Unknown Instructors new release, “Funland” out soon on Smogveil Records. “Like Sun Ra in Flannel.”

My first attempt at listening to this album was on a sweltering hot evening in San Clemente, California. I just filled my piece of crap car with gasoline and impulsively clicked “YES” when the digital gas station attendant asked if I wanted to also purchase a car wash for an additional ten dollars. After all, the gradient of filth on the side of my sweet ride seemed to infect the paint with flakes of some kind of epidermal disease. There were also several piles of crustified bird feces on the hood of my car that had likely been there since last summer. Upon getting in line for the automatic chariot bath, I soon realized that the (long) line ahead of me was not moving. A wagontrain of perfectly clean luxury imports (all silver) at a complete standstill. Apparently I was unaware that the automatic carwash was out of service.  Next page >>

Irritated, cussing. I left the gas station dirty with a crisp yet ineffectual receipt for a bath. I’m unaware of a lot of things. As a wonderful welcome, Mike Watt is at the spiel of the first track, and so it is understandably one of the more bearable songs of the bunch. In fact, it is usually only when he is on the mic (“Maji Yabai”) that I truly enjoy this dream team.  I was also unaware of David Thomas’ (Pere Ubu frontman, with a voice bassy enough to often get mistaken for Mike Watt’s) contribution to The Unknown Instructors until this particular record. Dan McGuire and Joe Baiza pitch in with some of the better vocals. In the same manner I enjoy the poetics of Pete Simonelli put to good music, I can get down with the Unknown Instructors- they are like Sun Ra in flannel. The CD spinning in my player was good, but it was really putting me in a bad mood.

Unknown Instructors
Funland
Smog Veil Records

“This album deserves a better chance,” I thought. So I vowed to give it a more sincere listen at a later time. Later: Be it known that the Unknown Instructors build spoken word-based noise in the form of diverse avant garde sonic experimentation with fIREHOSE squeaks and bop bop bops (due to the pedigree, of course). The sound is akin to studio-recorded premature ejaculation mixed with black ink and fused with improvisational claptrap. Among the redeeming tracks: “Afternoon Spent at The Bar, Sunny”. Actually listenable and somewhat agreeable. Perhaps I sound unconvinced simply because I think it takes more than an all-star lineup to create truly enjoyable music. Even… no, especially if it is improv rock constructed with a focus on nonsensical warcries. I love Raymond Pettibon as a visual artist. George Hurley rocks. And Mike Watt is a powerhouse. No more explanation needed.

Be forewarned: the Unknown Instructors may seem like they are untried… but trust me, they know exactly what they’re doing. Today I found the wrinkled up receipt to the “convenient” car wash that I had purchased over two weeks ago. I decided to make the drive back to San Clemente to get my car washed (since the aforementioned birdshite has been festering on my automobile of leprosy.) I once again listened to the album on this particular errand, which was my third unsuccessful attempt to redeem this same carwash coupon. The bloody thing was once again out of order.