I have seen rock 'n' roll's future and it's in...Lawrence, Kansas. And Lincoln, Nebraska; Austin, Texas; Natchez, Mississippi....You think I'm kidding? Couldn't be more serious. Bi-coastal artistic domination will soon, if not already, be a thing of the past. Modern pop-with the word derived now, in its truest sense, from populism-will be everywhere. Thanks to the continuing techno-revolution we're on the verge of a new frontier. The law of the land: Have eight track, will record.

In the past (say, punk-77} this was a theoretical idea; ultimately most artists ended up shuffling back to the corporate bossmen and the comfort they had to offer. What seems quietly revolutionary about the blurting legions of the newest bands is they really don't give a shit about Warners or CBS. For "one nation under a groove" as outdated as the concept of nationalism itself. Take it from good ole John Stuart Mill, who wrote: "When society requires to be rebuilt, there is no use in attempting to rebuild it on the old plan."

All of this serves as preface for Fresh Sounds from Middle America. Conceived and produced in and around Lawrence, Kansas by nine Kansas and Missouri bands/artists, the double cassette package works both as artistic statement and historical document. (And the cassette form adds a subversive edge: bypassing traditional pressing-plants/corporate recording infrastructure.) Dogma aside, flexing vocal cords and finding a voice are not one and the same, one implies exercise without necessitating vision, the other takes vision for granted. Hence, I love the idea of the Kansas cassettes more than the music on them.

Most of Tape 102 is art for recording's sake: stilted, unfocused and unwarranted. No fun. However, the Buckthrusters' Jayhawk version of Flash and the Pan is interesting, the New Wave Brothers' "rap" is as funny and ill-considered as any white boy raps. Occasional sympathetic chords aside, there's nothing worse than Dada/free-form sound/performance art that's only halfway there. Maybe next tape.

Four groups-Get Smart!, the Mortal Micronotz, the Yard Apes and the Embarrassment-fill up Tape 101 with 21 originals ranging from the Micronotz' inept punk to the Embarrassment's metallic garage bfunk. ("Bfunk" is white beat music inspired by but not in itself funk.}

The Embarrassment, made up of Wichita's grand old men of new music, work with non-linear, pop-rock structures, holding onto just enough traditional riffs to make their eventual disintegration dramatic. Monotonal, schizo singing, unpredictable melodies, bristling beats and intelligently subtle textures spawned in the mix make a few of the Embarrassment's moments as compelling as anything on Fresh Sounds. The group is at its most cryptic on 'D-Rings,' en ode to a Voyager mission to Saturn and an inspired admixture of Feelies and heavy metal The group's winning conclusion and the songs coda: "it's never coming back."

The Yard Apes offer slightly neurotic, skewed pop that's less mannered and self-conscious than, oh, the Waitresses, and also less memorable. Neither is cynical subtlety a forte: "Sandy's not the same little girl she used to be/She's playing with snakes." But 'Pretty Face' is a peppy snatch of daily life that bounces along with clean, clear Kantner/Slick-like harmonies.

Get Smart! is three fresh-faced ex-KU kids lugging snippets of everything from Spencer Davis to the Cure into its power trio fold. Of all the Fresh Sounds entrees, Get Smart's are sharpest, least cluttered and pretentious. Mark Koch can say everything necessary with a wrist flick on rhythm guitar and "They Walk in Pairs" succeeds in spite of its heavy-handed didacticism.

From their awful name to their awful, lost-in-the-cellar, half-speed hardcore, the Mortal Micronotz are pure rock 'n' roll. The oldest of these Lawrence high schoolers just hit 17; the other three are way back in 10th and 11th grades. These kids grew up worshipping Johnny Ramone and Sid Vicious which means one chord change is enough and sometimes too much. "The Police Song" and "Blonde Haired Ghost" are both wonderful, grungy fun, but "Subterfuge" is classic.

From its impossible-to-sing title, the B-to-D# Alice Cooper/Doors vamp, the song and group's blustery attempts at sounding mysterious are brash, presumptuous, nearly liturgical. And as long as that kind of honesty--no, faith--is invested in rock, its future seems secure.

by Phil Davis

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