Hardy Fox: Hardy Fox (Secret Records)
Purchased through mail order
William Burroughs said that language was a virus. It infects us, and our DNA is altered by it. He offered a challenge: sit silently for ten seconds and see if you can't think of a word. He thought we can't do it.
I don't think he's entirely right. I can sit that long, longer, without thinking of words, but only if I'm thinking about music. Is music the real virus? Having experienced music, does it change our DNA?
Scientifically, probably not. And yet, doesn't feel as if some music does more than move you? Doesn't it alter you in some significant way?
That's how I feel about hearing The Residents' Duck Stab/Buster and Glen for the first time. Something about that record seeped into me. The abrasiveness of the opening cut, "Constantinople", was startling. The second track, "Sinister Exaggerator", had a mildly psychedelic effect on me. I can only think of one or two other times that's happened to me. I find something compelling about even the weakest songs on that album, and consider it a desert island disc.
Today would have been Hardy Fox's birthday. He would have been 78. He died in 2018 from brain cancer, and really awful way to go. It's killed several of my friends.
Hardy announced he had been the musical director of The Residents after his retirement from the band in 2015. I think he had retired from their infrequent tours even before that. I've read that he might have been behind the idea of an anonymous collective. After 44 years, I think he earned the right to take (co-)credit for his immense body of work. Anyone who was paying attention knew he was one of the primary forces behind the band anyway, the only surprise being him staking his claim over the work.
I love Duck Stab, I love Commercial Album, Fingerprince, The Third Reich N Roll. Hell, I enjoy Meet The Residents, Eskimo, Not Available, even Mark of the Mole, though that 1981 album is already the beginning of when I lose interest in them. I still collected their albums for a few years, and each had their highlights. But they just became less interesting to me the more them embraced digital technology and sampling. I liked the sweat on those early records. The passion comes through, the brazen originality, the full-steam-ahead approach despite being primitive musicians.
Even within The Residents' world, he released essentially solo albums. I haven't paid attention. Most of the albums of theirs I've bought in recent years all have to do with their early years, the reissue pREServed series, collections of oddities and leftovers, and the first official released of Baby Sex on vinyl.
This self-titled LP was released around the same time as that LP. Hardy had died a few months before its release. I felt compelled to find a copy.
It's poignant. Most of the singing on Residents albums are done by the "Singing Resident" AKA Randy Rose AKA everybody knows who it is but I won't write his name anyway. Hardy sings throughout this album. He doesn't have a great voice and I don't know what his health was like when this was recorded. He sounds fragile, and it adds to the listening experience. It's more intimate than most Residents albums. His voice turns up occasionally on early records, on songs such as "Suburban Bathers" and "Godsong". He's easy to identify, especially when contrasted with the usual singer. The voice is mixed just a little low, a little below the surface, with a reverb that makes it sound consistently like he's across a room.
I don't pick out lyrics often. There's isn't necessarily traditional song structures for most pieces on this, and many of the vocals are spoken. There are a few lines I caught having to do with his homosexuality. It wasn't a secret. He spoke of his relationship with "Roman" (not his real name) in an interview I read, shortly before his retirement.
All instruments are keyboard or digitally based, with some exceptions like some guitar and bass. He's certainly mastered working with such technologies, having been there pretty much from the beginning of the sampling and MIDI age.
It's an album worthy of listening, even if it's not as glorious as his early work. But, how many artists can say they're doing vital, original work after four and a half decades? As an album it's fine piece by piece, but doesn't have an arc. It all has a similar tone, different shades of the same colors, but not immense highs and lows. Which leads me to think, am going in with unfair expectations?
The vinyl is a beautiful splattery green on green and red, but the pressing is not good. Many pops and clicks. It came with a flexidisc single, which turns out to be unplayable. Sigh. I don't know if it's my fault, the label's, or the reseller's.
I visited Ralph Records and The Residents' studio on my honeymoon in 1986. I happen to stop by when they were away visiting family. My contact there told me she wished she had the chance to introduce me to H, which was Hardy's nickname. Me too, now more than ever.
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