The Bevis Frond emerged fully-formed from the skull of British rock. A cult favorite ever since Nick Saloman created the band in the 80s, it has stayed with a heavy 60s-style psychedelic sound, resisting all Brit-pop fashion and trends. Over the years, the Frond has grown from a one-man band recording in a bedroom to a trio that works in an actual studio; but listening to the first few records-- now back in print thanks to Rubric Records-- it's surprising to hear how little the man has changed.
As shown on the Frond's third album, Triptych, Saloman has always had a mature, unpretentious, and frankly, drug-free sensibility. Under all the exotica and period sounds, he makes what is, at its core, meat-and-potatoes rock. Modern audiences can dig the quirks and humor without hearing addled lyrics about how far away the singer's hand looks at the end of his arm. Saloman employs eloquent, left-field imagery to address concrete, sometimes mundane subjects-- getting old, going to court, dealing with the old man who owns the guitar shop-- and his swagger-free voice and genuine English accent lend the wordplay conviction.
Every song has a great hook or riff, and Saloman's guitar sears across these lo-fi recordings. The solos jam icicles in your eyeballs. The riffs slam your solar plexus. The few long jams stick to fundamentals and eschew free-form noodling. He sounds like he could go on forever, yet he manages to stop before you feel like checking your watch.
Triptych was originally self-released by Saloman in 1988, and he took a few liberties with the recording. He gave his four-year-old daughter a percussion feature; she's okay. He invited his mum to sing on his cover of "Hey Joe"; she's brilliant. (Only David Letterman has put a mother to better use in the service of art.) On the other hand, the two instrumentals just fill space-- album opener "Into the Cryptic Myst," a bland relic that does nothing but set the mood, and "Phil Exorcises the Daemons," a short piece with drummer Phil Collyer that never takes off.
Around those tangents sit some of the Frond's best pop songs. "Lights Are Changing" rides on a Byrds-like riff and a catchy chorus. Mary Lou Lord almost had a hit with her cover of this song, but her glossy, nice-girl spin on the tune can't compare to this raw original, where Saloman pushes his vocals higher than they can comfortably go. It's followed by more fine retro-pop: Saloman splays killer riffs and a two-guitar attack across "Gemini Machine" and "Nowhere Fast," while the ballads "Old Man Blank" and "Corinthian" have gentle vocals and classic flower power organ lines.
The album closes with "Hey Joe" and six catchy but inessential bonus tracks. They're a breath of cool air after the centerpiece of the album: "Tangerine Infringement Beak," a twenty-minute one-man jam session that Saloman plays like the Four Horsemen of Garage Rock. Sprawling and unruly, it treads perilously near total indulgence-- but closer inspection reveals that the song is neatly organized into sections and paced for maximum effect. And when Saloman runs out of lyrics, he admits it and segues to the three-minute organ/noise coda. Very sensible.
