Crippled
Pilgrims - Down Here: Collected Recordings (1983-1985)
Artist: Crippled
Pilgrims
Title: Down Here:
Collected
Recordings
(1983-1985)
Catalog#: REACT-CD-004
Price: $10.00 
|
Tracks
on this CD: |
| 1.
Black and White |
|
10.
Sad but True |
| 2.
Under The Ladder |
|
11.
Calculating |
| 3.
People Going Nowhere |
|
12.
Undone |
| 4.
Out Of Hand |
|
13.
What You Lost |
| 5.
Dissolving |
|
14.
Pretend Not To Care |
| 6.
A Side He'll Never Show |
|
15.
The Sense |
| 7.
Down Here |
|
16.
Not Good |
| 8.
So Clean |
|
17.
People Going Nowhere (alternate version) |
| 9.
Oblivious and Numb |
|
18.
Black and White (alternate version) |
|
When
we started Reaction Recordings we wanted to release music
we loved but thought
had passed by too many people unnoticed. The first Reaction
release was an album entitled Rolled Gold by the amazing
sixties English pop group, The Action. We followed that
with a re-release of the 1956 recording, Songs of
the Pogo, by Walt Kelly and Norman Monath. Next up came A
Thousand Day Dream by Urbana-Champaign's favorite garage-pop
band, The Vertebrats. Now, Reaction Recordings is proud
to present the complete vinyl output of Crippled Pilgrims.
Crippled Pilgrims is the perfect example of a band who
seemingly went unnoticed during their lifespan, but now
sound as contemporary as anything being released today.
How and why a band this good somehow managed to sneak
under the critical and popular radar during their heyday
is difficult to understand. We're not sure it makes any
difference, as long the magic they committed to tape
is finally available again for music lovers to enjoy
now and for years to come.
Although the original master
tapes have been lost, we've managed to track down virgin
vinyl copies of both their EP and album, and each has
been meticulously re-mastered and presented here along
with two rare bonus tracks.
If, like us, you love this
music as much as anything you've ever heard, please help
spread the word. We believe Crippled Pilgrims have gone
missing long enough!
Peace and love,
Geoff & Ric
Reaction Recordings
This is
the sort of album that you listen
to a few times without really
noticing what's going on. Then,
without warning, things start
to happen: you hum along unconsciously,
you add your own mental notes
when a particularly classic chord
progression comes along, you
recall certain lyrics later in
the day... last year's 6-song
mini-album, "Head Down-Hand Out",
got the kind of critical raves
that are generally reserved for
veterans of the music biz, and
the new release is certain to
follow in it's predecessor's
footsteps. Imagine some sort
of psychedelic garage combo playing
jazz on the side for extra bucks;
picture a surreal blending of
Televison, Grateful Dead, space
cowboy Byrds and Meat Puppets.
C.P. are from D.C. and are led
by singer/songwriter/cover artist
Jay Moglia; Mitch Parker plays
bass, Dan Joseph contributes
drums and some great piano playing
as well, and Scott Wingo handles
lead guitar. Of the latter I
cannot begin to curb my praise,
for the astonishing clarity with
which Wingo unleashes his notes
is chilling at times, so fluid
and on-the-mark are his offerings.
While Moglia’s vocals are
never "pretty" or even completely
in tune, they seem perfectly
suited for his hazy, ambiguous
lyrics, recalling at times Lou
Reed or perhaps a younger Robyn
Hitchcock.
Some of the tunes
will sink in before others thanks
to the insidious hooks, but I
should point out a few of my
faves: "Not Good", the heavy
rocker, guitar modalities reverberating
around a relentless beat; "Undone",
which starts off like a midtempo
Lou Reed street vignette then
romps off in a series of mini
rave-ups on guitar; "So Clean",
full of clever cops froma lot
of songs, riffs plundered with
wicked glee; "Oblivious And Numb",
a pretty ballad with not-so-pretty
lyrics and a healthy dose of
that fluid guitar I mentioned.
Eventually all of the tunes will
sink in - I think some will call
this album a "sleeper" - and
you WILL be hooked. A fine brilliant
album. Look for the bright green
cover and electric blue vinyl. -
Fred Mills, Bucketfull Of
Brains (1985)
 
The Crippled Pilgrims Story
After being kidnapped by the savage noise troubadours
Death Camp 2000 (featuring the rhythmic styling of Jay Spiegel a.k.a. the
Rummager and the not yet famous thrashings of sound impresario Don Fleming),
Jay Moglia's path shifted from its idyllic moorings onto an uncertain carousel
of melody and mayhem. The 21-year-old Moglia took a crash course in guitar
to color his vivid wordscapes and began looking for bandmates. Meanwhile,
Scott Wingo sat at home drinking and wallowing in self-pitying gloom. His
housemate Charles Steck had recently enlisted as bassist for Fleming's phenomenal
pop combo the Velvet Monkeys - a fact that made Wingo's inability to fulfill
his adolescent fantasies of rock stardom all the more agonizing.
As Moglia's embryonic attempts at song emerged, he was lucky to have the
Velvet Monkeys help in fleshing them out with background noise. He lived
in the room directly adjacent to the Monkeys' rehearsal space and spent many
days lurking in the corner hoping for an invitation to jam. In time, whether
for the good of rock or just to get him out of their ascending orbit, the
Monkeys suggested that Moglia get together with Wingo for a musical chemistry
check.
Scott arrived at Jay's house fully expecting to meet a circa 1982
standard-issue punk/alternative type but was instead greeted by a clean-cut
young man in a green golf sweater with a stutter on his tongue and a phantom
in his eye. This was Jay Moglia.
It wasn't long before the two started blending
ideas. Wingo had cut his teeth in the influential DC punk band Trenchmouth,
but his musical leanings were as much Beatles as Ramones, and Moglia's meandering
yet forceful compositions allowed plenty of space for the outcast guitarist
to sharpen his knives. Prominent among these knives was a recently acquired
affinity for modal psychedelic noodling. Despite a valiant Punk/British Invasion-hardened
resistance to all things Dead, a recent chance encounter with a particular
ergot-derived substance combined with a well-timed Aoxomoxoa turntable spin
had opened Wingo's ears and fingers to a whole new palette of six-string
possibilities. The wide-open nature of Jay's pieces seemed to provide an
apt canvas for somehow combining the alcoholic glee of pure hard rock with
the lysergically-damaged wanderings of the not-so-distant past. (Whether
this was actually achieved is an entirely separate question.)
The duo's joy
in their well-meshed "sound" overshadowed more earthly concerns
like song structure and length. An early Pilgrims show could easily last
an hour as they whipped through their six-song set. It took bassist Mitch
Parker, previously with the legendary DC punk outfit Government Issue, to
bring some focus and direction to the raw strands of tune. Parker's ability
to slice through musical excess coupled with his local scenester par excellence
credentials quickly landed the group a slot on Fountain of Youth's compilation
LP Bouncing Babies, immediately leading to the recording of their EP Head
Down Hand Out (also on Fountain of Youth).
Through all of this, one central
question remained unanswered: Who was the Crippled Pilgrims' drummer? The
Velvet Monkey's Rummager (who shortly afterward reached heartthrob status
as drummer for DC boy band HE) handled some of the crucial early gigs and
sessions (including the first Inner Ear demo which yielded the Bouncing
Babies track). At other times it was hard-hitting Tommy Carr of the
powerful quartet Black Market Baby stepping in at the last minute to rescue
the Pilgrims on
show night. Ultimately, Dan Joseph, who had been with the group only two
weeks before recording Head Down Hand Out, would become the drummer of record.
Joseph never became an "official" member of the band due to his
commitment with the progressive horror rock ensemble 9353. Though generous
with his time, Joseph was reluctant to be affiliated with the Pilgrims. Jay,
Scott, and Mitch's "regular guy" personas were no match for the
preening charisma 9353 brought to the stage. Plus, Crippled Pilgrims' reputation
for flowing melody and the occasional extended guitar solo had burdened them
with a comparatively uncool reputation amid the rigid conformity of the then
thriving harDCore scene. At 17 years old, Dan Joseph could certainly be excused
for downplaying such a potentially credibility-busting association.
The revolving-door drummer status meant gigs for the Pilgrims were infrequent.
Shortly after the release of Head Down Hand Out, Moglia, stifled
by inactivity and bolstered by the EP's positive reviews and healthy college
chart rankings,
set out for NYC hoping to expand the group's profile and ultimately relocate
the band. Unfortunately, he neglected to tell Wingo and Parker about his
ambitious plans and was surprised when they didn't join him in Manhattan.
Instead of extending the ranks of New York's rock elite, Jay found himself
dazedly wandering the city's avenues carrying a can of blue spray paint and
a cardboard "Crippled Pilgrims" stencil. Scott and Mitch were left
back in DC with the proverbial question marks hanging over their heads.
Moglia eventually recovered from his spray-painted daze and began laying
down tracks for an atmospheric collection of electronic folk songs under
the name Geezer Park. The music was actually pressed and was poised to become
the first release on Bar/None Records when Jay inexplicably pulled the plug
on the project. In the meantime, Head Down Hand Out gathered momentum, garnering
notable amounts of airplay in obscure and far-away markets. This came as
a surprise to the group as their local DC following was less than massive.
In mid-1984, with a fair number of Pilgrims' tunes never given a proper recording
and Fountain of Youth pressing for a follow-up to Head Down Hand Out, Jay,
Scott, and Mitch tentatively decided to revive the group.
With Jay commuting from NY to DC for gigs and recording sessions, Mitch and
Scott both unwilling to abandon their relatively comfortable DC existences,
and the continuing "who is our drummer" plague, the future did
not bode well for the band. However, the trio (along with the drummer of
the moment) managed to squeeze out a few more shows--the final being a pairing
with LA's Gun Club at DC's 9:30 Club on September 7, 1984.
Recording and mixing of tracks continued sporadically throughout the fall
of 1984. When Under Water was released the following spring, it was met with
strong reviews and college radio airplay, but Crippled Pilgrims as a performing
and recording unit were history.
In the ensuing years, Jay, Scott, and Mitch continued to make music together
in various combinations and permutations. Notable among these was the full-frontal,
testosterone-drenched stance of CPU (Crippled Pilgrims Unlimited), who, disappointingly,
never performed beyond a few private parties. More fortunate in outreach
was the crystalline rock perfection of Rambling Shadows whose initial mid-90's
stirrings saw Jay and Mitch mining the urban underbelly for inspirational
fuel. For reasons that remain murky, Mitch, in early 1996, abruptly quit
the project, never to be seen or heard from again. The aforementioned Charles
Steck (Velvet Monkeys, High-Back Chairs, Lida Husik) and Scott Wingo stepped
in to salvage and retool, adding their own unique marks to the sound. This
time around, the drummer was official - the multitalented Davis White (Foundation,
Lorelei, Alice Despard Group among many others). Though the quartet never
attained the popularity of Crippled Pilgrims, it gigged regularly in the
DC area and even managed to have a couple of tunes released on obscure compilation
CDs (Welcome to the Big Ring and Bumper to Bumper Hits, Vol.
2), with many
other excellent tracks still awaiting release. After a five year hiatus,
in early 2004, the Rambling Shadows re-emerged from the depths fully primed
for yet another round of amplified truth promulgation - walking hard and
thinking wrong.
The music encoded on this CD is the towering pinnacle of 1980's alt-rock.
That few realized it at the time of its original release matters not a whit.
What matters is that you now listen and know the glorious truths awaiting
within.
Clint Vista
Terrain Press
 
I was a dry sponge
Ever since
I was an eleven-year-old kid in Rockford, Illinois, riding my Schwinn Sting-Ray
to the local record store to buy my first album
(Cheap Trick's At Budokon), finding great music has always been about the
thrill of the hunt.
I thought I'd done a great job of schooling myself in the years that followed,
but as I descended upon Champaign-Urbana from suburban Chicago to attend
college in the mid-80s, my eyes were opened wide. I'd been under the incorrect
assumption that I was perched atop the cutting edge with my diet of MTV
and an extensive library of U2, Echo & The Bunnymen, The
Smiths, and
R.E.M. singles only to discover that I didn't even speak the language of
underground music.
I was a blank page, a dry sponge.
A girl without freckles is like
a night without stars and suddenly I'm there too. Alone. Left wondering
what my ears had been doing over the past 18 years.
With this humbling realization, I set out to learn all that I could about
the thriving underground rock landscape. I even stopped buying U2 records
(The Joshua Tree had just been released and the band didn't seem to need
my help anymore anyway) and stopped going to concerts that could accommodate
more than 200 fans, missing a great R.E.M. show on campus that year.
The number of new bands that I unearthed each week seemed endless. I developed
an addictive desire for finding out about bands like The
Replacements,
The
Flaming Lips, Squirrel
Bait, Dumptruck, Big
Black, Thin
White Rope,
The
Rain Parade, Cocteau
Twins, The
Gun Club, Green
On Red, Hüsker
Dü, Mission
Of Burma, Severed Heads, Sonic
Youth, Camper
Van Beethoven,
Savage
Republic, The
Dream Syndicate, Bauhaus, Minor
Threat, Minutemen,
Dinosaur Jr., Naked
Raygun, Hollowmen, Alice
Donut, Descendents, Skinny
Puppy, The Judy's, The
dB's, American
Music Club, Bad
Brains, The
Silos,
Spacemen
3, The Lemonheads, Flipper, and Meat
Puppets. Money my parents
had intended for an occasional meal outside of the dormitory cafeteria
was quickly converted into vinyl at the local record store, Record Swap,
along with a box of cassettes from Discount Den, and a visit to That's
Rentertainment, a shop that lended out a vast library of albums before
being threatened by the RIAA, then splintering into a video store and,
later, birthing Parasol Records.
The thing that continues to impress me most about the grassroots music
scene burgeoning in the US from the mid-to-late 80s is how varied the artists
in the scene were. Breaking Circus and The Crazy 8's, Let's
Active and
The
Butthole Surfers had little to do with each other from a stylistic
standpoint. It seems the sole factor unifying these bands was that the
originality of their material rose above that of the standard fare.
In these times the cream of each local scene seemed to rise to the top.
While many bands could throw together a local cassette tape to sell on
consignment at gigs and shops, it was only the very best bands that released
actual albums that made it to store shelves outside of their insular communities.
At this point in time, if a band released an album with national distribution
that a guy like me could find in a big city or college town, there was
almost a guarantee that the music contained in that sleeve was going to
be of high quality. Maybe not better than the last record that you'd purchased,
but better than the material by the other bands from that town and a worthwhile
document of that particular scene.
These were the days before manufacturing technology and the Sub Pop explosion
made it feasible and fashionable for any run-of-the-mill band to cut a
45, before the days of affordable home studio gear and CD-burners. The
mere existence of vinyl for a band at that time gave them credibility,
unlike the current glut of CDs on the market that make you work harder
to determine which artists are worthy of your attention.
Of all the exciting recordings from this time period, among my most beloved
are those released by Washington D.C.'s Crippled Pilgrims.
I first heard Under Water when a friend brought it back to our
dorm from Record Swap. He'd rolled the dice on this band based upon a comparison
toward Television and The
Velvet Underground, and, after all, six dollars
was a small risk to take on the promised greatness testified to by the
store's influential record buyer Charlie "The Quaker" Edwards.
Greeted by a tangle of guitars and an "in the room" immediacy
lent to the singer's cathartic vocals, we quickly knew that we'd both hit
paydirt with his purchase. I ran to my room to get a blank cassette, so
I could start taping the day's new treasure.
As time passed and there
were new bands to uncover, many records became yesterday's news, simple
stops along the journey, but month-in and month-out, I returned to the
comforts of my Crippled Pilgrims cassette. Over the years, I developed
an urgent need to own the actual, hard-to-find LP and scoured record bins
religiously whenever I was out of town. I made an outstanding offer to
my friend to buy his copy for $50, hoping that someday he'd be strapped
for cash and the band's clear-blue vinyl would soon find its way into my
collection. Alas, he's no dummy and has held onto the album to this day.
In
the late 90s, I finally found my copy in a used record bin in Chicago.
It may be the best $1.99 I've ever spent and the most satisfied sigh I've
ever exhaled.
In the mid-90s I started working for Parasol Records and invariably
brought the Crippled Pilgrims to listen to during the workday. I was pleasantly
surprised when owner, Geoff Merritt, chirped up one day, "You like
the Crippled Pilgrims?"
" I love them," I replied. " I
thought there were only two of us in the world who owned this record."
" Nope,
make that three. They were fantastic."
Either Geoff or I would show
up at work with a Crippled Pilgrims record every few months. With our grins
stretching from ear-to-ear, we would bob our heads around the office, acting
like the only people in the world who knew the answers to life's great
questions. When Geoff first bought a CD-burner, Crippled Pilgrims were
at the top of his burn pile.
Meanwhile, I'd search the World Wide Web every
few months, looking for information that I knew didn't exist about the
band I cherished… until the day I found a band listing and mp3s along
with an email address. I sent an email of encouragement and thanks for
the music, expecting no reply.
The next day, I heard from guitarist Scott Wingo thanking me and letting
me know that none of the Crippled Pilgrims material had ever made it to
CD, and if I had a CD-R copy might I forward one along to him. It didn't
take long before a plan for spreading the word about these spectacular
recordings through our home base at Parasol and our reissue label, Reaction
Recordings, took shape.
Crippled Pilgrims are a band whose influence should have been far reaching,
but who have (until now) gone largely unnoticed. To my ears, these songs
sound timeless. On one hand, they are a product of a bygone time and on
the other they are as current sounding as anything else from today's American
rock underground. The band is simply spellbinding, and while their brand
of neo-psychedelia conjures influences of the era (like Dumptruck, Television,
Meat Puppets, Wire, The Beatles, Ramones, Grateful Dead, The Rain Parade,
Green On Red, The Dream Syndicate, etc.), it also sounds very much like
music that could have been written and recorded yesterday. It's as current
sounding as it is an echo of the past and I think that's one of the band's
greatest strengths and one of the main reasons I've returned to them year
in and year out.
It's like playing a copy of Slint's Spiderland. Your jaw hits the floor
not because it sounds like a terrific record from 1991, but because it
sounds like a great record. Period.
I hope that you will enjoy these recordings half as much as I have - now
favorites of mine spanning the past 20 years - and, equally, I hope you
enjoyed whatever path you took to get here, be it crooked or straight.
As any record collector can attest, just when you think the journey is
over, something new pops up to take its place. Getting there is half the
fun.
Happy hunting,
Bill Johnson
Parasol
|
|
|
| |
| THIS
WEEK'S TOP TEN |
01 Bats, The -- The Guilty Office (ON SALE)(more)
02 Lonely Trailer -- S-T: The Best Of Lonely Trailer(more)
03 Kilgour, David & Sam Hunt -- Falling Debris [RESTOCKING](more)
04 Outnumbered -- Surveying The Damage: The Best Of The Outnumbered(more)
05 Clean, The -- Mashed [live album](more)
06 Wilco -- You Never Know b/w Unlikely Japan(more)
07 Dinosaur Jr. -- Farm: DELUXE(more)
08 Eels -- Hombre Lobo: 12 Songs Of Desire(more)
09 Lloyd, Richard -- The Jamie Neverts Story (PRE-ORDER: SALEABLE JULY 14TH)(more)
10 St. Christopher -- Lost at Sea: The Sarah Recordings(more)
|
|
|
