Every now and then bands come along that create a genre out of almost nothing. Jimmie’s Chicken Shack is such a band. During the early 90’s, when Grunge was replacing Hair Metal and New Wave on the charts, only making room for nascent Rap and R&B acts, the band built themselves into a major underground success based entirely on incessant touring, networking, and founding their own record label, Fowl Records. The record label proceeded to sign like minded acts and built itself into a powerhouse within the mid-Atlantic region, replacing Discord as the label people in the area cared about and no one else did. Musically the acts had nothing in common. All they shared was work ethic.
So that’s pretty cool. This review isn’t about Jimmie’s Chicken Shack, which I do hope to get to at some point (probably in the J boxes), but it is about the All Mighty Senators, who were the number two band on Fowl Records. Given that Jimmie’s Chicken Shack, and thus Fowl Records, has dropped back into relative obscurity, I felt the intro was necessary, though it says nothing about what the All Mighty Senators sound like. That sound is good. I’ma get back to that later though.
I bought this album undoubtedly because of the name. In particular the fact that a band with a black front man named themselves after the main, all white, nemesis of the Globe Trotters. That tickled me in a special place. The fact that two of the three remaining members looked like the most painfully inbred hicks I had ever seen on record packaging was another factor. One of these men appears to have no teeth. And the entire band is dressed in what can only be described as horribly sleazy lounge/cowboy attire. On the back of the jewel case they are dressed in slightly different attire, with the front man dressed as a luchadore.
The music kicks ass from the beginning, though they take some jammy detours. I’m not really sure how to describe it without reference to Fishbone, but said band represents such insane diversity of sound as to render comparisons somewhat moot. There is a strong funk influence, but with a hard driving rock sensibility. All the music has a definite can do feeling, almost to a pop-punk level, but this positivity is grounded in a well intentioned rage or energy. I suppose what saves the band from the Jam dungeon is the fact that they play with way too much energy to get boring, very much a Ska sensibility. Then there are the lyrics.
I love their lyrics. Most are in some way stupid. But in a really unique way. I suppose I will illustrate with a sample of my current favorite song, “Mother Nature’s Afro.”
We’re cutting holes
In mother nature’s afro
And if we keep letting our mother go bald
There will be no supper tonight
The burger clown’s gonna cut them all down you can
Get that wrapped up to go…sticks
The song proceeds to blame McDonalds for the evils of deforestation, and extol the virtues of hemp paper production. Part of me if probably making fun of them for refusing to acknowledge the complexity of deforestation, particularly that hardwood rainforest trees are not being processed into paper, and therefore hemp production would not really…you get the idea. On the other hand, they are so hilariously earnest and hey, at least they are trying to make a political point. Modern indie seems terrified of discussing anything other than feelings.
Other songs on this album discuss important issues like booty being fresh, and the relative place of Chuck Norris and Jackie Chan in the pantheon of Kung Fu masters. So essentially this album, and as far as I can tell this entire band, have crystallized the entire 90s hippie liberal ethos into one album that combines a psychotic variety of styles (Including old school rap and heavy metal. Missed those before.) with a really blatant disinterest in justifying themselves for anything other than having fun.
I approve.
Find this album. Buy this album. Ruin this album.
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