NO IDEA WHAT IT IS, BUT I'LL TAKE IT

TOKYO KID BROTHERS
Throw Away The Books Let's Go Into The Streets 1971, P-Vine/Victor Records

Fuzzy Rock Song With Protesting Woman In The Middle

Shouting Man Followed By Rousing Acid Rock Jam

Ensemble Punky Krauty Hippy Rock Track


There's one shop in New York where I buy three-quarters of the music I don't order online. Yes, it has eclectic inventory that turns over efficiently. But the real reason I love this place so much is that they give free reign when it comes to exploring and experimenting with their inventory. All of the discs are arranged on their racks and shelves, without protective cases, sensors, or thermal detonators. Customers are free to listen to one or thirty-one discs while they're in the store. All one has to do is pick up a disc, open it, put the disc in a discman, and explore to one's heart's content.

The end result for me is that I can fulfill my desire to check out every disc that has an awesome cover, or that was released between 1970-76, or that has anything else intriguing about it. And I'm not tied to a turntable, so I can check out one Roger Dean-graced disc while sifting around for some random Hipgnosis-graced disc......or something I never knew that I never knew about.

Such was the case last week when I found a certain, enigmatic Japanese disc. That state of origin is often an interest-piquer, by itself. The front cover was intriguing, too: a thrice repeated, b&w photo of a Japanese ensemble, of some sort, taken inside a boxing ring. Maybe 20 people, an eclectic bunch, a kind of Warhol factory-style group, with a muscle dude in the upper right, next to someone holding out a tattered American flag. Bottom left, random nude chick and random freak folks in-between. Front center is the apparent leader of this entourage, a youngish-looking guy, in an overcoat, with a briefcase (guitar case? bomb case?) at his feet, kind of looking up at the camera.

Unfortunately, there isn't much English to be found anywhere, to give me any clue as to what I have in my hands. The words "special thanks to" are inside the booklet, as are other cryptic words such as "love & banana." I do see some numbers, however: 1970, '73, '69, '67. Not totally sure if this means what I hope it does, but it could be promising. I keep looking through the booklet and notice that there are, in fact, a few English words on the cover. A slogan. A manifesto, even: "Throw Away The Books Let's Go Into The Streets." Well, the time-period definitely seems confirmed. What this fun bunch is protesting is less clear and it's probably better that way. BUT, I do have my disc player so I can actually hear what this thing sounds like.

And it's a trip. It kicks off with some hard rock riffage, a la Free or early Grand Funk, as played by "Take Your Children Not To Work, But To Form-A-Band Day." Until the the vocals land like a pack of rabid rejects from an Exploding Plastic Inevitable party, shout-singing like early Amon Duul or some punk-hippy, Japanese Slits or Raincoats. The good drugs settle in and the singers then drift into a blissful and peaceful, wordless intonation and drift off ....Only to be jolted by an animated, agitated female voice, presumably on a street corner, presumably protesting or spreaking the thruth, as she sees it, to someone who apparently doesn't get it....when the rabid party rejects jump back in, this time with some different hard rock backing them up. Cut. And that's the first track.

I didn't know what was on the rest of the album. I didn't care. I knew that this disc, whatever it was, was a "piece of interest." What happens to be on the rest of the disc includes shamanistic chants, anthemic ballads, acid jams, hippy rock, hysterical weeping, big ensemble choruses, lots of fuzz, and a concluding monologue: "Sayonara. Sayonara. Sayonara."

If it sounds performative and theatrical, that's because it is. After playing the disc and writing the brief, I did a Google search, using the front cover slogan as my guide and found that the group was called Tokyo Kid Brothers and was, indeed, and dance/performance troupe in the late 60s. Several comparisons have been made to projects such as Hair. Julian Cope gives a typically electrifying and evocative, if unrealistically over-the-top description here. TKB eventually evolved into the just slightly less obscure J.A. Caesar, which carried on the theatrical underpinnings of the original group, but added heavy psychedelia and prog rock as the years went on. Those are stories for another day. Until then, please enjoy these few TKB tracks.