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Tantamount to Treason, Vo (1971)


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The FNB broke up during the recording of Nevada Fighter, and Nez got James Burton, Glen Hardin and Ronnie Tutt (all from Elvis' band) to fill in. Not bad.

So, then came The Second National Band's debut album, Tantamount to Treason, Vol 1.
(there was never a volume II).

This album is often glossed over in Nez's career overviews, if mentioned at all. It's sometimes referred to as "odd", "misguided", "meandering", "weak" etc. This is usually a sign that the writer hasn't actually spent any time listening to the album. Because it's none of those things.

I think that this album might be one of the few times that Nesmith released something that sounds perfect for the time in which it was released. Perhaps this was conscious, so that he'd finally start selling some records and be accepted by the serious rock fans of the day.
If this was the tactic, it didn't work. Or perhaps he was already in the middle of recording, and thus, more excited about, his next album, out the same year, And The Hits Just Keep On Comin', which is the polar opposite of Tantamount (just acoustic guitar and Red Rhodes on pedal steel), and which contains songs Nez has kept in his live rotation ever since. Whereas, except for some "by request" versions of "Wax Minute" in 1974-75, Nez seems to have chosen to not even regard any of Tantamount as worth mentioning. A shame. I think "In the Afternoon" would be mesmerizing live.

(Funny, one song on And the Hits... that I never could get with was "The Candidate", until I realized that musically, it's the one musical bridge between his two 1972 albums. Now I dig it a lot. "The Candidate" seems to have come from the same musical pod--as in peas and as in aliens-- as "In the Afternoon". Anyway...)

I've read that RCA hated Tantamount to Treason, and thus didn't hype it (boy were they dumb to not hype it) It was strike four. against Nez. It also seems as though Nez didn't tour behind the album. Oh, man...if that band took the Tantamount sound on the road...woulda been something.

Anyway, Tantamount sold as poorly as his last three albums, so, Nez ironically titled the next album And the Hits Just Keep On Comin'.

How to describe Tantamount to Treason? Well, it seems to be the first time Nez decided to "let it all hang out" on a record. He's having fun. Or maybe he was miserable and was "forcing the mirth", or whatever he warns his audience not to do during one of his between-song lectures at the 1974 Zig Zag concert. Miserable? Nez? Why? Well, let's count the possible ways: 1) Three strong albums in 18 months had not sold 2) the good reviews in such rags as Rolling Stone didn't endear him to the hip demographic--or any demographic 3) The First National Band broke up 4) his marriage to Phyllis came to an end, and 5) according to this article, he was arrested for weed in Colorado.

By the way, the only other Nez album that seems to reflect a desire to get out of his head and have mindless fun is 1979's Infinite Rider on the Big Dogma ("all I wanna do is dance and have a good time.."). But that seems to be more of a Malibu disco and blow vibe, though I have no way of knowing what Nez was up to behind the scenes in those days.

Where was I? Oh yes. What does Tantamount sound like? I'll take you song by song, but on the whole, well, it sounds like 1972. 1972 seems to be when "the 60's" ended. 1972 seemed to be the breaking point for those teetering on whether to let their freak flag fly or not, even if just for a moment. A prime example being Neil Diamond's unhinged Hot August Night. It was perhaps the last year for many of the 60's rockers where the balance between work and play was in check, and the drugs still worked for bands like The Rolling Stones and The Grateful Dead, both of whom had new songs coming out of every pore and membrane that drugs couldn't get into. The Beach Boys suddenly had two South African guys in their band (Ricky Fataar and Blondie Chapman, invited into the band by Carl Wilson), contributing more, musically and vocally, than some of the original members and getting the band into some serious grooves that sounded nothing like The Beach Boys. Neil Young was entering a dark and creative phase. CSN had long since peaked and splintered. Lou Reed had been rescued and redefined by Bowie. The Kinks were reinvented as theater glam rock. Weird, transitional times.

There's a recording of Nez appearing live on KPFK, Los Angeles in 1972 doing a solo "Joanne" and he sounds rather loose and care-free (read: a tad high?) especially compared to his serious, deep between song patter in 1974-75. As I've said before, this album, to me, reeks of weed. I even think that the beer recipe on the back is to distract from this fact ("Ain't nothing illegal here! Just good ol' suds!"). But the music inside smells sweeter than barley and hops.

So, why is this album so unique? Well, for starters:

--who are these dudes in the band (besides mainstay Red Rhodes on the pedal steel)? Where did they come from? Where did they go? Keyboardist Michael Cohen plays like Thelonious Monk meets Little Richard meets Keith Emerson. Drummer Jack Ranelli (hey, another Italian drummer!) is the loosest, grooviest drummer Nesmith ever played with. Polar opposite of the atomic clock of John Ware.

--Jose Feliciano on congas? But. I. Don't. Understand.

--the cover features sewage and junk floating in water that has apparently risen almost as high as the Statue of Liberty. In the background, rainbows outline some mountains, and a rather stoned looking drawing of Nez looks at us from the top center.

--the back cover features Nesmith's recipe for beer.

Now, the songs.

The album kicks off with Nez's heaviest riff ever and a lusty, un-Nez-like lyric about a "Mama Rocker" who's "pickin' up the music and passin' out the favors". I wonder if this is about Marianne Faithfull, who Nez once described as the "rock and roll mama of all time" and said he unabashedly flirted with her at the Beatles "A Day in the Life" recording session? Besides the heavy riff, the music is a heavy Chuck Berry-esque 12 bar boogie with a great distorted pedal steel solo. Nez still wasn't a guitar solo guy at this point, and in fact, there is a solo section that is just his electric rhythm guitar, bass and drums. To my ears, it sounds a lot like Keith Richards circa Exile. I love Nez' rhythm guitar playing. Check it out.
Next comes "Lazy Lady", which introduces a theme that Nesmith returns to a few times in his next couple albums--I believe it's the dissolution of his marriage. Or a "subject/object trip" as he describes in the ZigZag Concert. See also: "Tomorrow and Me", "The Upside of Goodbye", "Release" and "Continuing". All five seem to be Nesmith consoling himself and the woman in question. Trying to put a happy and brave face through the turmoil. Composition-wise, it's sort of a half-realized song, in my opinion. Good verses, but then the pedal steel break seems to recycle that of "Thanks For the Ride". It's the only song that could have been on any of the FNB albums--except for the fact that there's a trippy Moog fading in and out, and Nez' acoustic is drenched in echo.
Also worth noting is that the title is never sung in this song. However, "Mama Rocker" DOES mention the "Lazy Lady" TWICE. Hot damn.

Then, another anomoly in the Nez canon: "You Are My One". The lyrics? Look no further than the title and repeat about 20 times. Halfway through, insert a jam on Nez's cool four-chord progression (sort of the stoned cousin of "Calico Girlfriend") with some trippy pedal steel and some loose-ass drumming, and you wouldn't be blamed if you thought this was an outtake from the first Jerry Garcia solo record (also from 1972) or The Dead's Wake of the Flood from 1973. Then there's the "Shhh/Peaceful"/"Riders on the Storm"-esque electric piano... It's perfect driving-with-windows-down-on-a-perfect-summer-day music. Preferably with a mountain somewhere in the near or far distance.

The first side ends with yet another oddity: "In the Afternoon" paints a vividly dusty picture of a tired ranch hand at the end of his sweaty workday. It's wordy (your average ranch hand doesn't use words like "domicile"), it's trippy, it's expansive, it's got a two-songs-in-one structure (in a way, it's like Carl Wilson's "The Trader"--slightly awkward, but works beautifully in the end) and by the end of the bridge, Nez is singing at the very top of his range. In some ways, it might be the seed of The Prison. If I had to guess, I'd say it's a metaphor for Nesmith's post-Monkees life:
"Turn and dig your heels in the road/Don't be bound or trapped by the old/Take from the past what you need/To Give to the new life you lead.." See what I mean? Fuck the Monkees, fuck the critics, learn from your mistakes and keep on keepin' on (which he reminds himself on his next album).

Side Two is made up of all non-Nez-penned songs. It starts with the one song I always skip, but I will listen to now, to refresh my memory: "Highway 99 With Melange", written by keyboardist Cohen.
The beginning is cool, and Nez seems to be revisiting the "cut and paste" method of the beginning of the Monkees' HEAD soundtrack. There are snippits of other cuts from this album fading in and out before the song starts with an early Little Feat type groove. But it doesn't stay there long. Nesmith talk/sings a story about wanting to get with his best friend's lady while riding in a broken down car up Highway 99. The music is willfully messed up--speeding up, slowing down, skipping beats, adding beats... I've given the song a few chances, and I just can't do it anymore. Too "kitchen sink". Sorry, guys.

Next comes what might be the best song on the album--"Wax Minute", written by semi-obscure Canadian singer songwriter, Richard Stekol. You wouldn't be blamed if you thought it was a Nez song, with its break-up theme and non pop-song words. The band absolutely gels on this one. Cohen and Red Rhodes exchange solos that start melodic and descend into insanity. Nesmith's vocal delivery is one of his best on record. The way the song fades when it seems Nesmith hasn't finished what he's singing is a bit odd but lets the listener down gently. Jose Feliciano's congas are awesome on this. You will dance to this one and you will enjoy it.

"Bonaparte's Retreat" is an old fiddle tune from the late 1800's which was turned into a country standard after Pee Wee King's hit version in 1950. It was covered by Glen Campbell and Willie Nelson among others. However, only Nesmith's version features a free form jam in the middle. It's pretty neat. The beginning is jarring, though. I think the mastering on this album is a bit off--at least on the CD version. "Wax Minute" always seems too soft and "Bonaparte's Retreat" seems too loud. Or maybe it's too loud because I turn it up during "Wax Minute".

Hey, you know Bill Chadwick, right? Look at your Monkees records and you might see his name.
He tried out for The Monkees but didn't make it. He hung around, became Micky's stand-in and ended up writing or co-writing (and sometimes playing/singing on) songs like "Zor and Zam", "French Song" and "You and I". Nesmith tapped him for a great song called "Talking to the Wall", which is next on side two. In fact, in 1969, Nez produced Chadwick's version of this song for a single that is now extremely hard to find. I'd love to hear it. I said, I'D LOVE TO HEAR IT. Excellent song, but I feel a bit sheepish when it comes on because I realized (too late) that I kind of ripped off the opening riff for one of my songs. Still, it's a spooky little downer of a song with a great pedal steel solo and nifty 12-string electric work by Nez.

Mike: Blah, blah, music…blah, blah, profound yet completely incomprehensible observation about society and spirituality…blah blah, I wear my sunglasses at night. Bill Chadwick: Do we all notice how much I look like Micky? It seems I’ve gone and stolen his hair, even. Just look at these luscious curls. It’s no wonder I get to be Micky’s stand-in. Kid in the Background: Whoa…that guy over there has huge sideburns. I wonder if I can make mine that big? Come on, puberty…do something good, for once!
Nez with Bill Chadwick on the set of The Monkees.

At the end of this trip comes a very sedated, 3 am-sounding treatment of George Jones' "She Thinks I Still Care". Best version of this song by anyone? Yes. I will say it loud and proud. From Nez's opening guitar riff to his most impassioned singing on record to the solo section where...the....tempo....drags....
In any case. Yes. Excellent way to end the album. All the west coast country rockers should have bowed down to Nez after hearing this one. Fuck them.

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Last Edit by lovecraft23
22nd Dec 2013

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