Junk Box Jury

“Wild Blue Yonder” taken from the album ‘Gun-Shy’ (WEA WX41) 1986

The Screaming Blue Messiahs | Gun-Shy | (WEA) | What’s this with the bald-headed guys? First it was Mr. Clean, then Isaac Hayes, then Tony Levin, then Richie Hass, then that geek in Midnight Oil, and now this guy in the Screaming Blue Messiahs. On the back cover he looks suspiciously similar to Devine immediately before she was electrocuted in Female Trouble.

What gives? Is chemotherapy becoming more prevalent, or is running the chrome dome the latest fashion dictate that we’ll all soon be forced to emulate? Could you imagine what would happen if Madonna doffed her locks and opted for the naked cue-ball look/ it would result in a nation of lemming like teenage girls walking around like zombie clones of the late, great Yul Brynner. Fantastic!

Perhaps featuring a freaky-looking baldie on a record jacket is designed to catch your attention for a moment – the moment that you decide to buy it. Speculation about cynical marketing ploys aside, ‘Gun Shy’ is a damn fine record.

The Screaming Blue Messiahs | Gun-Shy | (WEA)

Consisting of a quasi-neo-rockabilly power trio with admittedly limited timbrel resources, the Screaming Blue Messiahs squeeze a lot of great music out of guitar, bass, drums and vocals.

“Wild Blue Yonder” begins with a simple but catchy guitar riff, adding an incessant shaker, and plunging into a damn fine, funky, kickass rock song that’ll induce even nondancers to want to move their bodies. The lyrics seem nebulous and open to interpretation:

“Now that all that killing’s done
Dance to the good cash money, son
I don’t know, but I believe
Country air is the only air that’s fit to breathe.
And I can’t see that star
And I can’t hear the thunder
I wonder how long it’ll be
Out in the wild blue yonder.”

Mediocre philosophy? Gentle meta-physical musings? It doesn’t matter, as the popping drums and loping bass and guitar lines propel the listener on a non-linear groove into funky travel movements of rubber-band astral projection.

“Talking Doll” blasts off the start of the second side with a propulsive, aggressive energy that bites ya on the ass. Vocalist Bill Carter, the baldie, rails “Kill the lights, kill the lights” while an exciting thumping bass line bounds along in constant motion – and then it’s finished after two minutes and forty seconds. Damn! This would have made a great 20 minute jam, filling the grooves on side two with constant forward motion.

Although the lyric content leaves a lot to be desired, the music to “Talking Doll” is a frenetic musical speed trip that leaves the listener slobbering for more. Producer Howard Gray is to be highly recommended for this track.

The Screaming Blue Messiahs | Gun-Shy | (WEA)

Churning, chunky guitar vibrates, shakes, mixes, and thrusts “Twin Cadillac Valentine” into another drive/speed/movement/travel groove.

“Stoned love is what we got
When it’s hot – it’s hot”

Again, nothing earth shattering in the word department, but great echoing shards of guitar float in the interludes while Kenny Harris‘s drums bound and bounce like a stampede of PCP-crazed elephants. Somebody open the cage, ’cause the monkey’s bustin’ loose.

How to describe this music? Partly rockabilly, partly power trio, parts of the Stones and Hendrix – the best parts – thrown into a smoking stew of rock ‘n’ roll slingshot space trip. Constant speed, constant boogie, constant motion, constant obsessive movement. This record makes an excellent dance set – you could play this disc uninterruptedly all night at a dance club, keep folks throbbing away on the dance floor, and not get any complaints. A dance record even for those who can’t dance. Bite my ass again, ’cause the monkey’s bustin’ loose. (Spin, October 1986)

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cost of record: £4
from: British Heart Foundation