We're Late For Class: #24 Limited Edition Release

#24 Limited Edition Release

Some accountant guys at school are offering their services to us just to get some real world experience. And, the first thing they advised us to do is get in on the special, limited edition release scam. "A sure money maker," they're telling us, especially when you sit on all the existing copies for backdoor sales at auction sites (just like big record companies do). So, this is Limited Edition Release, our promo single - featuring two self-explanatory, so-called rockers, "Transmission From Jimmy Miller's Car Phone" (not to be confused with #15's "Jimmy Miller's Knob Is Missing, Too") and "The Lumbering Rex" - with riffs we hammered repeatedly for an hour just to get 5 consistent minutes. This take was about a half hour in. As you can see... this hard copy promo's spine is stuffed with an atmospheric enhancement stick. By merely igniting it, critics might like what they hear. Of course, if these were actually sent out to media, there'd be trouble. "Free publicity," seems to be the accountants' mantra on the subject of our arrest and prosecution. We're not sure how long it takes for this collectible crap to get valuable, so... until then, you can listen to the contents of Limited Edition Release below and download the digital version for free. Then... watch for the rare, original, collectible discs popping up on Ebay, with a secret code on back to deter rampant counterfeiting. Accountants think of everything (great). Recorded live.

Listen

Transmission From Jimmy Miller's Car Phone (6:46)
The Lumbering Rex (4:26)

Free 320
LOSSLESS

11 comments:

Anonymous9:19 AM
Sounds Great!Thanks
the Capt.
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Anonymous9:26 AM
PS what's that instrument at the begining of sunshine girl...I think I remember that sound from 20years ago in a dorm room.
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We're Late For Class10:07 AM
Hi Capt.,
Thanks for the praise. The beginning of It's A Rainy Day, Sunshine Girl (besides the beat) is primarily a MIDI synth and a couple of guitars. We think. Obviously, dorm rooms haven't changed much in 20 years.
WLFC
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Anonymous1:30 PM
To enhance collectibility we need to stress that these jams are made up on the spot, only played once and never, ever heard or attempted again. (Like 95% of what we do.) That would enhance its "uniqueness," right? Make it seem more special and valuable and collectible? Can you tell I was drinking with the accountants last night?
Lonnie
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Anonymous6:08 AM
Maybe you should explain that thing you call a "MIDI synth." It's more like a shortwave set.
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Anonymous12:27 PM
In reality, it's a Korg Poly-800 running through a CBX-T3 sound generator, jammed through an ancient Apple Performa 636CD. I can't remember for sure, but for "Rainy Day" the setting might have been on "20 Year Old Dorm Room." Now you know why I just call it a MIDI synth.
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Anonymous12:01 PM
coloured vinyl,test pressing,silver lettering to label,some with hand drawn insert,orig. WLFC private pressing,only known pressing rare as hen's teeth or rocking horse shit.Stunning example of a future monster collectable. I'll take a dozen.American express?
There are rumours that the legendary 08.14.06 actually exists in the private collection of a japanese businessman in kyoto
Kyoto? - never heard of it.
yours scav
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We're Late For Class7:43 PM
Scav's got the idea.
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John Mendoza Moore2:34 PM
you guys are hyper-productive! i wish i could get an outfit like you guys together and play and record and play and record etc etc... nice work, as always. i'm never going to catch up!
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John Mendoza Moore6:41 PM
wow! a Kurt Winter reference (and matching sounds!)!! Very nice!
i've been listening to some of your stuff. you guys are crazy. i want to jam with you sometime! where in the world are you, anyway?
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We're Late For Class11:47 AM
Hey John,

Thanks for spending some time over here and saying nice stuff. We appreciate it when folks take the time to listen.

We're sitting on plenty more material (of questionable quality - just like the stuff we issue) but we just can't find enough time to do everything we want. Recording is the easiest part (when we're organized), since we just make it all up. But we decided that - since our stuff will never EVER be heard again - we should document everything we played. There's the rub. Mixing, storing, deciding, democracy, etc, etc. It all takes away from recording new crap. That's why we have to split up our duties to get anything done (this one is mine). It's the only way anything gets done.

The worst part is not having enough time for OTHERS. We love bands and creative types (like yourself) but there's SO much on the web. We WANT to delve into more and keep up with our new pals, but there's never enough time. Which is why we appreciate it when others take the time to listen to US! We understand they could be just as easily dancing to the new Miley Cyrus prefabrication. You ARE into Miley, right?

As for our whereabouts... unknown. Wiser heads have decided that since we "indulge" and promote it and talk about it WAY too much, it might be a good idea that we don't attract too much attention (and trespassers). Things could get weird and we could get jail time. We ARE in the USA, but until next election we're still in a police state. So... we're keeping a lid on our physicality for the time being (we even took a few identifiers out of our comments because of local feedback). But... we'd still like to jam.

We did some tape exchanges & overdubs with our new pals Stolle & Member. And our pals Catasto Elettrico have been promising us tapes to overdub for 6 months, but THEY don't have enough time either, so they keep apologizing and we keep saying "we understand TOTALLY." Seems we're all in the same boat with you. Too many ideas, too much music and not enough time.

Whattayagonnado?

Thanks JM. We need to hang some more over at your place and check out more of your MySpace concoctions and Nomeus tracks (http://nomeusisimmune.blogspot.com/). We've liked what we've heard so far, but... (repeat all the above). Only problems right now is... we're late for class.

It all makes sense now, doesn't it?

Thanks for listening,
WLFC
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PRESS THANKS...

Thanks to the late, great Fred Dellar at MOJO Magazine for mentioning Art Jackson's Atrocity AND We're Late For Class in two separate "Ask Fred" columns, where he called the Atrocity's Gout a "fine, percussion-fuelled, invigorating free-for-all," and also saying, "we at Ask Fred are glad WLFC exist." Thanks Fred!

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Many thanks to Jeff Fitzgerald over at Psychedelic Waves for including Art Jackson's Atrocity in his list of Top 30 Albums of 2019, calling Tribute To Sun Ra... "Some great, exploratory, tripped out Sun Ra inspired free jazz," and "a terrific album." Needless to say, we're shocked. Since we never sent the guy a dime. Thanks Jeff.

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Thanks to Roz Milner for the two interview/articles posted at Bearded Gentlemen Music, "Solving the Mystery of Art Jackson Atrocity’s Gout," and the most recent, "With His Back To The Crowd: Art Jackson’s Atrocity’s Live In Europe - Lost Live Jazz Recording."

We collectively appreciate the creative interest and the well-groomed ink.

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Thanks to It's Psychedelic Baby Magazine for the article, "Maybe It’s Time To Take Art Jackson’s Atrocity Seriously." Maybe.

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AN ACTUAL RECORD REVIEW...

ART JACKSON'S ATROCITY

Gout

(Unreleased 1974 Promo On Columbia Records)

Reviewed by Joe Kenney @

Julian Cope Presents Head Heritage

If, like me, your favorite era of Miles Davis is his electric era, specifically the 1973-1975 years in which Pete Cosey was his guitarist, then you’ve probably wondered why that super-fantastic lineup of his never cut an album together, after Miles decided to retire in late 1975. I mean, they were the greatest group in history, with Pete Cosey’s phenomenal, psychedelic guitar (the man was beyond Hendrix, that’s all there is to it), Reggie Lucas’ wah-wah’d grounding rhythm guitar, Michael Henderson’s dub-like basslines…hell, I can’t go through all of them, but if you know them, you love them. But if you’ve ever wondered what an album by this super group sans Miles would sound like, well my friends, I give you Gout, by Art Jackson’s Atrocity.

Only thing is, you’ll have to hunt the blogs for it. Recorded in 1974, the album was cut as a promo by Columbia, who then went on to drop both the group and the album, which is unreleased to this day. “The horror…the horror…” No one’s sure why (info is slim to none on this group and album), but most rumors have to do with Art Jackson’s drug abuse. In any case, the album has perfect sound quality – the only source is the promo LP, of course, and it sounds phenomenal.

The Miles connection surfaces again: Art Jackson was a twenty year-old guitarist whom Miles Davis himself recommended to Columbia records. Apparently Davis even funded the recording of the album. The Atrocity was put together around Jackson, an 11-member collective of hard-rockin’, psychedelia-lovin’, jazz-playin’ motherfuckers (two saxophonists, four drummers, two keyboardists, a guy on reeds, a guy on bass, a guy on “effects”), none of whom I’ve ever heard of (much like Art Jackson himself).

The five long tracks on Gout center around Jackson’s guitar, and the kid is Pete Cosey reborn; the stuff on here sounds almost identical to what Cosey was performing on the Agharta and Pangaea albums. That same sort of fucked-up, psychedelic distortion which goes from raging and chaotic one moment to spaced-out drones the next, the strange tunings, the works. Only thing is, unlike Cosey, Jackson’s not above playing a power chord or three, so the album packs a definite metal-rock punch. I mean, it’s fantastic, the whole thing.

The superbly-named “Shaft In Afghanistan” opens the album. Jackson’s guitar is on super-fucked mode, sounding like a cyclic tone. The rhythm section lays down a menacing, throbbing track, which Jackson and the sax & reeds proceed to riff over. Jackson soon leaves the actual “song” to the others, instead riffing and roaring with all manner of guitar sounds across the track. He’s everywhere, from wah-wah to thick distortion to cosmic fuzz. Things cool down three minutes in, but it’s only a fake-out; the track comes right back in. Jackson funks it up on wah-wah, with studio-tricked handclaps providing additional percussion. There's all sorts of electronic gimmickry on the album; this isn’t just some quickly recorded demo. This eventually calms down again into a sort of funky ambience – but it’s just another fake-out! The track rips right back up, the drums so superbly recorded (and no doubt closely-miked) that they seem to pound within the caverns of your skull.

“Arabian Fabian” (another great title!) comes in with total menace, until a faux-lite jazz tune pops up. Funky, proto-drum’n’bass drum kit and sax. But this soon becomes something altogether un-lite. Echoed murk creeps across the track, eerie wails, treated reeds, and dubbed-out sax bleats. Those close-up drums kick in and we’re in an altogether heavier, funkier groove. The first half of the track belongs to the Atrocity, with Jackson throwing in brief fills and licks on his mutated guitar. Things collapse into psychedelic ambience at the five-minute mark; free jazz with plinking guitar and tapped cymbal. But ominous guitar fuzz hovers in the distance, a starving wolf preparing to attack. John Carpenter keyboards arise and give the track even more of a horror-movie feel. But it’s a ruse; the piano takes over, playing a melancholy melody as the other instruments recede into the murk. This doesn’t last. Those ultra-loud drums kick the shit out of you again, jumping out of nowhere, and suddenly we’re into the strangest of strange: ambient free jazz with heavy metal drums. The track eventually wears itself out, descending back into the murk from whence it came.

“Available Bush” sounds like some early ‘90s industrial mash, with in-your-face drums and ripping and roaring Ministry-esque guitar. The track throbs on an off-kilter funk grove, Jackson heading the proceedings with the twists and turns of his guitar. The sax plays a faux-Middle Eastern counter-melody to his blasts and blares. The bassist throws in a few snake-like fills of his own, but his instrument sounds anemic compared to Jackson’s acidic distortion. This one humps along for seven minutes which quickly pass by, never establishing anything beyond that off-kilter groove, but never suffering for it.

“Tomato Reign” is the epic of the album, 16+ minutes of cosmic echo and free jazz. It crawls out of the murk in the opening moments, ethereal and disjointed fills from the assembled players. Things continue in this dubbed-out vein for a few minutes; nothing on the level of the Taj Mahal Travelers, but close…along the lines of the last half of Miles’ 1975 shows, when Cosey et al would let it all hang out in improvisatory bouts of experimental noise and abstraction. Pounding, tribal drums which pop out and then disappear. Bleated sax fills which float across the sound spectrum. Even animalistic grunts, growls, and screams from the group. This culminates in ultra-fucked guitar from Jackson, sounding again like some cyclic tone from hell, and then someone (a group member? a sample from some obscure film?) states in the calmest tones, “Fuck her. Let her rot.” A few more minutes of banging, echoed drums and bleating, mournful fills from the sax, and that’s it: the freest noise-skronk ever comes to a close.

“Let’s go!,” someone yells, and we’re straight into the pounding, pissed-off proto-metal of the title track, “Gout.” This is the rock version of the preceding track, another rhythmless excursion into all things free, only packing a wallop in the guitar distortion and overall menace. It pounds and snarls for six minutes, never finding a groove, preferring to live in its own sonic hellhole of chaotic din. Finally it builds to a climax of sorts, with a few final bashes on the drum kit, and the record’s over.

To be fair, you can see why Columbia refused to release this. Gout is the type of album you’d only find on some free jazz label or, if it was recorded today, some ultra-hip indie label. But Columbia in the mid-1970s? Releasing this groundless swell of jazz-metal ambience? Hard to believe. But those master tapes are out there, somewhere, as is the full story of what exactly happened to Art Jackson and his Atrocity. In the meantime, we can only listen to their one recorded album, and wonder.