Jon Spencer Blues Explosion
Orange

Jon Spencer is a rock 'n roll beast. He's a straightforward man, exuding everything that is sickly and perverse in music. There's no blood in his veins, only adrenaline in excitement. And Spencer's music comes from within, from that adrenaline. Spencer is, quoting Lou, the perfect "Rock 'n Roll Machine."

This does not mean that his music is just a cold revival of a bygone era. Spencer has his own edge, which, if we want to generalize, is, or rather was, embodied with the musical soul of the '90s decade. His music doesn't just energetically celebrate the feats of the old bluesmen and the early rockers from the origins of modern music. There is in Spencer's music a desire to transcend all rock 'n roll canons, not avoiding them, but molding them with an alternative attitude. This can be seen in numerous other groups from the early '90s (after all, that's where the so-called "post-rock" was born), but Spencer did it wildly, not geometrically planning all the music at the drawing board, but authentically, with violence, with a harsh impact that is fierce but explosive, visceral in its authenticity.

And "Orange" is perhaps the perfect/imperfect syncretism of Spencer's music, a combination that spills over, in the most live and jammed tradition, rockabilly, blues, funk, and odd rhythms not far from post, all at once, acidly corroding the underground '94 landscape on the wave of the apocalypse, with the end of "you know who, or rather what" and a bulimic search for novelty through the modernization of the "classic" (with due exceptions).

"Orange" is not only a demonstration of talent and explosive simplicity, but it is something more, it's a compact and coherent album, which, despite its spontaneity, is orderly and dynamic. And it's not easy to organize a potpourri properly, but Spencer manages it by tying everything to his personality, letting every sound, every melody, pass through his veins, his adrenaline, calibrating bullets of dazzling and explosive rock 'n roll, slippery and filthy as it once was. And here's where the varied and disorderly multiplicity becomes a "spontaneous assemblage" unitary of more or less seen clichés, revitalized by Spencer as no one else has done in a revival, if we want to limit ourselves to calling it that for the Blues Explosion's music.

Just turn on the stereo or whatever it is, and listen to "Bellbottoms," pure bloody rock 'n roll, nicely roasted. It's the Blues Explosion, hard, acid, but vital, visceral. And that's just the beginning, every track is a touch of class, sounds wonderful. The rambling funky stride of "Ditch," with a beautifully pompous ending, complete with a tormented sax. The rapid "Dang" (hooray for fuzz), sharp, nasty, energy that becomes tangible matter. "Very Rare," an exercise in style, a minimal execution of music. The oblique title track, which synthesizes the band's post edge, Spencer's band, uneven drums scouring raw and dirty guitars, something that might remind of Royal Trux (but unlike Spencer, they repulse me, no offense). The goofy "Blues X Man," with a caustic diatribe at the end that reeks of orgy. And the spectacular "Flavor," a funk 'n roll crossover, with a dub digression featuring none other than Beck (another '90s personality I admire), dictating a rap on a strictly lo-fi base.

In conclusion, if you want to discover an extraordinary musician like Spencer, I would say that "Orange" is the record that channels all the facets of a histrionic Spencer, who doesn't just serve cold dishes of the history of an era, but serves roasts without smoke that reconstruct that history, the one that is still so idolized and remembered, the one that, especially in recent years, people try to copy-paste, from the ground up.