THE PLASTIC PEOPLE OF THE UNIVERSE

Strangest than their usual work. It's esoteric sounding rock take on biblical themes (Easters). In fact, translation is bad. It should be The Passion Play, because it means this Christian thing, not more often used adjective (do something with passion).

Lyrics are mostly biblical (Old Testament I suppose, but that is hard for my, I'm strongly persuaded atheist and these words means nothing to me). But one have to understand the situation. Faith in god back in 70s was oppressed. Not banned, you also wasn't killed for wearing denim clothes, but people were persecuted to some extent. So Plastics took this as an rebellion thing. It's much different from for example Neal Morse's work (made in relatively free society and country, where you don't expect to have your career and a lot of things in life over just for your belief), it's more dark, but not offensive. It reminds me Pink Floyd tracks such as "Carefully With That Axe, Eugene" and "Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun" ("Kazani na hore"), or hypnotic saxophone in next track.

If this is example of RIO (here it's in opposition to comm regime), then I like it. Just how many beatings, house raids, prison stays they had to survive and still had the energy to create such ANTI effort. 4(+)stars, because I feel that I can't understand it as much as believer can. But I do believe, in love and freedom. My own way.

EDIT: After hearing this in radio version with commentary from band (in studio, talking with moderators) in between the songs, I'll decided to give 5(-)

— First review of this album —

Don't be confused by Mejla Hlavsa in musicians list, this is In Memorian Concert, his. As I don't know their work so well, I can tell just if it's good or bad, what is good about it, but can't compare. Because of this message that this album brings, these stories are actually stories. Rough, wild, depressive, as also music is. But also full of life, enjoying it to the maximum, celebration of great musician. (Bylo to nedávno - "It Wasn't So Long Ago" is about guy who raped girl in a bar, he's satisfied, she's not, she's maybe even not real, as it looks like in the end). Oh, these songs are so lyrically interesting, while musically they maintaing TPPotU quality, weird atmosphere, not good, not bad, like noir films, same thing. Simply weird, uncertain. And it's good, as it is something that you don't encounter often in music. Ach líně, líně is about sleeping in bed with his love (ending with funny line "Oh ma lasko barokni, z postele me vykopni", having beautiful rhyme, while meaning "oh my baroque love, from bed kick me now"). Lyrics are often obscene, not afraid to use profanity and dirty words. I like it too, also something unusual in music.

5(+) of course that this rating, are you expecting something else, when these musicians made their best to honor legacy of their life-long friend ?

— First review of this album —

‘Ach to státu Hanobení’ (Oh, Dishonor to the State) is a collection of live recordings of the band from the 1976-1977 period where they were pretty fractured most of the time thanks to being arrested for disturbance of the peace by the Communist government and serving out various prison terms. The band’s concerts were nearly all clandestine, performed at secret ‘festivals’ out of town, or under the pretext of a wedding or family celebration. I would imagine the crowds were mostly small.

Canadian Paul Wilson, who had been a member of the band in earlier days and had married a Czech national, was deported during this period and returned to Canada where he arranged to have some of the band’s material released.

The music here is mostly primitive, as was a lot of the Plastic’s material until their later years. I don’t know what most of the lyrics are about, but given the album’s title and some track names like “Phallus Impudicus” and “Apokalyptickej Ptak” I can pretty much guess as to some of the themes.

A couple of the band’s more well-known songs appear here in early form, most notably the power chord-laden “Prší, prší” and the (not surprisingly) bluesy “Spofa Blues”. Elsewhere the cacophonic “Eliasuv ohen” and dirge-like “Nebo jití jest Hospodinovo” show the band’s range and sense of humor at the same time.

The showcase song on the album is the twenty minute long “100 bodù”, a rambling and completely improvisational jam with rambling half-sung, half-spoken vocals that I believe have something to do with the 1974 police raid of a Plastics concert at the town of Budejovice, although I can’t be sure.

This is one of the marginal Plastics albums that I know was released more for its historical interest than for its musical value; but even in that context its an important album for fans. The early versions of “Prší, prší” and “Spofa Blues” are worth hearing, and the more edgy tracks show a side of the band that wasn’t exposed all that often on their other recordings. This is better than a collector’s piece but probably not essential, so three stars it is but a big red raspberry in tribute of the dishonor to a state that deserved every bit of that.

peace

At some point in the Plastic People’s career they relocated from Prague to Vienna, or at least those who were not still in jail back in communist Czechoslovakia did. I believe it was there that ‘Co Znamená Vésti Koně’ was recorded, but I’m not positive.

There is definitely a major shift in the band’s sound with this record in any case. Considering the strong bond these guys had with each other and the relative transparency of how changes in their lineup or circumstances had in corresponding changes to their sound, I’d say it is fairly certain this was a post- exodus record for them.

The overall impression here is of a recording that is far more refined and restrained than anything they had done to that point. At times I’d almost dare use the term symphonic (or maybe arch-symphonic) to describe it. Don’t get me wrong – the penchant for paying regular tribute to Velvet Underground, Zappa and Captain Beefheart is still strong, but the group has reigned in their previously unrestrained enthusiasm a bit and focused on actual arrangements versus the previous tendency to improvise heavily. I must say this new dimension is quite appealing and gives greater credence to their standing.

On songs like “P.F.” and “Samson” where atonal clarinet, madman shouted vocals and feral strings remind us that this is the Plastic People (as opposed to a normal band), the group manages to set the whole thing to a steady cadence with just enough restraint that one feels like this is well thought-out music with an air of worldly wisdom to it.

Elsewhere, like with lengthy and strangely worship-leaning “Fotopneumatická Pamì”, the band shows a new side; reverent, reflective versus angry, and quite focused on exploring the various sounds that are introduced as a part of the overall message in the song (as opposed to just for the sake of exploring sounds for their own sake). This sound would crop up again on ‘Hovězí Porážka’ and even more so with ‘Půlnoční Myš’ before the group would finally fracture.

The transformation isn’t totally complete though; with “Mše” there is a relapse into dirge-like improvisation and dissonance, and while the lengthy “Osip” shows some thought toward arrangement, it is also quite primitive and not very approachable if you haven’t heard the group before.

This is one of the better Plastic People albums in my opinion. They seem to be more focused on their music and less on the emotions and experiences behind the music, which I think in this case results in a more cohesive body of work. I’m still going to recommend that anyone starting off with this band pick up their ‘1997’ live concert release first, but this one wouldn’t make a bad follow-on to that one for those who want to hear more. Four stars and recommended to the adventurous prog fan.

peace

Not everything the Plastic People of the Universe did was exactly great. Despite their inspiring story one has to critique the music on its own merits, and the amateurish musicianship on this, their third release, was pretty rough stuff.

The album’s title 'Jak bude po smrti' means “what it’ll be like after death”, or “afterlife”, a topic bassist/vocalist and unofficial band leader Milan Hlavsa seemed to be somewhat obsessed with in his early compositions. Unless you know Czech you’ll have to imagine what they’re singing about or find an English translation though. The music is instantly recognizable as that of the Plastics thanks to the abundance of discordant guitar/bass, atonal and dissonant horns, and timing that is almost impossible to follow.

But unlike the comparatively restrained first album (‘Egon Bondy’s Lonely Hearts Club Banned’), and some of their later albums after their musicianship had improved considerably; this record is very, very rough. The recording quality isn’t very good either, and I think this was actually recorded live in one take.

There is very little variation between the three lengthy tracks here, and I suspect a lot of the music was improvised. Not much else to say about it except that you shouldn’t expect much if you get a chance to listen to it, but I don’t think it takes anything away from the band’s story; this is simply where they were musically at the time.

If you are even remotely interested in this band, their history and their music – don’t start with this album. I’d recommend picking up their live reunion record ‘1997’, then maybe a compilation like ‘Vožralej jak slíva’. If you’re still hanging in there then put this one on your list as a completer piece. Otherwise I hate to do this because I truly love these guys, but this is no better than a two star album, even for them.

peace

By the time the Plastics recorded the tracks for this album they were under pretty much constant surveillance and harassment by the communist police in Prague. The home where they recorded ‘Co znamená vésti koně’ had been burned to the ground by police, and longtime member saxophonist Vratislav Brabenec had been arrested and beaten enough times that he was forced to leave Czechoslovakia and resettle in Canada where he eventually found a new living as a gardener. He appears on only one track here (“Papírový hlavy”) but would resurface in the band’s 1997 return concert following the collapse of the Soviet Union although only on a couple songs in that show. Three of the songs on this album (“Šel pro krev”, “Kanárek” and “Špatná věc”) would be played during that show.

The thing I notice most about this album is the increased emphasis on atonal reed and horn sounds. Václav Stádník plays bass clarinet and flute and new member Petr Placák a variety of clarinets. The lower registers of the twin bass clarinets result in a rather depressing sound, and the overall mood of this record seems more resigned than the band’s previous works. The band also picked up a Korg somewhere, and keyboardist Josef Janíček plays it on most of the tracks here and on their next release ‘Půlnoční myš’.

Otherwise this appears to be more of the same by the band. The songs are all sung in Czech, something that Brabenec encouraged the band to do after he joined them in 1972. Prior to that they alternated between Czech and English, partly because of their many English-speaking influences (Zappa, Velvet Underground, the Fugs), and partly thanks to the brief period in which Canadian Paul Wilson was in the band in the early seventies.

The English translation of the album title means ‘slaughtered beef’ or something to that effect. One can only imagine what the band members were referring to considering the tribulations they had suffered at the hands of their oppressive government throughout the entire history of the group. The Berlin Wall was still a few years from falling, but the band themselves would call it a day following this and their next album, with some members going on to form Půlnoc and some of them reuniting in the late nineties.

This isn’t really a standout album from the band, but anything they’ve managed to commit to vinyl over the years is well worth a listen by progressive music fans and those whose blood boils at the thought of people having to suffer for the simple act of making music. Give it a spin if you get a chance, this is an important piece of musical history that you’ll certainly never hear on your local radio station. Four stars.

peace

This collection of tracks come from various source between 77 and 82 (this is the eighth chapter in the Globus International series on the PPOTU) and but does not include the album Passion Play, the album following the "famous" Egon Bundy's Happy Hearts Club Banned , which was the only album of theirs that managed to sneak through the Iron Curtain and get a release in France (only there, unfortunately). The group was still enduring police repression and some members spent up to 18 months in the Party's jails, while their manager will spend more than 8 years of his life in there for his RnR beliefs. Led by the powerful and scary-looking (a completely broken and deformed nose gracing the centre of this hairy shagged face) saxman Vrastislav Brabenec and the no less impressive and hairy (but less ugly) violin player Jiri Kabes.

Leading off is the 28 minutes-long 100 Bodies (a recount of a Warsaw Pact massacre ending the Spring Of Prague and we are in a typical minimal Velvet Underground and Can groove where the band improvises over a slowly evolving beat, even if the "song" has four different stages and sometimes interesting chord changes. The 20-mins Dopis Magorovi is much the same as its predecessor with some really insane digressions into madness, notably through the piano and the violin, but also through the myriad of artistes fighting the regime in one way or another. There is even one line yelled by anarchist and avant-garde script and playwright (and future president by popular acclaim after the communist regime fell) Vaclav Havel. An absolutely astounding track!

The following 8-min+ Phil Esposito track is a weird (even stupid) vocal montage depicting the Philadelphia Flyers hockey player and his exploits in beating up the Czechoslovak team in the final of the 76 Canada Cup over quasi-African musical chaos and chants. While rather funny and amusing at first, this track will not stand much repeated listening without hitting your nerves. Between the Czech team won that cup and the writing of this silly if hilarious track, I suppose that they made it 2 - 0. After such a silly session, Metastaze (you'd think these guys had a jail wish, uh ;-) is an absolute delight with the delicate and inventive drum beat being surfed upon by the brass instruments and a jumpy bass, the whole thing having a delightful Eastern Gypsy-jazz flavour without being overpowering, but dying in an ugly sax death throe. Probably one of the band's best moments in their long provocative career, but this track was certainly more challenging than "derangesome".

The short title track is another track reminiscent of those many groups (past but mostly future) that made a specialty of that Gypsy-Jazz or Jazz-Manouche. The closing Socialne Blizci (social XXX) is yet another piece like the preceding two, and by now, the group was in full swing into its proggiest years.

This collection is certainly one of the country/continent's most important release as it is the not-so silent witness of the fight against totalitarianism and this comes from one of the most politically-engaged groups ever: Plastic People Of The Universe. Essential and outstanding stuff.

— First review of this album —

This live album makes it really unclear whether it offers a '73 concert of PPOTU released in '92 or it offers a '92 reunion concert by the '73 line-up. Most likely it is the second option, based on the Czech lengthy intro/speech. Most likely in '73, they wouldn't have wasted some precious concert time, before the State police would inevitably break up their concert and throw a few members in jail. Graced with nude forest '73 shot of the line-up of this album, and a few more in concert shots, including the list of the personnel of the group from 68 until 73 but the presentation is not really that engaging.

Outside the lengthy intro, this albums is made of two more section: a cover section including The Doors' Light My Fire (correct if pointless version), Velvet Underground's Waiting For The Man (just as pointless and of lesser interest, even if VU was PPOTU's major influence) and The Fugs' Garden Is Open, which is actually fairly interesting. Actually the choice of these covers is not innocent either, as they started with cover these late 60's band as a reaction of resistance to the Warsaw Pact invasion, putting an end to the Spring of Prague. Unlike the more progressive Czech and Slovak group that managed tolerance from the authorities because of symphonic or jazz relations in their music, PPOTU were really at the forefront of the artist's resistance against the oppressive regime and met on a few occasion other heroes (even playing at Vaclav Havel's residence) and got every concert of theirs raided, ended up arrested and a few times thrown in jail. Why they were is that they refused to play down the western "English" names and covered some of the more aggressive and decadent groups around, especially Velvet Underground, which irritated the Party.

The second section is the more personal side of PPOTU with three "originals", starting with the Bo Diddley-derived Modry Autobus, and even in their own tracks, they couldn't resist blatant provocation, here speaking of San Fran and the Summer Of Love. The following Podivuhodny Mandarin is much more interesting (poking fun at the other communist power), a good sax solo and it is the highlight of this section and rates even better than The Fug's cover. The closing Magicki Noci is another scorcher, approaching Indian raga at times with their extremely repetititititituititive descending bass riff mixed with an Eastern-sounding violin and clarinet.

As unrepresentative as this album could possibly be (but actually not that much either), this live album is the ideal introduction to the group, because it is slightly more accessible (the covers helping out also) than their usually darker and obscure 70's stuff, but it will give you a correct foretaste.

— First review of this album —

This is by far the most disjointed and raw of the Plastic People albums, or at least of the ones I’ve heard. ‘Muž bez uší’ (‘Man with no ears’ or something close to that) is a compilation of sorts, although I’m not clear on its exact history. The only version available that I’m aware of is the late 90’s Globus CD release, although this is actually a collection of the band’s earliest work from the late 60’s to around 1972 when they became personae non gratis with the Communist regime in Czechoslovakia. This album includes a few of the tracks the band recorded with Canadian Paul Wilson who was unceremoniously escorted from the country in 1977, reportedly because of his involvement with the band.

The tracks here are very uneven, with even the best only approaching garage punk-band cassette recording quality and the worst being nothing more than snippets that appear to have been recorded on cheap cassette players or archaic four-track equipment. Most of these are also live as well, since the band never really had access to anything resembling a studio in those days.

The musical range is quite striking as well, ranging from proto-punk (title track and “The Universe Symphony and Melody about Plastic Doctor”) to psych folk (“The Sun”, “The Fairy Queen”) to what almost sounds like a pub dirge (“Fuddle Duddle Osh Kosh”). The band was clearly in their salad days, experimenting and missing at least as often as they hit on something innovative. A few of the tracks feature English lyrics thanks to the tutelage of Mr. Wilson, but frankly it’s hard to discern the actual words and the only liner notes are in Czech, so their meaning is lost on many listeners. Some of the titles give a clue, particularly the Wilson- penned “Rosie Rottencrotch” and the very hazy and trippy “Indian Hay”.

This is actually a far cry from the band that would move through Velvet Underground and Zappa territory and eventually to a rather unique ethnic jazz sound by the nineties. But this is a great snapshot of the Plastic People when they were just a fledgling and defiant hippy band, and just before they became a national icon for the spirit of protest in the Soviet-controlled east Bloc. And for that reason this is a pretty important piece of musical history.

The recording quality and obscurity of the band keep this from reaching essential territory, and compared to some of the band’s later work this is not even essential Plastic People music. But it is a very interesting album to listen to, especially to hear a number of varied sounds that would eventually be heard from much more prominent bands during the very early seventies, and even much later with the emergence of punk. This is not punk music by any stretch, but it’s amazing to hear a bunch of rather angry young men from Prague in 1969 sound an awful lot like a bunch of angry young men in London and New York in 1977. Three stars at least.

peace

‘Egon Bondy’s Happy Hearts Club Banned’ was the first album actually released for public consumption by the Iron Curtain-restrained Plastic People of the Universe. ‘Ach to státu hanobení’ contains earlier recordings, but to the best of my knowledge that record was never actually released until Globus took a shining to the band’s body of work around the turn of the century.

And from what I’ve read the band didn’t even know this was released at the time. These tracks were mostly recorded surreptitiously in 1974 in Czechoslovakia. But the Plastics were not an officially-sanctioned musical group by the Soviet regime at the time, so actually releasing the record was out of the question. Some friends of the band managed to transport the tapes to France in 1978, where something known as Scopa Invisible Productions released it on vinyl.

I first heard most of these tracks on the ‘1997’ live CD that the band recorded during a triumphant return to Prague after the fall of the Soviet Union. The difference between these early, very primitive recordings and the comparatively more polished 1997 versions is quite striking. The sound quality on these recordings is very uneven, and I suppose would be considered poor at times. And the arrangements, such as they are, take on more of an improvisational tenor most of the time. But that was the modus operandi of the band at that time: they practiced parts, usually individually, in friends apartments or secret locations when they could, and typically only put the pieces together when they found their way onto an occasional stage.

The first track “Dvacet” (or “20”) is a good example. On the 1997 recording this is almost note-for-note the same song, but the inflections of the brass and guitars, as well as the scratchy recording tapes on ‘Egon Bondy’ make this sound more like an eerie soundtrack for a zombie movie.

“Toxika” is another track that sounds like an early, primitive version of the hypnotic, pulsating psych dirge that the band would morph it into by 1997. The tempo is much slower, the strings a bit hesitant, and again the recording quality sucks. But if you’ve heard the finished product from twenty years later, this one has a certain emergent charm that is quite engaging. Same goes for “Magické noci”, another heavy-tempo number that not only got more polished by the time the band emerged from hiding years after the Prague Spring, but also became something of an extended live jam bit. On this album it comes off like a tuning session, but again – it’s very fun to listen to side-by- side with later versions.

“Metro Goldwyn Mayer” is probably the slowest and most restrained thing I’ve ever heard the band do, and the slowly wailing brass must have been totally intoxicating played under the stars at secret festivals while the Soviet fascists patrolled the nearby parks and hang-outs of Prague in the mid-seventies.

The hidden gem here is “Elegie”, a five-minute rendition of a song that was little more than a transition piece in the 1997 concert. Here it gets a full treatment of percussion, brass, and a seductively lively bass line. Frank Zappa would have been suitably impressed (and he probably was, as I’m quite sure he had occasion to spin this record a few times back in the day).

And finally there’s “Jó, to se ti to spí”, a kind of folkish, silly ditty that closes this record just as it closed the 1997 concert. It’s amazing to me that these guys were able to process all the sh!t they had to endure to be able to make music behind the Iron Curtain, yet were still able to pull off a silly little light-hearted jaunt like this one to send a satisfied audience back into their dark lives.

There’s a CD reissue of this record that was released in the early 21st-century that has a bunch of other tracks on it, most of which I’ve never heard. Not sure where they come from. But this version is a true classic for anyone who cherishes music with lots of heart, soul, and hope, and is probably my favorite Plastic People of the Universe recording. Highly recommended to music history buffs, Zappa fans, and those who enjoy something really different from time to time. Four stars.

peace