Often songs and albums are untitled, but rarely are bands. The tribe of British pranksters making caffeinated and clamorous early-90s free improve did have a name, it just happened to change for every performance. Because their multiple monikers each began with an A, the group came to be called The A Band. The Nottingham-based collective’s name shifting emphasized the A Band’s dedication to unfixed musical regulations, embodied by a revolving band lineup, a motley and expansive discography, and undeterred quest to turn anything and everything into an instrument. Anarchic improv bedlam never felt so good.

Apollolaan has collected two unreleased A Band shows from 1992: a recording from July 24th at The Adelphi in Leeds (performing as Andrew Lloyd Weber), and a manic set the following day at Nottingham’s Rock & Reggae Festival as An Ole Crab. (An Ole Crab being Barcelona spelled backwards; the 92 Olympics opened there that day.) The packaging is beyond tremendous: two discs in paper sleeves with stickers provided by the band, pages of collaged photos and a flyer from the festival. The package is solid and substantial, even heavy, and the cover shows a vacuum cleaner sitting beside a microphone. You become intrigued.

“Andrew Lloyd Weber” begins with grinding metal increasing in volume and giving way to vaguely Floydian keyboard riffage. Layers upon layers of crashing cymbals, bass undulations, scraped metal, and tribal drumming compete for attention. The ensemble slowly gathers a full head of steam, and pretty soon are a hurricane tearing through a sawmill, whipping up a colossal maelstrom of ramshackle sounds and dragging blasted circuits into the abyss. After several craggy peaks, the improvisation cools to a viscous ooze and unravels into alarm clocks and whispers.

“An Ole Crab” is shorter and scrappier than “Weber.” There are more voices and more drums. Nebulous percussive hits occasionally align into a simple tribal beat streaked with rips of trombone. Halfway in, feedback monopolized the speakers and textures become sharp and abrasive. The mosaic concludes with what sounds like a Casio being tossed into a chipper. Five or six people clap and someone in the crowd asks, “Who were they then?” Hilarious conclusion. I’m glad the crowd noise made its way onto the end of the recording. Perhaps An Ole Crab were still performing?

The A Band were Free Jazz minus Jazz, Panic music sans satyr, and Industrial without the end of civilization. At times recalling Sun Ra, electric Miles Davis, and Einsturzende Neubauten, they were still utterly unique, proving that noise can be a sloppy sandbox free from overt politicizing or heavy overthinking. Change your name every night, let whoever in your band, and wring sound out of whatever’s handy. The intricate and freewheeling soundscapes heard on this stellar collection are what happens when nearly all conceptual parameters are out the window.

Now for the bad news- “Andrew Lloyd Weber/An Ole Crab” was limited to 100 copies and is already sold out. But fortunately The A Band are back together playing shows. I’m hoping they continue to stir it up for a long time. 8/10 -- Mike Pursley (3 November, 2009)
http://www.foxydigitalis.com/foxyd/reviews.php?which=4986

Thanks Mike!
However as i write this there are still copies available, just not directly from apollolaan.
If you have missed out so far but would still like a copy then please head to
http://www.volcanictongue.com/
or
http://www.secondlayer.co.uk/

or to http://www.fusetronsound.com/ who should have copies in their next update.