THE PRESIDENT'S TAPES
Flicknife
SOMETHING of an acquired taste, this one. If you've already been exposed to ICU's eccentric variation on a theme of Psycho-d'elia, chances are you'll like this thing. Otherwise ... well, as I said, it's an acquired taste.
Led, as ever, by the indefatigable Nik Turner, ICU operate within the sort of areas no other band would dream of visiting, writing the songs no other band would dare to write. "World Of LSD", for instance, is a lengthy paean to the joys of getting completely obliterated through sundry chemicals - which isn't a particularly good example to set for our impressionable Pop Kids, but there again, how many impressionable Pop Kids would be listening to it anyway?
ICU defined their audience long ago, any new converts stray into the camp purely through the auspices of Turner's occasional appearances back with the mothership, Hawkwind. That even that band of renegades offer up precious few clues as to the true nature of ICU only emphasises just how left of centre Turner's own ideas are.
He is, first and foremost, a brilliant satirist even "World Of LSD" stands guilty of not taking itself seriously. hence the band's lifting of their own "Space Invaders" riff for part of the song. Think about it drug abuse might be this year's evil scourge, but it's not that long ago that amusement arcades were being similarly condemned.
Other songs ... "Fungus Amongst Us" is one of ICU's crazed appioximations of rockabilly, "Zodiac" is a bastardised second cousin to some great surfing instrumental, while the title track is a staccato outburst of discordant sax, Indian war-whoops and a chorus of "California dreaming again ... watching the end of the world". These songs, like the band who created them, are oddballs and, as such, should be cherished.
DAVE THOMPSON - Melody Maker
THE PRESIDENT'S TAPES
(Flicknife Sharp 03 1)**** (four stars.. that's one short of 5 ..which is tops!)
The last time I saw Nik Turner was at the Stonehenge non-festival this summer. Just settling into my first hour's sleep for a couple of days, I was disturbed by someone treading heavily on my leg. I mustered up the energy to raise an eyelid, to be greeted by Mr Turner's features leering at me through the gloom.
"'Ere," he inquired. "Do you know where I put my saxophone?"
Well, I'm glad he found it, or he may not have come up with such a wiggy-brilliant album as this.
Nik and the rest of ICU have cut their punk muscle and deranged anarcho-frills into a meaty, tempting sandwich, a psyche-rock epic Motorhead and Husker Du boiled in a pot of mushroom tea.
However, while they're still crawling through 'The World Of LSD' or asking 'Stonehenge: Who Knows?', it's certainly no go on the breaking new barriers front, but I shouldn't think they care. Neither do I.
"Sounds like Jethro Tull," wisecracks my business colleague and light of my life. It doesn't, believe me.
Neil Perry - Sounds
