running in a swirl of feedback and amp hum. The quiet-loud dynamic of the Pixies is on full display here, Dave McCaffrey’s slinky basslines nicely providing a counter to Frank’s gonzo guitars and, by splitting the guitars left-right, Frank (who produced the album) gets remarkable clarity out of a track that, in most hands, would be sonic spaghetti. Men In Black, a track I remember well, has lost none of its charms, the chugging central riff played surprisingly straight and giving way to a memorable chorus in a Debaser mould. it’s a reminder that few can touch Frank Black when it comes to crafting spiky, subversive singles, and there’s real energy to be found here. In contrast, the title of Punk Rock City is something of a misnomer, cleaving closer to latter day Bowie (think Reality) than the genre of the title…Indeed, Bowie appeared to acknowledge this, repaying the compliment when covering the Pixies’ Cactus on Heathen. Surf rock is the order of the day on You Ain’t Me, Scott Butler pounding his drums into matchwood as Frank throws out oblique Lewis Carrol references. The head down punk rush of Jesus Was Right feels like it should have been huge with the skater kids and it’s a shame it wasn’t a single in the place of I Don’t Want To Hurt You (Every Single Time), although the latter, with its regret-fuelled lyrics, does more to show the diversity within the album. Musically restrained, with an indie-country vibe more in keeping with the Meat Puppets’ output at the time, it brings the first side of the LP to a chilled conclusion.
Kicking off side 2 Scott’s drums lead the explosive charge of Mosh, Don’t Pass The Guy, a crazed instrumental that feels like a scene setter for the lyrically-bizarre (even by Frank Black standards) Kicked In The Taco a track that, oddly, sounds like The Smashing Pumpkins jamming on Pixies’ B sides. The creeping bass of The Creature Crawling sets up an abstract adventure that boasts some of the album’s most inventive guitar work. It’s followed by another instrumental, in the form of The Adventure And The Resolution, a sub-three-minute trip peppered with wordless “oohs” and heavily echo-laden guitar figures. A sci-fi influenced piece, the second half of this short piece (The Resolution) is so brilliantly off the wall that it, unfortunately, detracts from the impact of the scuzzy Dance War. An otherwise fine track, you can’t help but feel it would have been better placed on the more conventional side one (or perhaps left for a B side), especially when it’s followed by the electrifying title track. The album finishes with a lyrically restrained testament to the fatal beating of teenage student Shazeb Andleeb in 1995. It makes for a surprisingly poignant album closer, Frank honouring his subject with a piece of music that recalls the David Lynch digressions of Come On Pilgrim.
Come On Ray is an underrated album in Frank Black’s storied canon and this vinyl remaster, electric blue in colour and crackle-free, offers the perfect opportunity for fans to reappraise the record. It’s not perfect, perhaps. Side two suffers from some odd choices with regards sequencing, not least in the decision to place the album’s two instrumental pieces so close together. However, structural choices notwithstanding, there are some absolute gems on the album, and it races through its run time with typically scattershot abandon. To listen again, is to get caught up in Frank’s wickedly playful spirit, and it’s a must for anyone who has found themselves in awe of the Pixies’ recent work – be sure to grab a copy. 8.5
