HARRY MERRY

Village life in 1905 / football-match

7”, Olé

Whoa, hold the horses young gentleman. This dude is definitely a little worried about the state of art, or so they say. I can see that in the look on his face on the cover of this little jewel. And being looked at is what makes us alive, or so Jean Paul Sartre said. Or simply he is just overdosed on the complete Pebbles-series distilled into a nice hot cup of coffee served at a Sunday morning brunch on the Eastbourne seaside. Or rather, Zandvort. The Sixties Beat-scene had a fine affiliation with the notion of delicate aristocracy from the late 19^th century and the superior lifestyle.

Which brings us finely into the title track of this record: “narrow streets with small houses / Orange clocks, white skirts, black trousers / the draw bridge to pull or drop / next to the baker’s shop / blossoming crop / are such an advantage / in small Dutch village.” The lyrics are full with romantic notions such as this. The side hint at the legendary Pithead-punkrock-café in the last verse I’ll leave aside. The melody is, well, it has a feeling of both baroque and acid beat. The Apostolic Intervention or Incredible String Band high on crack crooning to themselves and a mistuned e-piano. Something along those lines.

The backing song has an even more distorted e-piano and various voices singing at once. And it is the poetical recount of a football match between Holland and England. I’d guess a legendary one. The song twirls and twists, bounces and rebounds in unfathomable directions. It is impossible to describe it (and almost impossible to listen to), which is quite a feat in itself.

In almost every country or urban conglomerate there will be at least one guy deeply involved in his own world, producing music that is only dependent on his very own standards and visions. And this person will usually be regarded as either a misunderstood musical genius or a weirdo. Or both, coming to think of it. Sometimes because they are in some way actually diagnosed as mentally ill, like Wesley Willis or (parts of) The Reynols. Others just because they act and life way different to regular people (and haven't been to the doctor yet, the cynic adds) like Bobby Conn or Ariel Pink or the Viennese Superfred (an unbelievable impostor of Freddy Mercury. There seems to be a strange fascination of Austrian musicians for Queen, when counting Queens of Japan in on the score.) But they are much more than that. They are a release for musical ideas that have never been tried out because serious musicians would scorn at them because they are afraid what their friends might say, and so an artistic block arises. And they are a release for tension within the audience, because being confronted with such a completely different mindset doesn’t result in aggression or hatred (as being confronted with unknown or alien things usually does) but in humorous release of tension and the experience of tolerance. Very important. I am able to feel with him, because I am obviously building my own musical universe here as well, even if as a listener and not as a musician.

The music is crazy. Far off from the "usual" avantrock (what a self-contradictory construction here) of, let's say, Animal Collective or Encre, the drugged noise of Monno or Black Dice. Far off from everything, actually. There is another album on Olé-records and another one on Tocado records out by Harry Merry, but somehow I am too afraid to get down to them. Well, maybe I will.