- Greg Ginn And The Taylor Texas Corrugators
- Legends Of Williamson County
I’m going to let you in on a little secret.
Forget about Roswell, New Mexico.
Forget about Area 51 in Nevada.
You want to talk about crash-landed flying saucers and captive space aliens? I got living proof right here in my hand that there’s a bunch of them right in Texas, boys and girls.
No, no – I’m not talking about former presidents or present-day presidential candidates: I’m talking about beings who might be from galaxies far away but have some serious blues/jazz/psych shit going on. Uh-huh. On the back of Legends Of Williamson County, the new album by Greg Ginn And The Taylor Texas Corrugators, the credits might read as follows: “Greg Ginn – guitar, bass, organ; Sean Hutchinson – drums; Gary Piazza – guitar” but there are definitely extra-terrestrial hands and minds involved here, as well.
The thing is, Piazza and Ginn can dole out rusty-fendered Texas-style blues guitar when they want to, but then they’ll turn around and shapeshift right into sounding like the Carousel Ballroom at 1 AM on an early Saturday morning in February of ’68 or so. And Ginn’s bass playing is just as wonderfully eclectic (as is Hutchinson’s drumming – you can’t pull off Star Trek-style transporter stuff like this unless the drummer is right there with you). And throughout it all, Ginn (ah, yes – him again) caulks the seams and flavors the stew with passages and dollops of keyboard work that spans the gamut from British Invasion-style swirls to moments of Hellmonious Hall Of The Three-Headed Mountain King majesty.
And you’re telling me this all comes from three earthlings hanging out in a little studio in the middle of Texas? Yep. Sure. Try again.
Featuring eleven instrumental tracks that paint big, big sonic pictures, Legends Of Williamson County is a wild ride that keeps you tuned in just to see what the crazy bastards are going to do next. (And I don’t mean to be a spoiler here, but l’m going to let you in on a secret: no matter how weird the musical derring-do gets, they never fail.)
“Welcome, Stranger” ushers things in like all good theme songs to a psychedelic/science fiction/spy thriller flick should. The nine-minute-and-twenty-second “FSP” lumbers along in a stately manner, gently swirling and turning around inside of itself like a slow-paced “New Potato Caboose” jam. After the opening seconds of winding the key, “Twirly Bird” takes flight as a happy romp at the go-go, but then gets serious, introspective, and so multi-colored you’re going to want to brace off against the wall for a moment. “Not Plum But Pert’ Near” would make the perfect background music for the flying saucers pursuing each other around the Andromeda Galaxy like the chase scene in Bullitt. “The Right Kind Of Medication” is definitely surf music from a place with less gravity than our planet. “Breakfast At Night” vacillates between hard-edged stomp and the sweetest of power glides. And “Trailing Through A Molasses Laiden Swamp” – the quickie track of the album at only three minutes – is as gooey of a space jam as advertised.
It’s fun; it’s heady; it’s wild; and it’s great musicianship by all hands. All I’m asking is that someone come clean about some of the hands that made the music on Legends Of Williamson County being neon green and having seven fingers, three suction modules, and a nifty can-opener attachment. (On the males, anyhow.)
Or not. Keep it a secret. Go ahead.
It’s still a cool album.