Published on Aug 17, 1998
I still remember being introduced to saxophonist John Zorn’s
combination freeform jazz/grindcore side project Naked City when I
was in college radio. The station’s music director, Anthony (whom
I’ve written about before on these pages) was in the studio doing
his show, and I happened to wander in to chat. Normally, our tastes
in music were as different as night and day; I often thought the
stuff he listened to was the musical equivalent of someone
masturbating with a chainsaw.
But he looked at me and said in a deadpan voice, “This is a song
called ‘Fuck The Facts’.” Eleven seconds later, the track was over,
and I stood there in dropped-jaw shock. I was hooked, no question
about it.
Zorn, an eclectic bird in his own right, put together this
combination of some of rock and jazz’s best (albeit little-known)
musicians and formed Naked City, a group that broke the mold and
rules when it came to all forms of music. Their self-titled debut
is the musical equivalent of a heart attack; you never really know
what’s lurking around the corner as the next track, even if you’ve
listened to the album 50 times. But if you’ve got the stomach for
truly different music, you will love this album.
With Zorn on alto sax, Bill Frisell on guitar, Wayne Horovitz on
keyboards, Fred Frith on bass, Joey Baron on drums, and the
charming Yamatsuka Eye on vocals (or at least what Zorn calls
vocals; others might disagree), Naked City merges the worlds of
jazz, rock, country, and a then-little-known form of music in
America called grindcore. In England, bands like Napalm Death (whom
I got hooked on at the same time) were spewing forth an average of
three songs in one minute, with rhythms that sounded like a
hummingbird’s heart hopped up with methamphetamines. To Zorn, this
was just another new musical path to forge.
The band does treat some forms of music with respect, such as
Ennio Morricone’s “The Sicilian Clan,” John Barry’s “James Bond
Theme,” Henry Mancini’s “A Shot In The Dark” and the original
“Saigon Pickup”. These moments of musical reverence provide not
only surprise (they usually follow a more intense number), but also
a respite from the madness that makes up
Naked City.
Oh, but what a wonderful madness it is. The first side of the
tape features 17 songs, a few of which clock in at under 30
seconds. If Eye is actually saying anything, I can’t tell; his
vocals, wonderful to my ears as they are, sound like he dropped the
radio in the bathtub and is being electrocuted. (This, I think, is
the desired effect for Naked City.) Baron flails on his drums as if
he’s having a seizure, while Zorn empties his lungs into his
saxophone.
Thinking about it, words really don’t describe Naked City’s
sound. I mean, how do you adequately describe a number that goes
from the thrash-attack of grindcore to a Latin rumba to a jazzy
beat? It’s kind of like describing what having an asthma attack is
like to someone who doesn’t have asthma. (Being a bronchial
asthmatic, I speak from experience.) You have to experience
Naked City to really understand what they’re all about.
And what they are about, in retrospect, is about re-inventing
free-form, jazz and otherwise. Combining such elements into songs
like “You Will Be Shot,” “Batman” (which was re-named “Gotham” on
later pressings), “Punk China Doll” and “Speedball” doesn’t seem to
make sense until you hear it for yourself. (Kind of like how I
don’t understand how some people can put pineapple on pizza.)
While
Naked City is certainly groundbreaking, it hardly is for
everybody. The faint-hearted will be running for the exits before
Zorn and crew can really get warmed up; purists of jazz, rock, and
possibly even grindcore might consider the marriage of several
styles of music sacreligious. Possibly. But for the rest of us,
Naked City represents unbridled energy, passion and possibly
even anger channeled into music. The resulting noise is sheer joy
to those who get it, and sheer madness to those who don’t.
Naked City recorded one more album (not on Nonesuch/Elektra)
before apparently throwing in the towel. Too bad, but not
surprising. Seeing that this music could be considered the
nitroglycerine of jazz, it was only a matter of time before it went
ker-plooie. Thank God we have
Naked City to remind us what these forefathers created for
musicians yet to come.