Folk Punk MusicPunk Folk Music
Folk-Punk Reverendo Lys
California, 1980: A seven inch loan for a new volume in Los Angeles officially marks the birth of the new garage of the 80s. The record that tracked the coordinates of attitude, appearance and sound for everything that followed was this 7" release by Dave Gibson for his Moxie Records, the label founded in honor of his dog, and the dark beat/punk bands of the sixties of which Dave is an avid collector.
One of them is Shelley Ganz, who doesn't live too far from Carondelet Street, Dave's headquarters, and thought of getting her hands dirty with this music by forming a group dedicated to the Music Machine, Electric Prunes, Chocolate Watch Volume, Syndicate of Sound and Count Five.
Unclaimed, like a dark Californian group fifteen years ago, they drive through town with a beautiful selection of covers and garages that many people begin to envy. Shelley Ganz, Sid Griffin, Barry Shank, Thom Hand and Matt Roberts ci sanno. Unclaimed's E.P. with the same name was released in 1980 when there was nothing or a little more.
Four songs that mark the zero point of the fever in the garages that will soon spread not only in California, but on two whole continents: played and sung with a rapprochement, but also with an elegance that makes them fragile and fascinating and yet necessary to shape something that has been brooding among American teenagers since the release of the Nuggets, that had been suffocated by punk and that now reappeared with the "Nuggets" released by AIP Records.
And Ganz looked at that moment like King Midas with raven hairs and a pair of beats on his feet to turn every sound that came out of those grooves into gold. But the image of the black, unclaimed crows remains above all fluttering, warning and perennial. The Sheldon " Shelley " Ganz is the theorist of the neogarage scene of the early 80s.
A Buddhist monk who locks himself up at home to watch old movies, listen to music machine records, put back his collection of old vox amplifiers and write letters from 1966. No gamer from the 1960s at all. Whole is a man who lives in a time machine that soon becomes his cage.
He has no reason to believe in a return from garages and beats, because he never stuck his nose out of the Standells or Count Five records. There'?s no other music for him. The Unclaimed, the only concession made when it comes out of the cell set up like the Cavern, have no easy life.
Strange story about Unclaimed, always in the right place, but at the wrong time. When their first mini-album came out, they had already split up and reformed with a whole new line-up, except for Shelley and drummer Matthew Roberts, who will follow him for a while. And then the unclaimed will no longer be the unclaimed, but Attila and the Huns.
And if you want to be picky when Under the Bodhi Tree comes out, they've been loose for five years. Of course Shelley Ganz is Attila. But despite everything Unclaimed represents the embodiment of an ethics, a philosophy, a musical concept. The six tracks of Primordial OOZE Flavored are sweets soaked in sugar of the Nuggets era, proud to give in to the flattery of our palate between a black truffle music machine and a strawberry delight of Standellen, small beehives in which the bees go on a terrible beats lost in the sixties and drain their honey after having sucked nectar from the flowers of the Sunset Strip and the Silver Strand of San Diego.
Six songs from the dementia of the monks, the Gothic people of Sean Bonniwell and the clumsy songs from films of the sixties (in this case the baby Elephant Walk was plundered by Mancini for Hatari!). In 1987, in the midst of a European touring that would allow fans to touch the myth of Unclaimed, Shelley Ganz turned to Los Angeles to leave Lee Joseph the burden of justifying the cause to the organizers of half of Europe and, where the dates were confirmed despite the heavy overflow, continuing the band's show.
In order to save at least the first ones, he released a live recording on his label the following year, which documents briefly what is supposed to become a historical concert anyway, the last of Unclaimed, that orphans of Ganz (who improvised at the end, together with many veterans who are now almost out of order, Paisley, at the court of Pharaoh Sky Saxon, NdLYS) pull the death bell.
Along with Unclaimed, this trip features the Fourgiven, with whom Shelley Ganz will return to battle when, almost thirty years later, he decides to revive the abbreviation Unclaimed to "see how it works". Maybe not much more, for the taste of missed opportunities that come with it, and not to let us smell anything of what the non-claimed have in the pipeline, to fish the game vigorously in the big top hat with blankets that the bands keep in the basement instead.
But just here, in this October 1987, when Unclaimed die, while outside bands like Chesterfield King, Miracle Workers, Fuzztones, Morlocks, Creeps, Sick Rose change the skin, the new garage of the 80s brings the death on the walls. After more than four years from this sad epilogue, the release of Unclaimed's coveted second full-length release is announced, which is presented to the public and press with false documents.
A record that, before being put on the plate, arouses little skepticism from supporters, which Ganz himself has educated to the strictest purism. The first thing that smelled rotten was that they had changed their name: the unauthorized became the Huns and Attila their tyrant.
After all, nothing is inevitable about Unclaimed, so it's a double blemish. But how, dear Shelley (Ganz, Kidd or whatever you want to be called), do you live in your golden cage by renewing the eternal cult of the sixties, detesting technology and deciding to de-legitimize vinyl? When Under the Bodhi Tree comes out, the Huns, like their ancestors on the Nedao River more than a century and a half ago, are already pulverized after five long years of waiting.
Captain Shelley and his deputy Joseph will return to the stage twenty years later under the old flag, along with the new engagements of Dave Drewry and Dave Provost (the legendary and unknown Droogs), who were temporarily stolen from the group by Russ Tolman. Therefore, this record is a testimony to the most enigmatic underground group of the 80s, able to put together a circus in which a psychotic beast such as Hardt to Find manages to live side by side with the dreamy arabesques of Well It's Truest,
A record completely wrapped in the jerseys of the sixties (the darkfolk of the Music Machine, the instrumental and cinematic music, the raw energy of Count Five, the rebellious sound of Standells, the yangle beats of Syndicate of Sound, the psychedelic punk of Chocolate Watch Band), but capable of releasing its very own flavor, the flavor of the most stylish underground car park roving.