gray/smith: s/t

"In the Fall of 1971 ABC-TV debuted a new western called Alias Smith and Jones, about two outlaw cousins in Wyoming Territory in the years after the Civil War. At the 1994 WFMU Fall Record Fair, John Allen had a box of LPs categorized as 'Beard Rock.' On Thursday February 18, 1971 at the Capitol Theater in Port Chester NY, the Grateful Dead debuted a new Garcia/Hunter tune called 'Wharf Rat.' On Friday May 6, 2022 the NYC duo, Gray/Smith released their eponymous debut LP. Draw a line between these dates on an Angus Maclise Universal Solar Calendar and you'll start to wonder why you hadn't noticed the connection between these events earlier. L Gray, sometimes known as Llilw Gray, started showing up on the fringes of NYC event hustles in the Mid-Teens. There were DJ gigs and live sessions with tapes, electronics and whatnot done in concord with humans like Tom Thayer and Chie Mukai. Odd pulsing events here and there, sometimes whistling like a rotten-toothed record collector being used as the devil's own nose flute. But it was usually dark (very dark) when things were 'going down,' so you couldn't really be sure what was happening. It seemed like a beard was involved, and a big one at that. Whisper campaigns linked Gray's name to Keith NNCK, but no one could ever confirm. Still, there was a whisp of Hint House Memories in the air. Rob Smith's name is easier to pronounce. And unlike Gray, he can be found playing with actual bands like Rhyton and Pigeons and various ensembles associated with the steel guitar of Barry Walker. These things can be known. And they also carry a whiff of Hint, but by knowing them, we can come close to understanding them. And we can infer then perhaps, at least this time, that where there is a beard, there is Beard Rock. And with the release of the Gray/Smith album we can begin to get some answers to our questions about where and what the music on this album actually is. When I asked Gray to describe it, he said it was, 'country.' And while I can accept that as true, it does not tell you very much. Because the music here, produced by the duo of L. Gray and R. Smith, is only about as country as it is psychedelic. And it's only about as psychedelic as it is lazy. And it's only about as lazy as it is instrumental. And it's only about as instrumental as it is utopian. And it's only about as utopian as it is urban. And so on. There are a couple vocal tracks, but they don't tell us much. They seem based on the presumption that a certain type of country music ceased to exist with the death of Ron 'Pigpen' McKernan. But through light fingered application of drums and guitar and sheer weirdness they also offer the notion that this non-existence need not continue. The music offers a hand up from the form-hole in which we find ourselves today, nearly four decades after Ron left the planet. And I don't mean to assure you that Gray/Smith have found THEE fucking answer or anything. But I'll be damned if their questions don't seem like the exact right ones for the pickle in which we find ourselves. And if it's time to saddle up a beard and ride it straight into the exploding helix of a sunset penned in blobs of acid-time by the late Rick Griffin, then let us fucking do it. And while we do it, let this magnificently humble Gray/Smith album be our soundtrack. So say we all." --Byron Coley. Cover silkscreened by SIWA.