The Shaggs - Philosophy of the World (1969/2000 RCA Victor Remastered Edition)
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Album: The Shaggs - Philosophy of the World
Released: 1969 (2000)
Genre: Psychedelic Rock
Gnosis Rating: 9.51
RCA Victor - 09026 63371-2
This all girl act from 1968-73 may have made the best worst rock album ever and is charmingly awkward from start to finish.This album is chock full out-of-tune guitars and wavering vocals and once you get over the shock there are some stunning songs to be found like "Painful Memories" & "That Little Sports Car".This is the album that breaks the Ice at parties. - Freak Emporium
The Shaggs were an American all-female rock group formed in Fremont, New Hampshire in 1968. The band was composed of sisters Dorothy "Dot" Wiggin (vocals/lead guitar), Betty Wiggin (vocals/rhythm guitar), Helen Wiggin (drums), and later Rachel Wiggin (bass).
The Shaggs were formed by Dot, Betty, and Helen in 1968 on the insistence of their father, Austin Wiggin, who believed that his mother foresaw the band's rise to stardom. The band's only studio album, Philosophy of the World, was released in 1969. The album failed to garner attention, though the band continued to exist as a locally popular live act. The Shaggs disbanded in 1975 after the death of Austin.
As the obscure LP achieved recognition among collectors, the band was praised for their raw, intuitive composition style and lyrical honesty. Philosophy of the World was later reissued, and the compilation Shaggs' Own Thing was released in 1982. The Shaggs are now seen as a groundbreaking outsider music group. - Wikipedia
I have been getting whiny letters from a lot of you lately complaining about the general state of the art. "What is all this shit?" you ask. "We thought New Wave was supposed to be this awakening of New Avenues of Self Expression and Freedom, resulting in new musical verities and new insights into the human condition even! Instead we went out and spent all this money, and all these records are shit!"
You're right about about one thing at least: all those record are shit, and you might as well have burned all those dollar bills. (Closer, 12 bucks, haw haw haw!) But those records aren't shit for the reasons that you think: those records are shit because they're all too good!
That's right. All those stupid bands were so stupid they plumb went out and learned to play their instruments, a process as ineluctable as the putrefaction of a corpse. Teach 'em a chord or two, then just watch those little bastards practice till they can switch off, back and forth between those two chords (then three, then four . . . never shoulda learned even one!) deft as Al DiMeola if he wanted to play that which he probably will soon! Damn!
Which is why the only hope for rock'n'roll, aside from everybody playing nothing but shrieking atonal noise through arbitor distorters, is women. Balls are what ruined both rock and politics in the first place, and I demand the world be turned over to the female sex immediately. Only hope. Valerie Solanas was so much greater a prophet than Warhol that I can only pray she might consent to lead the group I'm forming. The absolute best rock'n'roll anywhere today is being played by women: the other night I saw God in the form of the Au Pairs, the Slits are stupendous, the Raincoats are better than London Calling or anything by Elvis Costello, Chrissie Hynde doesn't count, Joan Jett deserves her place in the sun if not reparations, Lydia Lunch is the Female Role Model for the '80s besides being one of the greatest guitarists in the world . . . the list is endless. (Patti, come home!)
But credit must be given to the foremothers: the Shaggs. Way back in 1972 [sic] they recorded an album up in New England that can stand, I think, easily with Beatles '65, Life with the Lions, Blonde on Blonde, and Teenage Jesus and the Jerks as one of the landmarks of roll'n'roll history. The Wiggins [sic] sisters (an anti-power trio) not only redefined the art but had a coherent Weltanschauung on their very first album, Philosophy of the World. Basically what it comes down to is that unlike the Stones these girls are saying we love you, whether you're fat, skinny, retarded, or Norman Podhoretz even. Paul Weyrich. Don't make no difference, they embrace all because they are true one world humanists with an eye to our social future whose only hope is a redefined communism based on the open-hearted sharing of whatever you got with all sentient beings. Their and my religion is compassion, true Christianity with no guilt factors and no vested interest, perhaps a barter economy, but certainly the elimination of capitalism, rape, and special-interest group hatred. For instance, in their personal favorite number, "My Pal Foot Foot," they reveal how even a little doggie must be granted equal civil rights perhaps even extending to the voting booth. Hell, they let Nancy Reagan in! They also believe that we should jettison almost completely the high-tech society which has now perched us on the lip of global suicide, and return to third world-akin closeness with the earth, elements, nature, the seasons, as in my personal favorite on this album, "It's Halloween," which emphasizes that seasonal festivals are essential to a healthy body politic (why d'ya think all them people in California got no minds?).
Unfortunately the Wiggins's masterpiece was lost over the years - it came out on a small label, and everybody knows the record industry has its head so far up its ass it's licking its breastplate. But this guy from NRBQ had the savvy to rescue it from oblivion (in a recent issue of Rolling Stone, he compared their work to early Ornette Coleman, and he's right, though early Marzette Watts might be more apt), so now we got it out on the Red Rooster label, which of course is a perfect joke on all those closet-queen heavy-metal cockrockers. How do they sound? Perfect! They can't play a lick! But mainly they got the right attitude, which is all rock'n'roll's ever been about from day one. (I mean, not being able to play is never enough.) You should hear the drum riff after the first verse and chorus of the title cut -- sounding like a peg-leg stumbling through a field of bald Uniroyals, it cuts Dave Tough cold and these girls aren't even junkies (of course!). They just whang and blang away while singing in harmonies reminiscent of three Singing Nuns who've been sniffing lighter fluid and their voices are just so copacetic [sic] together (being sisters, after all) you'd almost think they were Siamese triplets. Guitar style: sorta like 14 pocket combs being run through a moose's dorsal, but very gently. Yet it rocks. Does it ever. Plus having one of the greatest album covers in history, best since Blank Generation. God Bless the Shaggs. Now if they will only emerge from (semi?) retirement (?) no one ever will have cause again to say "Rock'n'Roll is dead, man . . ." - "Better Than the Beatles (and DNA, Too)" by Lester Bangs
I'll admit it: You're probably not going to like the Shaggs. And, I’ll tell you why. Because you've got taste and the Shaggs sound terrible. They can't sing in key. They don't know how to play their instruments. The drums rarely, if ever, keep any kind of steady time, and the guitars are consistently and wildly out of tune. Their lyrics are simplistic to the point of being childish; some would call them just plain dumb. Even their biggest fans (Frank Zappa claimed they were better than the Beatles; Lester Bangs called their record "a landmark in rock ‘n’ roll history"; Rolling Stone once declared them “Comeback of the Year”) have to admit that the Shaggs are one of the least musically talented ensembles in the history of rock. It's hard to deny that, when it comes to musical virtuosity, the Shaggs make Sid Vicious look like the guy from Shine. But just because you don't know what you're doing doesn't mean you can't make music that's fun to listen to-and there's no better proof of that than Philosophy of the World.
The Shaggs were Betty, Dot, and Helen Wiggin-three poor, home-schooled, New Hampshire sisters who were pushed into taking music lessons (yes, they actually took lessons) by their overbearing father, Austin. It was his idea for the girls to form a band, and once they had a few songs sketched out, it was Austin who drove them to Massachusetts and paid to have them record Philosophy of the World. The session was a disaster. The recording engineers were baffled by the girls', um, unconventional approach, and the man who had agreed to release the album ended up disappearing with nearly all of the 1,000 copies they had pressed. At the end of what their father had imagined would be their big break, the girls were left record-less, talent-less, and even poorer than before. Thankfully, in a bit of a pop music miracle, one of those few remaining copies ended up in the right hands (a Boston area radio station) and the Shaggs were saved from obscurity.
Of course, the band's unlikely story adds to the fun of listening to their record. But there are plenty of bands who have great stories and no talent and whose records aren't any fun to listen to at all. In the end, the music on Philosophy of the World speaks for itself. Behind all that dissonant caterwauling, these songs are actually remarkably poppy and weirdly catchy. And with every listen, as you become increasingly familiar with each bizarre turn in their songwriting, it matters less and less that the guitar part doesn't match the drums, or that the vocals aren't in key. Those childish lyrics, upon closer inspection, offer up pearls of simple-minded, teenaged wisdom ("Oh, the rich people want what the poor people's got," Dot sings in the chorus of the title track, "and the poor people want what the rich people's got").
The lyrics are a reflection of the band's unquestionable sincerity-think what you will of their ability, it's clear that every song is honest and heartfelt. The Wiggin sisters might not have had a lot of talent to pour into their record, but everything they did have they gave. And that supplies their songs with a strange brew of off-kilter, poor-white-girl soul.
The Shaggs are definitely not for everybody, but that's to be expected. Their father may have dreamed of stardom, but the girls were skeptical, ultimately playing for themselves and for their father and for fun. When it came to their instruments, they were oblivious and naive and they played with all the reckless abandon of 12-year-olds in their parents' basement, strumming away on their first beat-up, hand-me-down guitar. And so that's what you'll find behind all the messy chords and random time signatures that make up Philosophy of the World: The crude, rudimentary, unfiltered joy of playing music. - Adam Bunch
When Austin Wiggin, Jr. and his teenage daughters Dorothy, Betty, and Helen drove from their home in Fremont, New Hampshire to a recording studio in Revere, Mass. one day in the late 1960s, none of the participants could have guessed at the events that were to transpire as a result of the music recorded that day. The girls hadn't been playing very long and were uncertain of their abilities. Upon hearing the three sisters play, the recording engineer suggested to Austin that perhaps the girls weren't quite ready to record. But Austin Wiggin, Jr., a true visionary, was intent on capturing the moment. "I want to get them while they're hot," he reportedly said.
The music recorded that day was indeed hot, and Austin paid a local entrepeneur to release Philosophy Of The World by the Shaggs on the Third World label. The "entrepeneur," however, dissapeared with Austin's money and most of the albums that had been manufactured. If ever a record was doomed to obscurity, this one seemed to be it.
What copies of Philosophy Of The World did survive miraculously found themselves into the right hands. WBCN-FM in Boston played selections from Philosophy several times; local musicians like Andy Paley discovered the record and began championing the Shaggs; someone at WBCN played Philosophy for Frank Zappa, who was quite taken with it; and finally tenor saxophonist and composed Keith Spring, then playing with the Whole Wheat Horns, an adjunct to the legendary adventurous NRBQ, played a tape of the Shaggs for the rest of NRBQ. Shortly thereafter arrangements were made to reissue Philosophy Of The World on NRBQ's own Red Rooster label, distributed by Rounder Records.
Perhaps no album, either prior to or since, has generated as intense a reaction as Philosophy Of The World did upon its reissue. Most critics loved it, although their reasons varied greatly. Some thought the Shaggs were a joke, or some elaborate hoax. Debra Rae Cohen in Rolling Stone (which cited the Shaggs as the Comeback of the Year band in their 1980 Rock and Roll Awards) said, "I'd call Philosophy Of The World a work of primitive American genius but I'm too busy rolling on the floor." Others took the Shaggs more seriously. Bruce D. Rhodewalt in L.A. Weekly said, "If we can judge music on the basis of its honesty, originality and impact, then the Shaggs' Philosophy Of The World is the greatest record ever recorded in the history of the universe." And OP magazine said, "The Shaggs integrity and purity of vision shine through like a 50,000-watt lighthouse on a stormy night. Listen to this record. It will change your life."
It's easy to see how someone could have been confounded by this wonderful music. Here were three teens playing instruments we've heard countless times, but this time with none of the familiar signposts--none of the standard rhythms or chord progressions we've come to recognize and, yes, even expect. On the other hand, listening to this music without perceptions or expectations reveals a refreshingly playful, yet decidedly structured sound with its own complex inner logic. "I have yet to play a Shaggs cut for a professional musician who didn't roll his eyes and whisper, 'Where can I get this record?'," said Dan Forte in The Record, and no wonder.
This compact disc, which collects all previously issued Shaggs material and two new items, offers the listener--whether familiar or new to this music--the best-ever opportunity to appreciate the Shaggs. For one thing, the music itself has never sounded as good as it does here. Not suprisingly, the original Third World release of Philosophy was neither mixed nor mastered in the most highly attentive fashion. And since the original master tapes were believed to have been stolen from the Wiggin residence, the Red Rooster/Rounder reissue had to be painstakingly transferred from a clean copy of the original release. Recently, however, Terry Adams of NRBQ was speaking to Dot Wiggin on the phone when she mentioned that she had come across some "big tapes" while going through a closet in her home. It was soon discovered that the "big tapes" included the original multitrack recordings of Philosophy Of The World.
Now newly mixed and mastered, with errors in pitch and speed finally corrected, and aided by the full-range, compression-free compact disc medium, this definitive version of Philosophy reveals a cleaner, yet wonderfully bracing quality that will suprise even those already familiar with its contents. Each instrument has a spatial and sonic heft to it, and there are other surprises as well. A bass guitar, omitted from the original mix of "That Little Sports Car," has been restored, adding a whole new dimension to that song. Also heard for the first time is a pre-take run-through of "Who Are Parents."
This CD will also give listeners another chance to evaluate the somewhat less-heralded Shaggs Own Thing, which contains material recorded after Philosophy that was compiled and released after that record's triumphant reissue. Perhaps both the slightly less abstract quality of these later compositions, and the fact that the Shaggs were presenting their own unique interpretations of other people's songs, confused those who were expecting a carbon copy of Philosophy. For me, Shaggs Own Thing reveals these remarkable youngsters, this time aided by youngest sister Rachel on bass (with guest appearances by brother Bob and Austin Wiggin, Jr.), relentlessly pursuing their refreshingly unaffected artistic vision with sincerity and creativity. Especially delightful is the mature, almost sensuous remake of "My Pal Foot Foot"; Dorothy Wiggin's exquisite adolescent reverie, "My Cutie"; and Betty Wiggin's only known composition, "Painful Memories," which Dorothy embellishes with some inspired whammy bar chording. And there's also a previously unreleased original composition, "Love At First Sight."
The Shaggs originated almost twenty years ago. As mass media increasingly permeates our society with a sameness that is frightening, it seems unlikely that another band of this kind of quality and originality will ever come along again. Or maybe in some distant country, as you read this, a proud father is giving his daughters (or sons) instruments and is exhorting them--in whatever language--to "do your own thing." Whatever the case, the Shaggs did their own thing and we have an eloquent reminder in these awe-inspiring recordings. - CD Notes
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