Artist..........: Caroline Peyton
Album...........: Mock Up
Genre...........: Folk
Label...........: Asterisk
Catnr...........: 430062
Source..........: CDDA
Rip.Date........: 20-06-2010
Street.Date.....: 26-01-2009
Quality.........: VBR/44.1kHz/Joint Stereo
Url.............: http://musique.fnac.com/a2537479
Size............: 75.55MB
Song.Title :
01. The Sky In Japan Is Always Close To You 4:56
02. Pull 3:16
03. Don Beggs 3:20
04. Between Two 3:28
05. Tuna 2:23
06. Engram 3:19
07. Sweet Misery 4:23
08. Hook 2:38
09. Gone For A Day 5:26
10. Bill Monroe (Extended Play) 2:04
11. Breathe (Live) 8:37
12. All This Waiting 3:40
13. Path Of Light 5:02
14. White Teeth 5:32
Runtime: 58:04 min
Release.Info :
Bloomington, Indiana in 1972. It is seldom listed among the most groundbreaking
music scenes: Detroit in 1962, New York in 1976, Minneapolis in 1982, Seattle in
1989. But while the coasts were putting the hippie dream to bed, it was still
burning bright in supposedly behind-the-times pockets of the Midwest. And it was
inspiring some unholy unions, such as that of Caroline Peyton, vocally gifted
goddaughter of William Styron who turned down acceptance to the Boston
Conservatory of Music to immerse herself among BloomingtonÆs musical bohos, and
Mark Bingham, a jazz-and-acid-but-not-acid-jazz aficionado who was fired as an
Elektra RecordsÆ in-house songwriter, allegedly for not being commercial enough.
Ejected from California back to Bloomington, Bingham helped found the Screaming
Gypsy Bandits, an offbeat experimental collective that was more about
music-backed freak-outs than actual music, and would puzzle and repel most of
todayÆs freak-folk proprietors. Peyton and Bingham met at the Needmore Commune
where they were both residing, and they quickly became lovers and mutual muses.
Quite fortuitously, NeedmoreÆs well-off owner was throwing some, but not enough,
of her money into a fly-by-night upstart record label, meant to document the
frazzled sounds coming out of Bloomingdale. The label had no staff or promotion.
It is telling that its anticipated first release, a Screaming Gypsy Bandits
record, was scrapped because the band could not muster enough sobriety to
record.
Instead, Bar-B-Q debuted with Caroline PeytonÆs Mock Up in 1972, shortly after
Peyton and Bingham returned from a hitchhiked road trip to California, a failed
attempt to make music industry contacts. Mock Up validates their boho mythology:
one can imagine Peyton not hitchhiking, but twirling her way to the Golden
State, her frilly, ankle-length dress scraping along dusty desert roads, Bingham
literally tripping a few steps behind. With Peyton singing and playing guitar,
Bingham producing and writing, and all sorts of Bloomington buddies jamming
along, most notably versatile pianist Mark Gray, whose shimmering chords enliven
the weaker moments, Mock Up can today be seen as a historical snapshot of the
Bloomington scene. Unfortunately, it is fascinating more as history than as
music, as the record is infuriatingly uneven, often dull, occasionally
excruciating. With no commercial aspirations in mind, Bingham and Peyton refused
to check their indulgent tendencies at the door: ôBill Monroeö is two horrendous
minutes of various animal noises, bound to terrify its namesake, and ôDon Beggsö
overpowers the listener with obnoxious glass-shattering operatics.
Too many songsùmost notably the opener ôThe Sky in Japan is Always Close to
Youöùare plodding and pale Joni Mitchell imitations. In fact, Peyton almost
prophetically predicts MitchellÆs eventual jazz fixation. Mark Bingham is a
proud jazzbo, and his compositions owe more to jazz experimentalism than pop
formula. While an interesting conceit for music theorists, for the average pop
listener, it drags the songs into the muck. Only when the songs get upbeat and
funky do Peyton and Bingham deliver any serious energy. ôPullö and ôSweet
Miseryö are steamy Peyton & Bingham duets, where the funky, wild sexual tension
is palpable. PeytonÆs voice could convey exquisite sexiness, but aside from a
couple provocative lines ùôIÆll pull it right out of my pantsö, ôDreamed and
schemed and creamed in my jeansö ùsheÆs more content to sound like a wigged-out
Judy Collins, singing BinghamÆs hallucinatory non sequiturs with a conviction
they do not merit, as if they mean something. Mock Up, like acid-freak creations
before and since, has moments of exquisite beauty and obnoxious indulgence. But
even with most of its songs achieving some sort of structure or listenability,
it is at best an acquired taste for a limited audience, and at worst, a druggy
mess that encapsulates every pejorative association attached to the word
ôhippieö.
Mock UpÆs failure, it should be noted, is more BinghamÆs than PeytonÆs. Peyton
is a phenomenal singer: her voice a multi-octave, scale-soaring instrument. But
BinghamÆs material sells her short. Nevertheless, Mock UpÆs potential scored
Peyton, Bingham, and Gray an ultimately unsuccessful audition for Clive Davis.
After a sojourn in Albany, Peyton and Bingham found themselves back in
Bloomington, their romantic relationship over but the professional relationship
inexplicably persevering. Out of this ennui came Intuition, a record begun in
1974 but not completed until 1977, a far cry from the two weeks it took to knock
out Mock Up. The extra time evinces IntuitionÆs commercial bent, detectable from
the slick guitar chords that open the album. This is PeytonÆs bid to be a pop
star, one in the vein of Linda Ronstadt, Maria Muldaur, or Bonnie Raitt. She had
the voice for it: after five years, her voice was more controlled and melodious,
free of the showoffish, freaky affectations that marred Mock UpÆs most
off-putting moments. She offers a light-hearted twangy lilt to ôStill with Youö,
her catchiest song by a mile, and slays soulful blues numbers like ôTogetherö
and ôDonkey Bluesö. Even her folk ballads (ôCall of the Wildö, ôLight Yearsö)
are more lucid than the knotty, murky performances on Mock Up.
But there is still a sense that the material is lacking. Despite his increasing
involvement in other projects, and decreasing involvement in PeytonÆs romantic
life (she eventually married), Bingham once and again wrote and produced the
album, and the pop songsmith hat, as Elektra founder Jac Holzman had noticed a
decade earlier, doesnÆt really fit him. BinghamÆs songwriting is still too
unfocused to sell PeytonÆs remarkable voice, which would better suit more
streamlined pop fare. His compositions seem bored with themselves, as though
embarrassed by this trite pop exercise, nowhere more so than the bandwagon
hopping disco cut ôParty Lineö. On Intuition, he prizes an almost knowing
blandness over jazz-folk ethereality, and the result is a more accessible but
almost equally disappointing record.
Alas, Intuition was recorded in Indiana, and released on Bar-B-Q. Thus, its pop
aspirations were little more than wishful thinking: despite a write-up in
Rolling Stone, the disc tanked, and Bar-B-Q folded shortly after. Both Peyton
and Bingham took the more mercenary routes to success that so enamored
thirtysomething hippies as the æ80s dawned: Peyton as a theatre performer and
Disney vocalist, Bingham as a working songwriter. But musical movements are a
cyclical beast, and with experimental hippie folkies once again a hot property
for independent labels, it is an opportune era for Peyton reissues.
In the hope that the Banhart-and-Newsom-nation will anoint Peyton the next
undiscovered treasure of yesteryear, the Numero Group has reissued her two æ70s
albums with extensive, insightful liner notes courtesy of Edd Hurt, a generous
supply of photos, and of course, extra tracks. Those on Mock Up are worthless.
ôBreatheö, a live Screaming Gypsy Bandits recording, affirms that Bingham did
indeed abandon many of his worst excesses for the recording of Mock Up. It is a
monotonous, endless eight-minute dronefest guaranteed to clear a room faster
than Metal Machine Music. And ôWhite Teethö is a blathering tabla-and-sitar
workout that takes a long time to do nothing. But perhaps the saddest afterword
to these overlooked discs are the Intuition outtakes, which include ôShake
Downö, a robbery narrative that marks BinghamÆs most sustained lyric and
PeytonÆs toughest vocal (why it was omitted from the album is a lingering
question), and five acoustic demos of non-Bingham songs. Unsurprisingly, these
offer a tantalizing glimpse of what could have been, had Peyton cut the ties
with Bingham earlier. PeytonÆs own songs, especially the beguiling ôMother
NatureÆs Dealö and the moving ôTry to Be Trueö, are gorgeous meditations on life
and love that would have easily earned her a spot among the California
singer-songwriter set, free of the meandering defiance of form that tripped up
Bingham.
Honestly, it is difficult to imagine these recordings finding many new fans
today: PeytonÆs music is strictly of its time and place, and only rarely
transcends that. Thus, listening to these albums is like pining through library
archives on some vast research project: itÆs informative, occasionally
compelling, seldom fun. Without the commune backdrop or the copious drug
consumption that informed their creation, Mock Up and Intuition are tough to
enjoy, and if they live on at all, they will do so only as curiosities.
Contact : crossfader@hush.ai
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