Zachary Nichols of Frontier Ruckus shares his experience at Cambridge’s Weirdo Records. By Zach’s description, it sounds like he found a Total Fuckin’ Nugget, and knows a shit-ton about it at that.
The Record Store: Weirdo Records
ZN: Last time, I didn’t buy the record. A bandmate and I were salivating over a psych-folk vinyl when we mistakenly let it slide back into its milk crate. This time, I made the trip solo and left the store with a Malaysian pop comp from the ‘60s: a relatively tame selection. Relatively tame because Weirdo Records of Cambridge, Mass. is an odder, rarer shop than even the records it carries; it is the mind-blowing inverse of f.y.e.
I would say the shop was too intimate for an in-store performance if bands didn’t perform there every Monday in a series of shows called, “the Series.” The coziness of the shop is misleading, because it boasts a giant selection of the strangest music you’ve never heard. But in spite of the thousands of records stocked from floor to ceiling, you won’t necessarily find the record, or even the genre, you’re looking for. Weirdo Records is selective, specializing in exotica, experimental marginalia, field recording, sound collage, noise, small scene compilation, and infinite subgenres of these: a wild and endangered records preserve.
Before I found my record, I paced around the stacks like a kid in the Reptile House. Meanwhile, owner and shopkeep, Angela Sawyer, graciously humored my less than insightful questions about a 3” CD-R bootleg of The Strange Musical Instrument—Musical Saw by Fang-Teng Lee. That was one of the records I recognized, but in such a collection, recognition is the rarity. And in my twenty minute perusal, I owned or knew of maybe ten records. Once a bedroom web store, Sawyer made the switch to 844 Massachusetts Avenue in 2009, but you still don’t completely understand Weirdo until you’ve explored the site. I spent half of the time writing this review on Weirdo Records’ website, digging through the digital crates.
The Weirdo website (weirdorecords.com) is a well-updated and exhaustive catalog of thousands of records (3594 at last count) with a coyly linked mp3 for each (“Wanna hear it?…”) and blurbs that read like noir love notes passed in a rock class. All in a Willy Wonka color-scheme that makes a music lover feel like Augustus Gloop, you’ll also find extensively compiled recordings from “the Series;” a forty-five part blog concerning found Cantonese Opera cassettes, digitized and reviewed; and my favorite feature, “Weirdo Radio,” which is simply a link to what Sawyer is playing in the store (currently Romanian hip-hop).
In my IRL search, the words, “Pop Yeh Yeh,” appeared on an album spine. I picked it out, hoping it might be related to the ‘60s French yé-yé camp—a hope that the mod outfits and “1964-1970” on the cover seemed to confirm. Leaving the store, I got a nod of from Sawyer who gave me my change with a sincere thank-you.
The Record: Pop Yeh Yeh: Psychedelic Rock from Singapore and Malaysia 1964-1970
ZN: The record was compiled by a pop yeh yeh obsessed DJ from Richmond, VA, named Carl Hamm, over the course of eight years. In 2010, Hamm went on a crowd-funded research trip to Malaysia and Singapore to find, interview, and film the scene’s artists, label personnel, and fellow enthusiasts. A $10 pledge got you private updates from his trip whereas a $100 pledge got you “a limited edition BONUS MIX” of the genre. Upon his return, small scene aficionados at Sublime Frequencies put out the beautiful disc. Later this year, Hamm embarks on a second research trip for a second volume and a documentary in the works.
Research from the first trip informed the two booklets that came with the record, which are the only liner notes I’ve seen with a bibliography. In the first booklet, a detailed origin story of the genre (that would only later be called pop yeh yeh) precedes the complete translated lyrics of the album. The second booklet contains an explanation for the inclusion of each song by way of a bio for each of the 25 or so bands represented. Both booklets add invaluable context the tracks. If you’re wondering how the transistor changed Malay radio programming, or how the British, then Japanese, occupation of Malaysia affected musical tastes, you’re in luck. And knowing that teenage, talent show participants recorded these songs onto four-track recorders in one take, adds an authenticity that the orchestra-backed yé-yé chanteuses can’t equivocate.
The twenty-six songs of Pop Yeh Yeh were self-arranged, mostly self-written, and they sound that way: beautifully imperfect. Even as Zaleha Hamid sings ostensibly innocent lyrics (slightly off-key) about “a fisherman on a boat/catching a fish/ in a forest stream,” she broadcasts a melodic angst while the accompanying guitars (of The Black Cats) implicate a surfboard more than a boat. A guitar tone influenced by Hank Marvin, of The Shadows, defines the record atop the sharp chord progressions found in surf rock and Ennio Moriconne.
The vocal melodies run the gamut between the lilting Vinton-esque “Kisah Tak Sudah,” (Endless Love), to the Doors-ian dreamy turn of phrase in “Kisah Di Simpang,” (A Tale from the Street corner)—from the Stones-like “Revolusi” (Revolution) to the slippery Eastern scales of Selda Bagcan in “Bintang Pujaan” (Star Idol). In effect, the melismatic Malay singing style that saturates the record is what makes it and the genre unique, distinguishing the melodies from the Beatles, the Shadows, Vinton and the rest.
Many of the tracks were only previously released locally or only in country. And the music likely would have stayed local if not for the collaborative efforts of Hamm, an adventurous label, the Malaysian musicians, crowd funders, and record store owners like Sawyer. In the end, a shop like Weirdo Records is worthy of a unique record like Pop Yeh Yeh. And this first-of-its-kind record needs, and deserves, a shop like Weirdo Records.