Henry Flynt & The Insurrections – I Don’t Wanna

“Henry Flynt’s rock album is something of a bargaining chip in the ongoing intellectual commerce concerning his historical value as a musician and composer. I Don’t Wanna, the title scrawled in quotes, presents a black-and-white cutout of Flynt in white suit and black tie on its front cover. To someone aware of the great praise this artist has received for his remarkable recordings from the early ’80s, this CD cover might suggest the New York new wave rock scene of that same era. This material was recorded in 1966, however, meaning it is too late for the photograph to suggest the natty look of Gerry & the Pacemakers and way too early for the new wave. Those seeking to make sparks with this Flynt on any surface possible will make the new wave connection into an indicator of just how ahead of his time this artist was. On other critical faces sneers will start to form, anticipating informed comments along the lines of “I think the Flynt discography is wonderful…but not that rock album!” If Flynt had indeed made what rock nerds like to call a “jaw-dropping” album back in 1966 that was never released, it would of course be a feather in the cap that is bigger than the cap itself. This is just too much to expect, although on the whole the nine tracks here add up to a vision of rock music that most listeners will be perfectly happy to have in their heads for a while, maybe even give a repeat listen when it’s over. That would be just like a classic album from the ’60s, many of which would not stand up to a detailed critique without giving up at least a couple of tracks as duds. Flynt’s creations with the assistance of a loyal bassist, drummer, and keyboardist have even more things in common with the beloved rock records of the ’60s. In fact, the argument that this music was incredibly radical and different from what was going on at the time is difficult to accept. There is about a half an hour of music in total, just like a typical LP from the ’60s. The musical influences that Flynt brings to his collection of songs are the basic ones that were running through all rock from this period: country & western, old-time, folk, country blues, R&B, and so forth. In all three of his roles as a composer, guitarist, and vocalist, Flynt holds up well in comparison with anyone doing anything similar at the time, including the much better-known Captain Beefheart. His rock isn’t just weird, though — one of the best tracks, an instrumental entitled “Corona Del Mar,” is a straightforward take on the groove and progression used by Chuck Berry on the song “Memphis.” It is ironic that the latter recording, in which Berry experimented with using household objects for drums and lo-tech home studio recording, is actually the more avant-garde of the two. Had this album been released at the time of its recording and given decent circulation, perhaps some aspects of avant-garde rock would have wound up sounding different. This notion is based on the opinion that the majority of musicians just go and copy what someone else has already done. As history actually unfolded, Beefheart was pretty much the model for musicians who wanted to play rock that was liberated from traditional European classical songwriting form and the Tin Pan Alley concept of harmony that developed from that. A kind of “pattern music” came out of this, with many bands playing one riff or pattern that is repeated a certain number of times, then another, then another, just like Beefheart used to do. These patterns would often sound like something distilled out of the Delta blues. It is tremendously enjoyable to hear Flynt working in a similar manner but with his own sensibility, so much different than what developed out of Beefheart’s weird relationship with his own Magic Band. As a composer, Flynt has always made interesting choices, so it is too bad that dozens of rockers didn’t have the chance to imitate him. No matter how unique he might seem in a rock context, he made these recordings in an era when it was perfectly acceptable to be yourself musically. I Don’t Wanna is inevitably at its best when it is most like a typical ’60s album, like the way “Uncle Sam Do” kicks things off with a killer or rather anti-killer “protest song,” just like the way a vintage Country Joe & the Fish album would have started. Paul Breslin’s use of acoustic bass is part of an overall lightness to the music, at times suggesting rockabilly. The contributions of the supporting musicians should not be exaggerated but, even when weak, it makes the whole thing once again come off like a real ’60s album rather than some kind of super session involving avant-garde heavies. Something special happens with the interplay on many tracks, the feels including variations on slow blues, shuffles, and boogies. It is a kind of opening up of traditional forms, only a glimmer of the expansion of Flynt’s later work but a glimpse nonetheless of a great creative personality caught up with the excitement of the mainstream.” – allmusic.com

Label: Bo’Weavil Recordings – Weavil 02

Format: Vinyl, LP, Limited Edition, Numbered, Reissue

Country: UK

Released: 2004

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