Ready to Where?

Tailor-Made to Rock

by G. Hampton Wandersmythies, Fjord Foundation Chair of Conceptual Studies, University of Helsinki at Heddagabler

Seldom in the history of so-called "programme-music," that is, instrumental music geared toward some extra-musical conceptual scheme, or what in vulgar parlance is sometimes called an "idea," has there been music of such conceptual weight and relevance as that of Ready to Where?, the new phonograph record by the ensemble known as Four Piece Suit. Indeed, allusions already proliferate at the very mention of the record's title, for who can fail to hear the echoes of filmmaker Hans Josef Reddituveer (Koppelfoppelfraulinedopple [Short Pants], 1915), German Expressionism's master of celluloid? When quizzed about the Reddituveer influence, guitarist Milt Reder admits, "Well, it's all there now, isn't it?" It is indeed, Milt, we must nod vigorously in agreement, for there is little, conceptually, musically, or otherwise, that Four Piece Suit's new record cannot be said to contain. It is a compendium of modern culture, a time capsule etched on to vinyl, in short, a virtual Waste Land of modern music. Whether combining the inscrutable wisdom of the East with the super-scrutable reverb of the West ("Rambunctious,") or serving up the francophile, fin-de-siecle verve of existential drama ("In Pain In Paris"), Ready To Where? is a heady whirl through being and nothingness, fear and trembling, rock and rolling that no responsible member of the thinking class can afford to miss.

Four Piece Suit freely acknowledges their musical debts, insisting that their music glances over its shoulder at the past as much as it strains its eyes over the vast visual field ahead of it. Their telling attitude toward Henry Mancini ("A Shot In the Dark" and "Something For Cat") is one of hushed awe and reverence. "Mancini, of course, was just it," opines bassist Dean Cassell. "I've never seen anyone like him in concert--you couldn't take your eyes off him. I remember one night, our band followed him in Vegas. He had us arrested, of course, but not before I'd tried on his orange pajamas and Pink Panther slippers. It was a moment." Other reverential covers include Neil Young's "Hey Hey, My My," Xavier Cugat's "El Cumbanchero," and The Nits' "Walter and Conny." Of the latter song, Reder says, "We just couldn't pass it up. After all, it's my middle name."

"Kolme Kitaraa" is a traditional song of Finland saxophonist David Sholl remembers from his Helsinki childhood. "We used to whistle it at school. The other kids told me kolme kitaraa meant to 'break wind long and loud,' which, being a tenor-man, pleased me enormously. Only later did I learn it meant 'three guitars.' I don't like it nearly as much anymore."

Drummer Lorne Entress claims that "Strip Search" stems from his fascination with reality-based cop TV shows. "I've been on several episodes," he boasts. "Speeding, driving without a license, and, of course, that dead shrimp affair in Georgia. It's amazing the rhythms a police force can get our of their batons! And it differs from state-to-state. I remember being beaten in 7/8 time in Shreveport, and the next night in Newport News in 5/4. It's inspiring, and not as deadly as one might think."

No one in the band (or outside of it, for that matter) will comment on the ambiguous content of "Mondo Bondo," ("I see it as our 'Louie Louie' Cassell suggests) and they're similarly cagey as to the subject of "Dark Eyes," though Entress suggests we check out Chaucer's "Miller's Tale." "I think the Chaucerian element of the band has really been downplayed by the media," Sholl fumes, "and it really pisses me off." "Human Jungle," Reder insists, is a misprint. "It should've been 'Hunan Jungle,'' the Chinese Restaurant where I met the rest of the group when they were performing as an experimental big band called The Decline and Fall of James K. Polk. I'm not much for cabaret, but the Moo-Shu was exceptional."

Four Piece Suit are virtually assured to ascend the heights of the rock pantheon with the mute ecstasy of their conceptually-driven, sound-without-words music. Whether it's the in-your-face Leninism of the band's protest against terrible conditions in preserve factories ("Jam Up") or the group's aching paean to onanistic angst ("Lonesome Lover"), Four Piece Suit's music is sure to incite a great deal of conceptual activity among the craniums of the thinking classes, and, medicinally speaking, should quiet the voices in your head, as they have for this reviewer.

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