Summary.
Jad Fair's Half Japanese were
the most extreme case of noise-rock. They
debuted with one of the most inept, clumsy, childish, lo-fi and
indecipherable works of all time, the 50-song triple album
1/2 Gentlemen Not Beasts (1980), that both Dada and
Captain Beefheart would be proud of, and followed it up with
the more cohesive Loud (1981), but still in the spirit of
demented, atonal, vehement and highly fragmented rock'n'roll.
The frenzy was "punk", but everything else was still nameless.
Fair changed course with Sing No Evil (1985),
an album that was infinitely more musical than the previous ones,
played by 13 professional musicians and boasting real melodies, rhythms
and arrangements. Unfortunately, in the process of becoming a real musician,
Fair lost the charm of the early anarchic years, but remained one of the
pioneers of "lo-fi pop",
as he proved when, for example, he refounded the "spoken word" genre with
the 64-minute title-track of Heaven Sent (1997).
Full bio.
(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)
Jad Fair was for a quarter of a century one of the most original (and prolific) protagonists of the American underground. Coming out into the open in the very early years of the New Wave, his only flaw was of being an isolated genius, isolated both from intellectuals and from punk rockers.
Formed in 1975 in Michigan by brothers Jad and David Fair, Half Japanese were born under the banner of musical illiteracy: all members were "forbidden" from learning to play their own instrument.
Two years later the Fair family moved to Maryland and, after the release of the singles Calling All Girls (50 Skid Watts, 1977) and Mono/No No (idem, 1978), the brothers thought it wise to collect the best of their home recordings in a triple album. Thus was born the triple album 1/2 Gentlemen Not Beasts (Armageddon, 1980), a historic monument of "lo-fi" music that anticipated by twenty years one of the most important movements of the end of the century. The record contains fifty short sketches that in fact constitute a self-portrait of Jad Fair. Although the boys did everything they could to sound crazy and irreverent, between the lines of Hurt So Bad, No More Beatlemania, Her Parents Came Home, No Direct Line From My Brain To My Heart hides a first-rate songwriter.
The sound, torn between the intellectualism of late progressive rock and the neurasthenia of early punk, is absolutely uncoordinated, performed under the banner of the most absurd Dadaism (titles like Tu tu tu tu ki and Bbbbbb/Bbbbb/Bbbbbb) and played with the verve of Captain Beefheart. The pieces are nothing but schizoid abstractions, in which heavy metal barrages and free-jazz solos can blend marvelously. Du Du Du Du Du (a full seven minutes) is anything but a tune to whistle: it is the musical equivalent of Beckett’s "Waiting for Godot" (absolutely nothing happens). Everything (literally everything) can be used to make music, in defiance of dogmas and sales charts.
After the EP Spy (Armageddon, 1981), a Doors cover, and the flexi with Heart and No Danger (Take It, 1981), came the second album, Loud (Armageddon, 1981 – Drag City, 2004), featuring a six-piece lineup and no fewer than twenty-one tracks. This record, equally chaotic but far more concise and mature, will perhaps remain their masterpiece. The atonality and fragmentation that had been the hallmark of punk’s anguish are sublimated here into nervous outbursts as brief as they are disconnected.
The vehement guitar assault, tribal drumming, cascades of horns, deafening volume, detachment of the musicians, absence of understandable riffs and choruses, and obsessive repetitiveness coin a new definition of “cool” music for intellectuals—closer to the surrealism of Captain Beefheart, the prankishness of the Fugs, the wreckage of the MC5, the free-jazz theatrics of Albert Ayler, and the most psychotic psychedelia than to highbrow avant-garde.
The raucous dissonances of Scientific Devices, the neurasthenic and tribal jazz of Love Lasts Forever and My Concentration, the out-of-tune fanfare of Hearts, the visceral rhythm and blues of I Know How It Feels, the smoky nightclub be-bop of Spy, the vitriolic guitar blues of High School, the armored heavy metal of Nurse and Baby Wants Music (featuring some of the most ungainly vocals in the history of music), the degraded ramalama of If My Father Answers, and the frenzied “total” jam of New Brides Of Frankenstein, with minimalist horns and machine-gun drumming, are all parades of utterly irrational sonic excess.
Many of these tracks are, in their own way, masterpieces, despite their repellent concision: New Brides, Spy, I Know, Baby, High School, Nurse. In its convulsive yet articulate and brilliant unfolding, the album recalls another masterpiece of naïve primitivism: Safe As Milk.
(Original English text by Piero Scaruffi)
After the gothic parenthesis of the EP Horrible (Press, 1983),
with Thing With A Hook, and the live
cassette 100000000000 Watts (Calypso Now, 1984),
the band released a radical album, dedicated to the
Velvet Underground but enhanced by psychedelic guitar and rhythm and blues
saxophone,
Our Solar System (Iridescence, 1984 - Drag City, 2000).
Each song is played by a different line-up, from the standard rock trio up
to small chamber ensembles.
The music is still fragmented and casually played, but shows progress towards
mental sanity. The pounding instrumental voodoobilly
Dance When I Say Dance is the highlight, but
David Fair contributes a Bo Diddley ripoff
(Girl Athletes), a Rolling Stones ripoff (Fire To Burn)
and the dreamy, dissonant ESP. This is mostly David's album.
Sing No Evil (Iridescence, 1985 - Drag City, 2000) is their second
milestone, an album that is infinitely more musical than previous ones,
played by 13 professional musicians and boasting real melodies, rhythms
and arrangements.
Firecracker Firecracker is one of those
Fleshtones' monster themes, coupled with
Jonh Lee Hooker's boogie, a New Orleans marching band and
an Indian pow-wow.
Velvet Underground's pounding White Light White Heat forms the foundation
for On The One Hand, while free-jazz horns embellish the surface.
Nicole Told Me is garage-rock propelled by a killer bass line over
rapid-fire strumming and drumming and a demented bacchanal of horns.
Fleshtones' epic sax-driven, bouncing melodies permeate several other tracks,
in particular Too Bad About Elizabeth.
These songs rank among Fair's masterpieces. They display his mad and witty
genius better than any symphony.
Fair can't resist spreading thin with Acupuncture, a ripoff from
Exile-era Rolling Stones , Sing No Evil, a
comic avantgarde sketch, and
Double Trouble,
a return to the amateurish frenzy of the beginnings.
But overall Fair is in great shape, and not afraid to play music, for a change.
(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)
The most musical phase of Half Japanese continued with the album Music To Strip By (50 Skidillion Watts, 1987). The presence of Kramer alongside Jad Fair (brother David is absent) is strongly felt: the sound becomes more professional while at the same time leaning toward 1960s garage rock, with Stripping For Cash, My Sordid Past, Salt And Pepper, and especially Colleen imitating the 13th Floor Elevators and the Amboy Dukes (stealing riffs from Baby Please Don’t Go and How Many More Times).
But Fair’s strength became the country ballad, solemn and martial (Big Mistake, The Last Straw), sung and played in a tone halfway between serious and facetious, culminating in a true anthem with the single U.S. Teens Are Spoiled Bums. The Price Was Right, a crackling blues in the style of the Magic Band, and Diary, a depressed cocktail-lounge jazz number, are centrifugal episodes. In many ways, this is Fair’s classic work, the one in which the research begun with 1/2 Gentlemen reaches its culmination.
Starting with
that recording Half Japanese began an awkward run towards accessibility.
David Fair and Don Fleming help Jad on Charmed Life (50 Skidillion Watts, 1988), an album already recorded in 1985, which had by then left behind the primitivist cacophony of the early years and stubbornly attempted the path of the “song” (succeeding at least with Penny In The Fountain, Miracles Happen Every Day, and especially with the triptych Charmed Life, Red Dress, One Million Kisses).
The Band That Would Be King (50 Skidillion Watts, 1989) loses all charm and bite. That album is at once the most ambitious and the least polished work of Fair’s career, despite the stellar contributions of his usual collaborators (arranger Kramer and guitarist Don Fleming). Some Things Last A Long Time and Postcard From Far Away are the last (minor) classics of a “masthead” that wrote some of the quirkiest pages in the history of rock.
Half Japanese represent a rare kind of infantilist “free music,” a heterogeneous whim that in spirit recalls the earliest Canterbury experiments and in practice the Velvet Underground regressed to a childlike state. It stems from a cross between the culture of dada-jazz aphorisms of Trout Mask Replica
(Captain Beefheart)
and Weasels Ripped My Flesh
(Frank Zappa),
the asylum-grade primitivism of a
Wild Man Fischer , and the hyper-alienation of
Teenage Jesus.
A sort of exclusive club of playful and chaotic avant-gardists formed
around the group, a club eager to recombine in every possible configuration, including the dance-oriented Orthotonics and the supergroup Between Meals, creators of Oh No I Just Knocked Over A Cup Of Coffee (Iridescence, 1983). The EP Real Cool Time/ What Can I Do/ Monopoly (Overzealous, 1989) provides a fitting close to this period.
Meanwhile, Jad Fair’s solo career—lyricist, singer, and the true mastermind of the operation, which had actually begun in 1980 with the EP The Zombies Of Mora-Tau (Press)—offered even greater highlights. The dadaist alter ego of the “half Japanese” was revealed in 1983 with the album Everyone Knew... But Me (Press, 1983), a sort of autobiographical rock opera about his own romantic troubles. In this collection of 29 absurdist pieces, childlike ditties, and random noises à la Wild Man Fisher, his amateurish exhibitionism reaches its peak.
As is often the case with extreme modesty and extreme sincerity, the result is a tender and fragile work, revealing a lost and insecure persona when he hiccups through the ballad Amy, shouts drunkenly in Walking With Cindy, pleads in I'm Gonna Come Back To You, and sings off-key in All My Love and Mil Mascaras. Outside this mood of sorrowful soliloquy lie puppet- and cartoon-like sketches (Fish Can Talk, Monster Island, Snake On My Head).
From a strictly musical standpoint, Best Wishes (Incandescence, 1987), recorded between 1982 and 1985, is his finest work, an instrumental masterpiece featuring 42 electronic aphorisms that traverse the entire musical spectrum, from minimalism to industrial, from jazz to ambient. Fair infuses it with his eccentric and unorthodox humor, often using the form of a fanfare. In this vast and immense collection of timbres, rhythms, and harmonic ideas, there is not a single fully developed track, yet it embodies a philosophy of making music with minimal means and no ambition—a philosophy that is, in fact, the ultimate essence of all of Fair’s art.
Jad Fair recorded Roll Out The Barrel (Shimmy Disc, 1988) with
Mark Kramer, an album which, thanks to his partner’s control (and the accompanying musicians he brought along, from Fleming to Licht), returns to a more balanced style. While Cheerleader Wild Weekend and California are the most accessible compositions, the most interesting moments are perhaps Fair’s soliloquies: he delivers lines like the most alienated Woody Allen on Double For Me, Den Of Angels, Blind Hope, and Best Left Unsaid, surrounded by effects that manage to construct a song where it would technically be impossible. The album is limited only by the fact that half of it consists of covers.
Two years later,
Fair and Kramer recorded also the less inspired
The Sound Of Music (Shimmy Disc, 1990), on which Kramer composed all the music.
A collaboration with
Daniel Johnston yielded in
1989 an untitled album (issued by
50 Skidillion Watts) which united the two
the two solipsists par excellence of alternative rock
in a double childhood regression.
Johnston leaves his mark on the sparse and quirky narratives of I Met Roky Erickson, I Did Acid With Caroline, and What I've Seen. In contrast, the sense of introversion and insecurity from Everybody Knew is echoed in the childlike sing-song of Summertime, written by Fair, while in his cartoonish world lives the comic Frankenstein Conquers The World. The two least celebrated storytellers of modern folk create a lot of confusion and produce little music.
Fair is the undisputed guru of dada-punk, the greatest heir of the street lunatics who sing accompanied by a detuned guitar in the middle of deserted squares.
The new lineup of Half Japanese revolves around David Fair under the pseudonym Coo Coo Rockin Time and records in 1990 the album Coo Coo Party Time, dedicated to the music of the past.
Jad Fair returns to a completely solo album with I Like It When You Smile (Paperhouse, 1992) and then embarks on a collaboration with the Pastels, for whom he transforms into an old-style crooner. Fair, however, seems to have already given the best of himself.
Greater Expectations (Bad Alchemy, 1991), boasting 45 songs, is an extension of this program of radical "minimalism." Fair is at once the heir of street minstrels (Hillbillies) and the heir of futurist avant-gardists (in the instrumental ballets inspired by industrial music). Yet his zany approach often prevails, resulting in monstrous chaos (Pajamas and the many dissonant raps), which, according to punk ethos, unfolds within one or two minutes. When he wants, Fair can actually write catchy, rhythmic songs: Tracks Of My Tears is stripped to the bare essentials, but Outlaw Blues, one of his masterpieces, only needs tambourine and harmony (in the glorious tradition of David Peel). The album also features delightful vocal gags, including a parody of a drunken French singer, Eiffel Tower. The album contains a large bestiary paying homage to elephants, whales, lions, snakes, as well as a gallery of culinary-themed tracks. (Note: the track listing on the CD is entirely incorrect).
Meanwhile, Half Japanese released the (mediocre) album We Are They Who Ache With Amorous Love (Ralph, 1990), packed with covers, the single T For Texas/ Go Go Go Go (Xxoo Fan Club, 1990), the single Twang 1 (Seminal Twang, 1991), the cassette 4 Four Kids (Ralph, 1991), and finally the album Fire In The Sky (Paperhouse, 1992), a much more polished and organized collection, also thanks to the contributions of Don Fleming, Jason Willett, and Gilles Rieder. The thirteen-minute Always summarizes the subcultural themes of his lyrics, from UFOs to punk rock. Drum Straight and the single Eye Of The Hurricane are two of his funniest compositions. Half Japanese seemed to end with the single Postcard (Earl, 1993) and the Greatest Hits (Safe House, 1995), as Fair was increasingly busy with other projects.
Jad Fair also appears under the pseudonym Jad & Nao, credited with Half RObot (Paperhouse, 1993), a collection of 75 very short pieces that hark back to Half Japanese’s debut album.
Willett and Rieder were also co-credited with Jad Fair on an untitled album (Magaphone, 1995) containing short instrumental tracks mostly dedicated to films.
Under his own name, Fair released a 7" EP, Short Songs (Smells Like, 1993), containing ten pieces, naturally of the briefest possible length. It is the apotheosis of his infantilism.
Fair recorded with the band
Mosquito (Steve Shelley of Sonic Youth on drums,
Tom Foljahn on guitar)
an EP with Down, a split single with Where's Tim, the mini-album
Oh No Not Another Mosquito (Psycho Acoustic Sounds, 1993) and the albums
Time Was (ERL, 1993) and UFO Catcher (Timebomb, 1993).
On the album Oh No Fair spares no vocal paradoxes (Lost Bird, Why Don't I), well supported by a "progressive" ensemble (Bumpy House Boogie).
Jad released with his brother David the album Best Friends (Vesuvius, 1996), thirty tracks recorded at home with out-of-tune guitars; and with Jason Willett he made It's All Good (Megaphone, 1996), no less wild and abstruse.
For Hot (Safe House, 1995), Jad Fair dusted off the Half Japanese project and assembled a full rock band, perhaps the first of his career.
Not only that: it is the band, not Fair, that composes all the music.
Fair limits himself to writing the lyrics and singing them. The sound is thus rooted in the wildest garage rock, with touches of Velvet Underground and new wave. The album actually opens with Drum Straight, a frenzied, epileptic-paced raid in the chaotic style of Chrome. Epic riff-laden rock and roll follows in Well and Black Fruit, as well as the intergalactic pow-wow of Dark Night. Fair dabbles in the grand guignol of Vampire, but the band continuously brings him back on track. It is the most musical album of his career, but perhaps also the one that feels least like his own.
Fair released with the Shadowy Men the single In A Haunted House (Derivative), another caricature of horror, and with Steve Shelley of Sonic Youth the fourth album in the Mosquito series, Cupid's Fist (Red Note, 1994), in the spirit of early-century blues and country.
On Bone Head (Alternative Tentacles, 1997) Fair once again resurrects the Half Japanese name, but in reality he limits himself to narrating his stories over the music of John Sluggett and Gilles Rieder. The music, however, is first-rate, ranging from the Southern boogie of Monkey Hand to the dissonant disco of Sometimes. Fair babbles in the wind, imitating Lou Reed in the fatalism of A Night Like This and Patti Smith in the delirium of Zombie Eye. He perhaps shines most in the most unlikely song, the love ode Song Of Joy. Since Fair is not much of a poet, the project proves entirely superfluous—but so are the thirty albums that preceded it. As always, many tracks are tiny (twenty-one in total), and for some it’s hard to tell what they were meant to be. Fair is an approximate genius, but a genius nonetheless.
Despite the austere diligence with which he pursues the new course of Half Japanese, Fair is still engaged in countless collaborations. With DQE (aka Grace Braun), he recorded an album (Dark Beloved Cloud, 1996), featuring gaffes like Alice Friday, and with Shapir-O'Rama he recorded We Are The Rage (Avant, 1997), one of the most experimental works of this period.
A full 64 of the 73 minutes of Heaven Sent (Emperor Jones, 1997) are devoted to the opening track, the title track, which thus officially becomes the longest rock song of all time. Jad Fair recites it with Lou Reed-like nonchalance, over a light instrumental backing from his band (credited with the music, as on the two previous albums). Fair’s vocal tour de force continues without major events: a slowly morphing guitar distortion, a lanky bass-and-drum rhythm, and occasional bursts of voices and “found” sounds (perhaps as a sort of chorus) or a whisper of electronics. It is the perfect landscape to stage this crazy soliloquy and to maximize Fair’s disenchanted tone. Twenty minutes from the end, the jamming takes shape, and in the last fifteen minutes he allows himself some poetic license. The result is truly astonishing: Fair never falters, and the gradual coalescence of the instrumental improvisation has a charm that perfectly complements the narrative. The album redefines the “spoken word” genre. The other nine tracks? Don’t get your hopes up: they are all remixes (about a minute each) of the same song. It was hard to do, but Fair managed to surpass himself in sheer bizarreness.
Some of Half Japanese's classics are: King Kong, Movin' On Up, Firecracker, Love At First Sight,
Horseshoes,
That Could Be The Night.
Fair’s works were enough to keep a music critic busy full-time, and they were absorbed by the underground scene rather slowly, but they often were influential as well as innovative.
Heir to the street eccentrics who sang while playing out-of-tune guitars in empty squares, Jad Fair, the isolated genius from Maryland, was the most authentic representative of the “do it yourself” spirit that emerged with the new wave and somewhat symbolizes the banner of alternative rock. His register (a sort of Gordon Gano without musical knowledge or Jonathan Richman without parody) is a register of panic, expressing the terror of living of the average adolescent of his generation.
Sing Your Little Babies To Sleep (Ubik, 1998) is a children’s album created by the two Fair brothers: 26 tracks, each titled after a letter of the alphabet and dedicated to a corresponding monster.
(Original English text by Piero Scaruffi)
Strange But True (Matador, 1999), recorded with
Yo La Tengo,
contains 22 brief aphorisms inspired by absurd tabloid headlines.
It is not unusual that Jad Fair is at his best when he is at his most
frivolous.
Enjoyable Songs (Alternative Tentacles, 1999) is a collaboration with
drummer and keyboardist Jason Willett that bridges Jad Fair's artsier,
noisier music with his more song-oriented output. The album is a worthy
follow-up of 1996's It's All Good.
On the other hand,
Half Japanese's Hello (Alternative Tentacles, 2001) is a massive
disappointment.
Jad Fair now plays lo-fi pop in the vein of
Guided By Voices but drenched in
Velvet Underground's hypnotic ragas. His songs are harmless fairy tales
that hardly possess the demonic frenzy of his early works.
The Lucky Sperms (Jagjaguwar, 2001) is a new collaboration with
Daniel Johnston.
Words of Wisdom (Alternative Tentacles, 2002)
is a collaboration with Teenage Fanclub.
The Monarchs
is a super-group with Jad Fair and friends mainly from Birdsongs Of Mesozoic
(keyboardists Erik Lindgren and Rock Scott, guitarists Roger Miller, Glenn Jones
and Martin Swope, etc)
Honey Bee (recorded between 1995 and 1997) and
The Mighty Hypnotic Eye are lo-fi collaborations between
Jad Fair and Jason Willett.
Superfine (Public Eyesore, 2003) is the third collaboration between Jad Fair and Jason Willett, but Fair is only the singer for Willett's songs. And it's
a 155-song collection. But quantity does not mean quality: it is one of the worst ever assembled.