Published on Oct 16, 1997
Welcome to the true birthplace of grunge. Originally released in
1969, “this album of songs is a microcosm of the times that spawned
it,” according to singer Rob Tyner. Recorded live on Halloween
night at Detroit’s Grande Ballroom, the album boasts an incredible,
manic energy, and my respect for this grizzled crew has grown
exponentially with repeated listens.
Kick Out The Jams is a true rock original, an impressive but
dated document. Listening to “Religious Leader And Spiritual
Advisor,” Brother J.C. Crawford’s fiery introduction (with his “I
wanna hear some revolution out there, brothers” and “are you ready
to testify?” propaganda) is mildly amusing, and his fever pitched
incantations are continued by lunatic frontman Tyner, most notably
during his infamous “kick out the jams, motherfuckers” introduction
to the explosive title track. This controversial line got the album
banned from Detroit’s largest music distributor, Hudson’s. When the
band took it upon themselves to take out a local ad saying “Fuck
Hudson’s,” their record label, Elektra was none too pleased,
instantly dropping the band.
The band kicks, with a violently loud psychedelic assault that
is primal metal thunder with a dash of avant-jazz, highlighted by
the distorted dual guitar madness of Wayne Kramer and Fred “Sonic”
Smith. Some of these songs are concise statements of garageland
fury, such as “Ramblin’ Rose” and “Borderland.” Other tracks such
as “Rocket Reducer No. 62” and “I Want You Right Now” are more
indulgent, with the band reveling in their fuzzed out sonic attack.
The MC5 also demonstrate an impressive versatility, effectively
doing a straight up blues on “Motor City Is Burning,” and tackling
Sun Ra’s “Starship.” Unfortunately, on this attempt the band
falters, as their avant-garde experimentation overreaches with
sometimes embarrassing results.
Kick Out The Jams is an important historical document, since
the MC5 were also alleged inspirations for many punk combos. It
contains quite a few moments of greatness, transporting the
listener to a far away time as true rebels from another era
emphatically state their essence. It sounds like it would’ve been
awe-inspiring had I been there and embraced their “dope, guns, and
fucking in the streets” credo, and hell, they still sound unlike
anybody else. If the MC5’s music didn’t always hold up as well as
the revolutionary “punk” ideals that spawned it, this album proves
that on a good night these motherfuckers could indeed kick out the
jams with the best of them.