Fred Lane - From The One That Cut You (1983)

Opasnost je moje pivo, razgovaram sa svojom frizurom, stihovi su čovjeka koji je osobno ubio jazz.
Za velečasnog Freda Lanea kažu da je ili ludi genijalac ili psihijatrijski slučaj. Sa svojim psihopatskim swing bendom stvorio je nadrealno-dadaističko-shizofrenu špijunsku muziku koja će vas vječno držati u stanju nevjerice.


www.fredlanedoc.com/

 

Fred Lane & Ron 'Pate's Debonairs
From The One That Cut You

 

Fred Lane & his Hittite Hotshots
Car Radio Jerome (1986)

"If jazz is dead, it’s because Fred Lane personally killed it."

"As a radio station music director in the late 80’s, a record came across my desk that changed my life. It was called “Car Radio Jerome” by Rev. Fred Lane & His Hittite Hotshots. I simply didn’t know what to make of it, but I knew that I liked it and had never heard anything quite like it before.
The album ran the gamut of styles I wasn’t expecting to hear, from Sinatra-ish big band swinging (White Woman, Upper Lip Of A Nostril Man), to spaghetti western soundtrack anthems (The Man With The Foldback Ears), to depressing country ballads (Pneumatic Eyes), and even something that sounded like a kids record but for kids with demented parents (The French Toast Man). The artwork, the band musicians' names, and even the technical description of the album’s pressing included on the cover all led me to blissful confusion. I wasn’t sure if it was a comedy album, and if so, just who did Fred Lane think his audience was? This was comedy that was sure to go over most peoples heads. I wasn’t even sure if I “got it”. But at the same time, these were very well-written and arranged songs, played with a lot of feeling by what sounded like a group of questionably-competent musicians. In fact, some of the playing is so hysterically bad on the album, that I couldn’t believe anyone would seriously release it. I’m no stranger to music that’s “so bad it’s good”, but this was something different - this WAS good... period.
Not long after, another Fred Lane album showed up on my desk, “From The One That Cut You”, this time released under the name Fred Lane with Ron ‘Pate’s Debonairs. This album was even stranger than the other one, with song titles like Fun In The Fundas, Danger Is My Beer, I Talk To My Haircut and Meat Clamp Conduit. According to the album’s liner notes, the music came from a live musical stage production, a promo poster from which was tucked inside the jacket sleeve."

"The music itself is mostly swing but draws upon ridiculous modern country, fifties rock, hokey children’s records, and Mancini “spy” music, too – all sprinkled with some of the wildest free improvisation ever preserved on tape. In this case it’s a weirder combination than usual considering most serious disciples of the freer stuff (which applies for members of the Hotshots and Lane’s former backup band, Ron ‘Pate and the Debonairs) are typically rooted in bebop and the European avant-garde, maybe even rock, but they don’t normally go for swing. It’s too cheesy, too sleazy and schmaltzy compared to the sincere spiritual journeys of a John Coltrane or an Albert Ayler. Perfect for Fred Lane, though, and that’s why his songs are so original anyway. “I like to think of them as something I stained my shirt with,” Lane said. You stick to what’s acceptable listening in your scene, what you’re told to like by critic jerks like me, and you end up making the same old (new) music. Obeying the conventions of Free Jazz – imagine that!" - direct-waves.blogspot.com/


I have no idea what this is all about but I can tell you this:  The Reverend Fred Lane is either a mad genius or in need of serious psychiatric medication. His album From the One That Cut You is loaded with dada/surreal/ schizophrenic lyrics sung over equally unstable and psychotic R&B music. Just look at the cover alone:  the crazy writing, band-aids, dinosaur glasses, and handlebar mustache. Hear the madness for yourself.  Here’s I Talk to My Haircut. - Steve Smith

As a radio station music director in the late 80’s, a record came across my desk that changed my life. It was called “Car Radio Jerome” by Rev. Fred Lane & His Hittite Hotshots. I simply didn’t know what to make of it, but I knew that I liked it and had never heard anything quite like it before.
The album ran the gamut of styles I wasn’t expecting to hear, from Sinatra-ish big band swinging (White Woman, Upper Lip Of A Nostril Man), to spaghetti western soundtrack anthems (The Man With The Foldback Ears), to depressing country ballads (Pneumatic Eyes), and even something that sounded like a kids record but for kids with demented parents (The French Toast Man). The artwork, the band musicians' names, and even the technical description of the album’s pressing included on the cover all led me to blissful confusion. I wasn’t sure if it was a comedy album, and if so, just who did Fred Lane think his audience was? This was comedy that was sure to go over most peoples heads. I wasn’t even sure if I “got it”. But at the same time, these were very well-written and arranged songs, played with a lot of feeling by what sounded like a group of questionably-competent musicians. In fact, some of the playing is so hysterically bad on the album, that I couldn’t believe anyone would seriously release it. I’m no stranger to music that’s “so bad it’s good”, but this was something different - this WAS good... period.
Not long after, another Fred Lane album showed up on my desk, “From The One That Cut You”, this time released under the name Fred Lane with Ron ‘Pate’s Debonairs. This album was even stranger than the other one, with song titles like Fun In The Fundas, Danger Is My Beer, I Talk To My Haircut and Meat Clamp Conduit. According to the album’s liner notes, the music came from a live musical stage production, a promo poster from which was tucked inside the jacket sleeve.
My curiosity was piqued. Who was Fred Lane? Where did this come from? Thus began my search to find out all I could about Fred Lane. About the only information I was able to come up with was that NYC’s Shimmy Disc Records was intent on bringing Fred Lane to peoples attention by re-releasing the Fred Lane catalog: first with Car Radio Jerome (originally released in 1986), and then From The One That Cut You (originally released in 1983). Apparently there were plans to release two more: Raudelunas ‘Pataphysical Revue Starring Ron ‘Pate’s Debonairs Featuring Rev. Fred Lane (originally released in 1975), and a brand new album called Icepick To The Moon, but Shimmy Disc never released either album and would not release any information about Fred Lane except to say that “he wishes his true identity kept under wraps”.
That didn’t stop me. For years I continued trying to find out all I could about Fred Lane. With the rise of the Internet’s popularity in the late 90’s, I began searching for any mention of Fred Lane, and as a result, found a few fan pages that mostly repeated all the same information I already knew. But while researching a potential documentary film about Outsider Music and Visionary Pop Musicians, I stumbled upon Stewart Russell’s website, The ‘Pataphysical World of Fred Lane And Friends. Stewart is a Fred Lane fan from Glasgow, Scotland (now relocated to Toronto, Canada) who somehow managed to track down Fred Lane himself, as well as many of Lane’s old bandmates. Thanks to Stewart, I have found answers to many of my Fred Lane questions, and have been able to contact those involved in order to make a documentary about it.
I don’t want to go into too much detail here since most of the details are already available on other websites, but suffice it to say, there is a lot more to the Fred Lane story than I expected, and it’s an interesting story I intend to tell in my documentary. Many of the cast have gone on to interesting and impressive careers and they all consider their Raudelunas years to have been an important springboard to what they're doing now.- www.fredlanedoc.com/

I can still remember the day Car Radio Jerome by The Rev. Fred Lane arrived at our college radio station. Previous Shimmy Disc releases from arty New York weirdos like Bongwater, B.A.L.L. and King Missile had impressed me and found their way into the station's heavy rotation, much to the annoyance of some of students at our small, conservative, liberal arts college.

Most of the stuff on Shimmy Disc was weird, but The Rev. Fred Lane was from a whole different universe of weirdness. This wasn't arty, affected, New York "weird," this stuff was strange and compelling in a way that was more in line with the work of "outsider" artists like The Rev. Howard Finster or Henry Darger. While the music was too sophisticated and knowingly strange to have been made by an illiterate janitor who stashed tapes in his dresser that no one knew he made until his landlady found them, it was clearly made by someone on the "outside" who wasn't looking for a way "in."
The album threw absurdist humor, an Elvis fixation, demented swing music, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, rockabilly, and lounge music into a pop-culture blender. It was pretty obvious to me that the "Rev. Fred Lane" was some sort of pseudonym. The back cover featured photos of what I assumed were imaginary albums by the Reverend with titles like How's That Oil? Vol. II, and From The One That Cut You, mixed with covers for real albums by the likes of Pat Boone, Frankie Laine, and album covers by imaginary artists like Ron 'Pate's Debonaires and Nervous Tension Headache McPherson.
Or at least I assumed this stuff was imaginary. It was possible the covers referred to real albums—it was hard to tell. Could it be that there was some strange, alternate musical universe that I was previously completely unaware of? It didn't seem likely, I was pretty up on the world of strange music—I knew about The Residents, I knew about Jandek. But maybe Fred Lane and these other guys had been self-releasing albums for years and this was the first one picked up by an actual record label. Maybe this was something that had flown well under my radar.
My curiosity was aroused, so I called up Shimmy Disc owner Kramer. I had previously interviewed him for an article in our school newspaper about his multiple jobs as a producer at Noise New York, musician in several bands, and owner of Shimmy Disc. In the article I called him a Renaissance man and a genius. It was the last thing I was allowed to write for the school paper.
Kramer and I chatted for a few minutes. He told me he was working on another album with Galaxie 500. (For some reason he never asked me if we actually played the records he sent.) After a while I told him I loved the Fred Lane record, and thought it was weird even by Shimmy Disc's standards. "Yeah," he said, "cool, huh?" "Yeah, it's great," I replied, "but tell me who is The Rev. Fred Lane really, and what's the deal with all the album covers on the back?" The line went quiet for about ten seconds, and when he replied the earlier friendly tone in his voice was gone, and in an icily serious voice he said, "I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to divulge that information."
Was he serious? He couldn't tell me who The Rev. Fred Lane really is? We were talking about music, not Iran-Contra. "Come on man," I said, "don't be like that—you gotta give me something." After a few minutes of pestering he relented, "I've already said more than I should, but if you want to know more, show up at KKs on First Avenue between 11th and 12th Street at 2:30 AM. Order a bowl of borscht with two eggs. When the waitress brings you the check tell her 'the one that cut you' sent you."
All right, now this was really getting strange. I figured he had to be pulling my leg. "Dude, you gotta be kidding," I said, "I'm in freakin' Carlisle, PA. New York City is over four hours away. I have a midterm tomorrow." "Do you want to know or not?" he replied. Something in his voice told me he was serious. "Do what I told you and all your questions will be answered."
I really didn't think about it much. I went back to my apartment and "borrowed" $20 for gas money from my roommate [Adam—someday I intend to pay you back, sorry about that] got in my Subaru and headed for New York City. I listened to dubbed a cassette of Car Radio Jerome the whole way. It was almost 2:30 by the time I got to the city.
I went to KK's, a grungy little Polish restaurant in the East Village. I did exactly what I was told. I ordered a bowl of borscht with two eggs. The waitress was a pretty woman in her mid-thirties with a heavy Eastern-European accent. When she brought the check I was rather embarrassed, but said, "The one that cut you sent me." I was half expecting her to freak out on me and have me thrown out, but in a very blasé voice she said, "Okay, just a minute, I get it." She came back with a two hundred page mimeographed manuscript. It still had that slightly sickening fresh off the mimeograph smell. I looked at it for a second. "This isn't even in English," I said, "What language is this?" "It's Esperanto," she said. "But I don't speak Esperanto," I protested, "Nobody does." "You're smart boy" she said, "You'll figure out." - floweringtoilet.blogspot.com/


Fred Lane Sings Some of Your Fried Fish

by Joe Tepperman

Illustration by JR Williams

From Cool and Strange Music #28

 If jazz is dead it�s because Fred Lane personally killed it.  Ran it over with one of them old-timey lawnmowers.  Bludgeoned it to death on Dean Martin�s cinderblock cufflinks, he did.  Placed the hit from the payphone across the street from the Max Ernst exhibit.

�The local fuzz can�t finger him because they�re convinced Rev. Dr. Fred Lane�s just a psychopathic Big Band singer from Tuscaloosa, Alabama,� says Detective Bope-a-dope, reading his cue cards.  �Released a couple hilarious albums on the Shimmy-Disc label in the mid-eighties, that�s all they know.� 

He reveals a file photo of a man dressed in a tuxedo top with no pants, goofy sunglasses, fake facial hair, and gratuitous band-aids.  �I don�t normally take cases like this anymore,� Bope-a-dope mumbles with an air of disgust, �but then last month my secretary got a call from the Marsalis Brothers.  Still owe them a favor from way back.� 

Okay, maybe Fred Lane didn�t actually kill jazz (a little late for that).  That is, if by �jazz� you mean college graduates and/or former session men with good haircuts who know all their scales.  Fred Lane wouldn�t blow his nose on them (unless he was in a hurry).

But he at least reminded the rest of us about jazz�s real roots: racism, crime (both organized and otherwise), and generic American lowlife �civilization.�  There�s a reason why the Johnny Fontane character in �The Godfather� bears more than a little resemblance to Old Blue Eyes.  Same reason why Mickey Mouse originally looked like a blackfaced minstrel singer with rodent features.  Reverend Lane�s �stripmine crooning� and disjointed, belligerent Big Band style satirizes it all for those quick on the surrealist draw.  According to Abdul �Ben� Camel, bassist for Fred Lane�s Hittite Hot Shots, the whole venture is �Lane�s take on (and foot put on) the �Music & Entertainment Capital of the World� (our culture) after having put it through his own Epicurean food-processor.�

The music itself is mostly swing but draws upon ridiculous modern country, fifties rock, hokey children�s records, and Mancini �spy� music, too � all sprinkled with some of the wildest free improvisation ever preserved on tape.  In this case it�s a weirder combination than usual considering most serious disciples of the freer stuff (which applies for members of the Hotshots and Lane�s former backup band, Ron �Pate and the Debonairs) are typically rooted in bebop and the European avant-garde, maybe even rock, but they don�t normally go for swing.  It�s too cheesy, too sleazy and schmaltzy compared to the sincere spiritual journeys of a John Coltrane or an Albert Ayler.  Perfect for Fred Lane, though, and that�s why his songs are so original anyway.  �I like to think of them as something I stained my shirt with,� Lane said.  You stick to what�s acceptable listening in your scene, what you�re told to like by critic jerks like me, and you end up making the same old (new) music.  Obeying the conventions of Free Jazz � imagine that! 

So it�s not like America doesn�t have this sort of archaeological source material as well.  In fact that�s partly what Fred Lane is all about: digging up the humor and music of a regionalized Americana that�s been all but eclipsed by nationally syndicated radio and TV, franchise stores and restaurants, and other homogenized junk, but at the same time celebrating all that.  In Lane�s wit you can hear straight-up vaudeville joke telling, archaic radio show banter, Merrie Melodies slapstick, Vegas between-song routines, obsolete Broadway, and probably like a million other comedies and comedians from before music was even amplified that nobody except Fred Lane remembers anymore.  �There�s no tomorrow,� he mock-weeps on the closing track to his final album, 1986�s Car Radio Jerome, �there�s only . . .� and then we hear an explosion as the song and album and Lane�s whole world effectively ends, at least for a while.

Just who is this Fred Lane guy anyway?  Depends who you ask.  There are those who willingly buy the whole Lane mythology like the snake oil it is. 

�I once spoke with the mysterious and elusive Fred Lane,� said John Klopp, who used to host a Fred Lane fan web page and somehow tracked down Lane�s home phone number.  �F.L.'s mom answered.  The guy is completely nuts . . . He wouldn't shut up, just kept going on and on.  Eventually I had to hang up on him.�

Skizz Cyzyk, a filmmaker who�s been working on a Fred Lane documentary for the last 3 years and has spoken to Lane on the phone several times, begged to differ.  �I guess he might be a little eccentric but I don't think he's insane.  He's very funny and he jokes constantly.  His jokes are often a little weird, but that's just his sense of humor.�

But current Lane fan site curator Stewart C. Russell got it best when he warned, �Fred Lane is the tip of a very large, very strange iceberg.�  What is he, the Titanic-sinking variety?  Short answer: Fred Lane is stage persona and real-life art project of T.R. Reed.  But then who�s T.R. Reed?  A professional whirligig craftsman who now resides in Atlanta.

We gotta go back, way back circa 1974.  College-age Tim Reed was playing flute in an Alabama-subsidized free improv group called Transcendprovisation (later just Trans) with Davey Williams (guitar), LaDonna Smith (viola), Theodore Bowen (bass), Anne LeBaron (harp), Adrian Dye (organ), and various other local musical misfits. 

Theodore Bowen, a friend of Reed�s since middle school, describes the future Rev. as a shy, straight-A student with a gift for cartooning and an unnatural sense of humor.  �Being the youngest of five kids left him surrounded by a huge variety of musical taste,� said Bowen.  �Visiting his home was like being in an entertainment center designed to be sent into space, representing the best selection of eclectic, diverse music and comedy of the mid-twentieth century.�

Reed and Davey Williams had played together in a high school cover band called Wally du Gumba.  They sometimes opened with the theme from TV�s �Bonanza,� and did a version of Procol Harum�s �Crucifiction Lane� that was prophetic of things to come after graduation.

Back to 1974, or even a couple years earlier, fellow U of Alabama students Craig Nutt, Roger Hagerty, Nolan Hatcher, and Jim Willett had started an art collective (originally independent of the Trans crowd) called Raudelunas.  With instruments borrowed from the University band department, they staged jam sessions and group paintings at the house Hatcher, Hagerty, and Nutt rented near campus, and gigged as either The Raudelunas Marching Vegetable Band or The Blue Denim Deals Without the Arms.  The latter once opened an outdoor University rock concert with John Coltrane�s �Selflessness.�

�To say that our performances were not well-received would be an understatement,� Nutt said.  �Musically, I think we were trying to break out of the clich�s we had learned playing rock, etc., and to think of music more in the way you might approach painting.  Experimentation was not only encouraged but championed.  It was about as free and creative an atmosphere as we could imagine.�

Tim Reed must have seen much of his own aesthetic in Raudelunas� highly visualized and whimsical musical environment.  Both factions soon discovered one another and merged in time for 1975�s Second Raudelunas Exposition, the Raudelunas �Pataphysical Revue (inspired by French playwright Alfred Jarry�s �pataphysics, �the science of imaginary solutions�).

�The concept for the show was a variety show,� said Craig Nutt.  �We would make up a bunch of different groups, and we needed a Master of Ceremonies to front the show.  Someone suggested that Tim Reed could pull it off.  I remember Mitchell Cashion, I think, saying that he would do anything on stage . . . I thought of Tim mostly as a flutist.  I knew nothing of this side of him.�

Reed chose the stage name Fred Lane from two of his favorite icons, Frankie Laine and Fred Astaire, and renamed everyone else in Raudelunas for the �Pataphysical Revue�s fake Big Band, Ron �Pate�s Debonairs.  Davey Williams became Cyd Cherise, LaDonna Smith became Don �Pretty Boy� Smith, Theodore Bowen became Abdul �Ben� Camel, Roger Hagerty became Dick Foote, Craig Nutt became, of course, bandleader Ron �Pate, and so on.

The Debonairs opened and closed the Revue with frenzied, butt-kicking versions of swing standards �My Kind of Town (Chicago Is)� and �Volare,� both barely recognizable aside from Cyd Cherise�s guitar and Fred Lane�s singing.  The bill also included a great performance of �Concerto for Active Frogs� by �serious composer� Anne LeBaron, a group improvisation by the Blue Denim Deals Without the Arms, and a �traditional� piece of hardware store noise by The Captains of Industry.  There were door prize giveaways � four used tires and �Raudelunas face powder� � and, best of all, pre-recorded applause (stolen from the Woodstock album) that no doubt baffled the real audience.

�No ulterior motive here, we just did it for the hell of the experience,� Anne LeBaron explained.  �Performing in Captains of Industry and playing percussion in �Frogs,� with the purity of a demented creative spirit permeating the conservative Alabama air, was incredibly liberating.�

Faced with similar circumstances, Alabamy native Herman Blount changed his name to Sun Ra and started telling everybody he was actually from Saturn.  Can you blame him?

            �Had it been in NY or SF there would be textbooks written about it by now,� Skizz Cyzyk pointed out, astutely.  Turns out Raudelunas� reaction to the whole post-psychedelic burnout of the early seventies was part of an international improv and tape experimentation movement that included The Residents in San Francisco, the Instant Composers Pool in Holland, John Zorn and Eugene Chadbourne in New York, and the Los Angeles Free Music Society you-know-where.

�I don't think any of us had any illusions that a big audience existed for what we were doing,� Craig Nutt said.  �I certainly hadn�t thought much about doing records � it seemed so far-fetched.  However, we made a tape of the Raudelunas �Pataphysical Revue so those of us who were playing could hear what we had done.  It wasn't until listening to the tape that it occurred to me that it could be a record.�  And so it did, on Nutt�s Say Day-Bew label, effectively putting Tuscaloosa on the map.  England�s Alcohol Records plans to reissue the album on CD sometime soon.

Anyway, the irreverent Reverend Fred Lane character � who teased the Debonairs and told horrible, rambling jokes between Revue numbers � emerged fully-formed from inception.  Tim Reed certainly had the voice and quick wit for it.  In fact, the persona seemed to fit Reed a little too naturally.  He began to publish The Rev. Fred Lane Newsletter, later called Naked Women Overthrow the Government Quarterly and eventually Liquid Basketball.  And it wasn�t long after the �Pataphysical Revue that he started working on what would become the first proper Fred Lane album.

�Tim brought this neo-vaudeville play he had written over and asked me to read it,� said Craig Nutt.  �I remember saying, �This is impossible to stage and if we do, we'll be run out of town!��

Theodore Bowen�s clarification: ��From The One That Cut You� (the show), was literally inspired by a crude note scrawled on brown paper, wrapped around a Bowie knife, found in a �secret compartment� in a 1952 Dodge Panel Truck, when some friends (the owners) came by my house to repaint it, in order to elude capture by the Naval Police.  The �note,� a sort of love/threat/confession, inspired Tim to write the song, the stage show, and create the character who performs the song, all from three crude little sentences authored by some unknown humanoid named Fuear. That's real economy, I'd say about 898 miles to the gallon.�

Fred Lane isn�t merely at the wheel.  Less collaborative than any of the previous Raudelunas or Trans undertakings, From the One That Cut You was written entirely by Reed with help from Davey Williams on the arrangements.  Mostly recorded live, two songs on the final album are from the never-performed subsequent musical, �I Talk to My Haircut.�  The whole thing wasn�t released until 1983, eight years too late.  The record is still incredible in spite of itself. 

Its 1986 follow-up, though, is the more concise statement of Lane�s psychosis.  Car Radio Jerome is the kind of album that jumps out of the speakers at you and goes through the motions of holding a rubber knife to your throat.  �Gimme all your money� it demands, and normally you�d know better than to tell a mugger like this one that it�s a walking bumper sticker.  Your assailant stops to reflect on our preconceived notions of what constitutes �armed robbery,� meanwhile giving you a chance to escape.  But you decide to stay for a drink.

Lane�s final album (so far) was recorded entirely in a pro studio with just a core quintet of Debonairs that Lane dubbed the Hittite Hotshots. 

�I loved Car Radio Jerome partly because I had nothing to do with its production,� Craig Nutt said.  �The playing on it is tighter, and probably a lot closer to Lane's conception than the earlier material . . . I remember wondering if Tim was okay.  It has some dark moments!�

Yes, like on �Dial �O� For Bigelow�: In my ineptitude / I really don�t deserve to be alive . . . Everything I love just rots in my hand (Ted Bowen says this is �as close as �Tim Reed� gets to singing through Fred Lane�). 

But then it also has some of Lane�s silliest and most lighthearted (by comparison) tunes - �Upper Lip of a Nostril Man,� �Hittite Hotshot,� and, everyone�s favorite, �The French Toast Man,� which Stewart C. Russell describes as �the sort of thing that 1950�s children�s record orchestras might produce late at night, off the record, after ingesting all the wrong kinds of medication.�

There�s also a third, unfinished Fred Lane album called Icepick to the Moon.  Tim Reed and Roger Hagerty recorded several demos for it in 1993 or �94.  The few song titles that have surfaced include �The Cinderblock Man,� �Carlos Montoya Standin� By the Railroad Tracks,� and �We�re Going to Hell.�

�I do remember �We're Going to Hell,�� Hagerty said.  �It�s hilarious. It�s set to kind of a Gospel/children�s song feelgood clich� thing.  Like something you'd sing around a campfire.�

The rest of the Hotshots, now spread-out across the country, have been unable to participate thus far.  �I have 12 new donkey tunes for that particular CD,� Lane said, �but the fundus has gotten away from me.�

�In this particular case,� said Theodore Bowen, �I think the distance between the beginning and the completion of IPTM is probably equal shares of money and coordinating the �talent.��  Any bigshot record producers reading?

Even if another album never happens, the Fred Lane spirit is still alive and, uh, twitching.  Theodore Bowen refuses to take responsibility for last December�s Raudelunas-themed novelette/screenplay The Christmas Pageant He Would Have Wanted, But Was Afraid to Ask. 

�I don't get to do anything that creative anymore,� said Roger Hagerty, now Media Director for Tuskegee University in Alabama.  �I play all the time, so my �chops� are better than ever, but I'm not in an art scene anymore.�

Anne LeBaron, who teaches composition at Cal Arts, still incorporates everyday noise (like vacuum cleaners) into her pieces. 

LaDonna Smith and Davey Williams, now based in Birmingham, tour frequently as TransMuseq and edit the online magazine The Improvisor.

Craig Nutt builds vegetable-looking furniture and wood sculptures.  On display at Atlanta�s Hartsfield International Airport is a 10-foot-long jet-shaped ear of corn (Nutt�s �Corncorde�). 

Tim Reed sculpts wind-powered �creachters� full-time as T.R. Reed (his public artist persona), and has been active on the arts fair circuit since the eighties.  �Yeah, with the geegaws and finkin� high-falutin� crap of exceptional value,� as he calls it.  �It smells like Ralph Meeker�s eye teeth.�

And as for Fred Lane himself, it�s only a matter of time before Liquid Basketball and the rest of �the Empire� is up and running again.  �It's been shut down by the Health Department since Thursday,� Lane explained.  �It will reopen as soon as I relocate my Curad franchise.�

  

Thanks to: Theodore Bowen, Craig Nutt, Stewart C. Russell, Doug Newby, Anne LeBaron, Roger Hagerty, Tim Reed, Skizz Cyzyk, John Klopp, B.C. Sterrett, and Jason Polland.

Raudelunas 'Pataphysical Revue

Fred Lane Swings With Ron 'Pate's Debonairs

CD Reissue on Alcohol Records!

Copies are available here and at fine retailers worldwide.

Cover of the CD on Alcohol is a facsimile of the first edition LP.

Digipack contains a 24 Page booklet with information on the show plus lots of photos!

"One of the least known and most unusual albums of its time - from Alabama no less!" - Jello Biafra


  Review by Ed Baxter from The Wire magazine's "100 Records That Set The World On Fire" (Issue 175: Sep 1998):

Ron 'Pate's Debonairs featuring Rev Fred Lane
Raudelunas 'Pataphysical Revue
(SAY DAY BEW RECORDS 1977)

A document of a single evening in the university town of Tuscaloosa, Alabama, March 1975, at the Second Raudelunas Exposition. Dominating proceedings is Fred Lane, towering alter ego of flautist and whirlygig sculptor Tim Reed, who comperes with a series of hilarious lateral jokes and weird monologues. His cover versions of "Volare" and "My Kind Of Town" backed by Ron 'Pate's Debonairs - a hot, swinging, meandering big band - set new standards as melody gives way to controlled, impassioned and deeply humorous improvisation. This monumental work also features Anne LeBaron's superb "Concerto For Active Frogs"; Mitchell Cashion's charming setting of Julius Caesar's "The Chief Divisions Of The Peoples Of Gaul"; Industrial noise from The Captains Of Industry; and wild Improv combo The Blue Denim Deals Without The Arms. No other record has ever come as close to realising Alfred Jarry's desire "to make the soul monstrous" - or even had the vision or invention to try. It's all over the place. The sleeve notes describe it as "the best thing ever" - time has not damaged this audacious claim.

((photo:  First edition cover - 2 color screen print w/hand coloring)

The 'Pataphysical World of
Fred Lane
and friends

'pataphysics noun the branch of philosophy that deals with imaginary solutions. [coined by French absurdist Alfred Jarry.]
Now featuring... absolutely nothing to do with Liquid Basketball!

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Raudelunas 'Pataphysical Revue to be released on CD in March 2002. Read more here.

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...quite a lot of people came. Of course, quite a lot of people left immediately.

--- Davey Williams, on Raudelunas 'Pataphysical Revue

History

(or, Why this site's here: "The Tape That Started It All")

Back in 1986, my friend Bill gave me a tape with a track he'd recorded from the John Peel Show. The song was "French Toast Man" by (Rev. Dr.) Fred Lane, and it was the most crazed thing I'd ever heard.
The tape lay in the back of a cupboard for many years, until I found it, played it, and was amazed how bizarre it still sounded. Shortly afterwards, one of those frequent internet coincidences got me the address of a dealer that stocked Fred Lane. I sent off my details and waited...
That tape started something.

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So who is Fred Lane?

You might find a website that says Fred is a mystery drifter of some sort. Wrong.
You might even read on his record label's website that:

. . . he wishes his true identity kept under wraps. Hear his music and we're quite sure you'll agree.

Also wrong.
With a little bit of digging around and a whole lot of luck*, I have found out that Fred Lane is the alter ego of T.R. Reed, musician, raconteur and woodworker from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. The inspiration for the Lane name came from a distant relation, Ken Lane, piano accompanist of Dean Martin.
Tim Reed is currently making wind sculptures called "Creachters" (such as Rickshaw To Go, on right). You can find out more from:

Creachter Windsculptures
T.R. Reed
P.O. Box 20248
Tuscaloosa, AL 35402
USA

There's an article from Tuskaloosa Magazine about Tim and his work. It's around 212KB, in PDF format.
Plus another from The Tuscaloosa News describing Tim's Whirligigs.
MOJO magazine carried an article on Fred and the Tuscaloosa scene in June 2001. You've got Jerry Brennan to thank for this.
In his performing guise (influenced by Mortimer Snerd, Clem Kadiddlehopper & Goofy, according to Tim...), he has been occasionally backed by Ron 'Pate's Debonairs, a wild big band led by Craig Nutt. Their first recording "Raudelunas 'Pataphysical Revue" was made in 1975.

This was followed by "From The One That Cut You", and later (without Ron 'Pate, but with a few of The Debonairs under the guise of The Hittite Hotshots) "Car Radio Jerome" (1983).

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Discography

1. Raudelunas 'Pataphysical Revue
2. From The One That Cut You
3. Car Radio Jerome --- featuring French Toast Man.

Fred & Co also recorded Shoelaces, a poem by Ernest Brookings, with music by Fred. It's on the LP Lyrics by Ernest Brookings Vol 1, published by Duplex Planet, and now out of print.
Several correspondents have asked about another recording, Icepick To The Moon, which was to have been released by Shimmy-Disc in 1989. It seems that there was a disagreement, and the release was cancelled.

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Finding Fred

Shimmy Disc have reissued the two later albums on CD. These are available from many suppliers, such as Amazon.com in the US, and COW in the UK. A two-on-one Fred Lane CD "From The One That Cut You/Car Radio Jerome", Shimmy-Disc Europe catalogue SDE89/11 can sometimes be got from Hemisphere and other suppliers.
Tim Reed has copies of these two albums on vinyl, and can supply inscribed copies for US$50 each.
"Raudelunas 'Pataphysical Revue" on vinyl is now a collector's item. Craig Nutt has some copies left.
Whee! Ed Baxter's label Alcohol Records is releasing an extended version of Raudelunas on CD. For more details, e-mail cproductions@britishlibrary.net. Trade distributors or shops should phone Ed on 020 7403 1922 (UK), +44 20 7403 1922 (International) or 011 44 20 7403 1922 (USA -- watch the time difference!).
If you have any information you think I should add to this site, please send me it --- thank you!

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Finally: A Note From "Fred"

Does Father Christmas drive a Goose?
What year and model?

Guess it would have to be a Snow Goose --- SCR

(All lyrics/samples/artwork copyright © the original artists. Reproduced for review/promotional purposes only.)
*: like Tim's brother, author and bookstore-owner Jim Reed e-mailing me to say "I'm Fred Lane's Brother!", and passing on lots of information.

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Stewart C. Russell

Reverend Fred Lane: Danger is My Beer 

It’s difficult to describe the music, or the persona, of Reverend Fred Lane, but I will try. The above pictured album cover probably paints at least a thousand words…

Fred Lane is an ultra obscure musical weirdo cult hero along the lines of Half Japanese, Daniel Johnston, Jandek, R. Stevie Moore or Wild Man Fischer, but he’s way, way more obscure than any of these comparatively famous freaks. At least you know the general territory. Lane was/is the stage name of a Tuscaloosa, AL-based artist/sculptor named T.R. Reed who put out two albums under the Fred Lane moniker in 1983, From the One That Cut You (recorded in 1975) and Car Radio Jerome in 1986. These albums were then re-released by Kramer’s Shimmy Disc label in the late 80s.
First the music: cartoony big-band free-jazz swing skronk sometimes bordering on total cacophony with dada lyrics and elements of easy listening, 70s Zappa, spy-fi, The Residents, Spike Jones, country and No Wave thrown in for good measure.  It’s truly unlike anything I’ve ever heard before and that’s not a throwaway assessment. The music of Reverend Fred Lane exists in its own very, very specific angel dust funhouse mirror continuum in the same way that a film like Eraserhead or Forbidden Zone stands out when compared to other mere movies.
In the mid-70s there was an Alfred Jarry-influenced absurdest arts group/event in Tuscaloosa called the Raudelunas Pataphysical Revue and this is where Reed’s “Reverend Fred Lane” alter ego was born, as the joking MC for Ron ‘Pate’s Debonairs. No pants. A tuxedo jacket. Coke-bottle glasses, a leering grin and a waxed mustache made the sleazy Reverend’s mad look which was then topped off with Band-Aids. Although it is an act, it’s not one that’s completely obvious at first and Lane might seem to some listeners to be genuinely demented.
From the One That Cut You was literally inspired by an illiterate threatening love note/confession from someone named “Fuear” that was wrapped around a knife that was found in a secret compartment in a 1952 Dodge truck. Reed wrote both a song and also a stage show based on the note for his Fred Lane character.
The note read:

“I hope the paine is gone. This is the one that cut you? P.S. Don’t wear about Jimmy I will take kear of him the same way I took kear of YOU.”

Dig his song titles: “Upper Lip Of A Nostril Man.” “Car Radio Jerome.” “The French Toast Man.” “Danger Is My Beer.” Who could forget “I Talk To My Haircut”? I can’t imagine what this music sounded like to unsuspecting listeners in the 70s and 80s. And how in the world did people find out about it? (Apparently John Peel played Fred Lane on his BBC radio show. I heard of him because Kramer gave me his CD.)
Only two Fred Lane albums ever came out, A guy named Skizz Cyzyk has been working on a documentary about Fred Lane and the Raudelunas collective for over a decade now. He says of the Alabamy art/freak-out scene, “Had it been in NY or SF there would be textbooks written about it by now.”
Interesting point. The Fred Lane CDs are long out of print and sell for upwards of $75 for used copies on Amazon. Fred Lane seems like an obvious candidate for a deluxe collector’s edition CD reissue of some sort. In the meantime, there’s a download link on the Remote Outposts blog. - Richard Metzger

FRED LANE & RON 'PATE'S DEBONAIRS - "From The One That Cut You" - LP - 1983

    The record pictured above is probably one of the most important records (to me) that I will ever put on this blog. This record is responsible for vastly altering my ideas of music and changing the way I've thought about it since hearing this for the first time. It's just as important to me, musically, as THE MINUTEMEN'S "Double Nickels on the Dime", seeing the CRAMPS when I was 12, hearing the HICKEY LP for the first time, meeting my friend Harry and experiencing my first live IMPRACTICAL COCKPIT show. I came across it at Sunburst Records in Huntsville, AL when I was absentmindedly flipping through the new releases (which is weird since this thing came out in 83, but recorded in the mid-70's) one day in 1996. All of a sudden, this freak (pictured above) was staring me in the eyes and I didn't know what to think of it. I mean, how do you pass up a record with scrawled handwriting all over the cover, accompanied by THAT guy with band aids all over his face? Well, I couldn't pass it up. I bought it immediately without knowing anything about it and I remember Jay (the store owner) looking at it and saying "What the fuck is this, man?"

    When I first put it on, I was a little disappointed. This was just like...lounge music or something. I had some bummed out visions of those people who buy "Exotica" records and think they're really wild. I almost picked up the needle off of the record, but then it started to get weird. It started to delve into a cacophony of horns and weirdness that was approaching free jazz and straight up noise. The arrangements would flow out into a mess that sounded unstructured, out of tune and completely out of focus...but then it would all come back together in one big swell that sometimes worked, sometimes didn't, but I fucking loved it. This record grew on me over the years and started to inform the way I approached music and helped me to gain a better understanding and appreciation of the true freaks of the music world.

     But who ARE these people? That's the question that took me a few years to figure out (I didn't use the internet until 2001, plus no one I knew used it in the 90's anyway). It was next to impossible to find out any info about them in books or zines. The closest thing I found was a tiny blurb in the book Incredibly Strange Music but even that hardly said anything worth noting. After a while, I found out that this was from my very own home state of Alabama! The liner notes say that some of these songs were recorded in a stage production and a musical. After more digging, I found out that the group that played on this Fred Lane LP (the group consists of 21 people) had worked previously on another LP called "Raudeluna's 'Pataphysical Revue", which was recorded live at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa in 1975. It was basically a variety show that consisted of deranged swing standards, noisy improvisations, hardware store noise, a "Concerto for Active Frogs" and more.They needed an M.C. for the night, so they chose their friend Tim Reed, who renamed himself Fred Lane. The record sounds crazy, fucked up and beautiful and I love that it happened in front of a live audience at a school in Alabama. Between the noisy improv, pre-recorded applause, and door prizes (4 used tires), most of the audience walked out.

   Before this even, a core group of folks from this band were hosting group paintings and jam sessions at their house where prior experience wasn't necessary. This was the beginnings of this whole scene of people and improv musicians that continues to thrive to this day. Around this time, the guitarist Davey Williams met and started a longtime collaboration with LaDonna Smith (both on this Fred Lane LP) that continues to this day (incidentally, I saw them perform a performance art piece in Montevallo, AL when I was 12 or 13 that was a pivotal moment in my life that helped me to realize that "something else" was out there beyond mainstream music, beyond suburbs and beyond what I had ever even thought about. It meant a lot to me.).

   Anyway, let me get back to the point here. Apparently, this record ("From the One That Cut You") was literally inspired by a crude note scrawled on brown paper, wrapped around a bowie knife, found in a secret compartment in a 1952 Dodge panel truck when some friends (the owners) came by a house in order to repaint it, in order to elude capture by the naval police. The note, a sort of love/threat/confession inspired Tim (Fred Lane) to write the song, the stage show and create the character who performs the song...all from three sentences written by someone named Fuear. (This info comes straight from an article by Joe Tepperman) The note read " I hope the paine is gone. This is the one that cut you? P.S. Don't wear about Jimmy I will take kear of him the same way I took kear of YOU".

   There was a third album called "Radio Car Jerome" that came out in 1986 and a lot of people seem to love it, but I found it to be too structured and a little hokey. It didn't have the fucked up spark of the previous LP and a lot of the improv was gone. There was also an idea for a fourth LP called "Icepick to the Moon" but it never got past the idea stage and maybe that's for the best. A guy named Skizz Cyzyk has been working on a documentary about Fred Lane for 10 fucking years now and I wish it would come out already. I wrote to him once, asking questions about it and he never wrote me back. If you want to read more stuff about Fred Lane, Say Day Bew Records or the early Alabama improv scene, be sure to click over to the Raudelunas site. Be careful though because it can lead you down a wormhole of misinformation and internet time-suck. Apparently, this crew of folks loves embellishment and Dada-ist wordplay. 

   Also, I could talk about this record and Alabama for another 3 pages, but I will spare you. If you want to talk more about it, get in touch and I will bore you to tears.

Download "From the One That Cut You"

- remoteoutposts.blogspot.com/