THINGS AREN'T ALWAYS WHAT THEY SEEM...'JOY ZIPPER'

Hearing just the sunshine-infused melodies and harmonies would have been more than enough to turn me head over heels with Joy Zipper's self-titled debut, but the ensuing years have seen it fascinate me all the more. Whatever the definition of modern psych now happens to be, 'Joy Zipper', the creation of Vincent Cafiso and Tabitha Tindale is mine. Well, one of them anyway...

It was recommended to me by a friend working in radio, who kindly passed on a copy insisting that it was 'very Heyday'. Viewing the album's front cover I wasn't so sure, but intrigued by some of the song titles I decided to give it a listen, followed by several more listens, often one after the other and so it continues, all these years later, but why?

It was the end of summer 1999 and with autumn approaching, any music with a hint of sunshine about it would be welcomed, but there were plenty of other albums I could hear for that. The songs were also of a similar steady pace, neither fast nor slow, offering little in the way of much variation either. However, over time, already entranced by the melodies, I started to become more and more drawn to the lyrics. They were some of the most disjointed I'd encountered since first hearing 'Forever Changes', so, with curiosity sufficiently piqued, I began to listen while at the same time letting my imagination wander in search of any kind of meaning, if any, I could find. Hard to believe I've had so much time (to waste?), eh?

Let's begin with 'Like 24 (6 + 1 = 3)'. How about that for a song title and then these opening lines too?
'...I was one and you were three, now I'm only one sixteen of the one who lost you...'
'...Things aren't always what they seem, sometimes six and one makes three, I'm the one who named you...'

I know, I know, I'm slightly lost here as well, but here comes the hook...
'...Twenty four, numbers mean something to a child, like smooth bright coloured pencils, tropical forest wood, and I'll draw and we saw and turned on power, like twenty four, smooth like shapes on pavements, and we draw, and we draw...'

The guitar solo that follows won't be one to go down in history, staggering along as it does to its end, much like the one in 'All You Need Is Love', but at least this is short too. It does, along with the words, lend the song a feeling of melancholy, maybe some confusion, mixing the loss of someone close (a parent, perhaps?) with that of childhood? It's relatable, but what an unusual way to express such feelings! No matter how hard I've tried though, I still can't work out the maths!

The shared vocals of Tabitha and Vincent return once more in the next track, 'Transformation Fantasy', as they will throughout the rest of the album. It's an interesting feature. Their voices blend well together and with the music, which is generally dreamy on the ear, very melodic, but don't be fooled, there's still a way to go yet. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, 'Transformation Fantasy', a co-write...
'...Play your cards son, this is what you were given, not some movie from the drive in, it's surprising, how stupid we forget, the real things we forget...'

During the singing, there's a little 'fun and games' going on with the flow of the music, like a finger pressing against the tape as it's running, annoyingly trying to slow it down. It's unsettling, but this is nothing compared to the words that follow and when the song gets back up to speed...
'...I'll insist although there is no meaning, no seriousness, and like a child's game, our life is impermanent, our death is inevitable...'
and as if to emphasize further...
'...There is nothing, there's nowhere to go, our life is impermanent, our death is inevitable, like a child's game, I'll insist anyway...'

Uncomfortable, right? Well, how about a little crisis of faith next, just to stir things up even more?
'Check Out My New Jesus', is yet more dream pop masking something more troubling wordwise...
'...You said I'm unclean, you know I know about those things, shiver in the sun, I like my clothes when they're undone, people gather round, check out the patches on my new jeans, gather round...'
'...I mean you no harm, I just wanna be God...'
'...Check out my new Jesus, He talks when He walks if you want Him to, never mind the thorns, they're only there to confuse you, people gather round, check out the patches on my new jeans, gather round...'

Here then, I'll make my now regular Dylan comparison, as 'Check Out My New Jesus' recalls to my mind Bob's dig (in 1965) aimed at modern consumerism as well as the loss of faith -
'...Disillusioned words like bullets bark, as human gods aim for their mark, make everything from toy guns that spark, to flesh-coloured Christs that glow in the dark, it’s easy to see without looking too far, that not much is really sacred...'

In both instances and in an unusual manner too, I think a point gets across here, in a way...

Moving on now and what's this? We may be in for a brighter view of life at last, well maybe, perhaps then, yeah maybe, yes, hmmmmm, well, oh let's just listen...
'I want to roll a big fat pillow and smoke the feathers, feel its comfort and support, I want to cover my body, and cover to cover my fear, and hide from my fate, which appears to be as ugly as the yellow tooth of the man in my nightmare...'

It was all going so well there for a moment (I think), I was gently drifting along, feeling all cosy-like, listening to weird sound effects and quite delightful Lennonesque 'White Album' guitar picking, originally all the way from Rishikesh, via Donovan, apparently! The song is 'Pillow' and just as I felt the earlier darkness lifting, I've been fooled again! The music continues to be a delight though, but the words remain strange...
'...oral symphony, outside my door, in the recipe, I should have added more, seasoning is fine, takes a thousand years...'

There's a lovely twin vocal arrangement over the above, reminding me of 'Scarborough Fair/Canticle' as it eventually brings 'Pillow' to a peaceful close. Ahhhh! It's a beautiful song...mostly. Happy nightmare baby!

'...If no one listens to you, talk to yourself. If one listens to you, not to yourself talk...' With this particular paradox, 'Christine Bonilla' (another co-write) opens, but any attempt at contemplation is soon interrupted...
'...Time is filled in on the cardboard cut-out, equal on all sides, the smallest pinhole, ba-da-ba-ba-da, ba-da-ba-ba-da...'

No idea where any of this fits in, or why the song has maybe shifted over from difficulties in communicating to photography? It's a bit of a leap, but sung all rather sweetly and in such a way that it all could really be making perfect sense to me and I wouldn't even realise it! Christine Bonilla, photographer, artist...or mystic? Hmmmm, '... ba-da-ba-ba-da, ba-da-ba-ba-da...', indeed.

Time now for a short musical interlude perhaps?
'Pan Moota' offers a welcome time of reflection, finally! It's a studio experiment featuring backwards effects, but is no 'Revolver' revisited, more a jaunty South American bongo-psych-groove, if you can imagine that? It's lovely, by the way...

End of Interlude...

With 'Booda', the following song, more of Vincent's spiritual side is revealed. Something begins to change lyrically on the album from now on and he sounds less vulnerable and more assured...
'...My brother he said, life and pain are one, wisdom teaches love, introspective selfless, one...'
'...my reality is love anyway, she's inside of me, my reality, love is anyway...'

...all of which of course, brings us to God, which is also the title of the next song, where, among uplifting harmonies and another gorgeous melody, we hear...
'...The time is over, the day is gone now, I spent the day with her, to spend an hour with God, my dream is over and now I'm sleeping...'

Any doubt about faith in the singer's mind now is quickly put aside as well..
'...I heard there was no God, but I just spent the day with him...'

Love and God. Interchangeable. Beautifully put into words here too. Together with 'Pillow' and 'Boodha, 'God' is a highlight of the album for me.

The slightly troubling 'Everyday' is along next, but at the same time it does offer a solution to the feelings expressed in the lyrics, but in quite an unorthodox musical way...
'...Everyday, I feel myself getting thinner and thinner, feel my arms and my triceps getting smaller and smaller, sometimes I can't control this funny feeling I'm feeling, starts in my toes, then in my nose I get this feeling, I'm dying...'

All the vague wordplay earlier seems to have disappeared now, we're moving towards the confessional, an openness and honesty. 'Boodha' and 'God' were just the beginning. I find this quality rare in many songs, but it's something that I always admire in songwriting. It serves to connect me a little with the singer (and song), maybe teach me something, or at least leave me with something to ponder over. It's also why, when listening to some of Vincent's lyrics, I'm often reminded of John Lennon.

When I was once searching Joy Zipper online, I came across an interesting quote of Vincent's in an article from the New York Times, that was, ironically, reporting on the happy occasion of his and Tabitha's marriage. From it emerges a little more about his character and songwriting...
'Musically, depression's good, once I write about something dark, I don't feel it.'

It's music as therapy then? Like Lennon (and countless other artists too), writing is a form of release for Vincent. Catharsis. Now some of those earlier lyrics begin to make some sense, although he wasn't quite ready yet to express himself quite so openly? It seems to me then that the 'Joy Zipper' album songs are an even split lyrically and centred around the instrumental 'Pan Moota'.

Back now to 'Everyday', which has musically taken quite a turn towards the distorted, but out of the derangement emerges a solution for dealing with problems of the 'everyday' and perhaps those in the song 'Everyday' - courtesy of the sampled voice of Alan Watts and the recording of his 1967 lecture, 'Zen Bones'...
'...All this universe is like water, it is fluid, it is transient, it is changing. And when you’re thrown into the water after being accustomed to living on the dry land, you’re not used to the idea of swimming. You try to stand on the water, you try to catch hold of it, and as a result you drown. The only way to survive in the water, and this refers particularly to the waters of modern philosophical confusion, where God is dead, metaphysical propositions are meaningless, and there’s really nothing to hang on to, because we’re all just falling apart. And the only thing to do under those circumstances is to learn how to swim. And to swim, you relax, you let go, you give yourself to the water, and you have to know how to breathe in the right way...'

All is transient, unable to be controlled, so it's best to surrender, or 'learn to swim' among it all. However, it's not always easy to relax during the musical shenanigans that are happening in 'Everyday', but, remembering the words of Alan Watts, I've since learned to 'swim' through all the mayhem I'm hearing and have actually come to enjoy it!

Once the voice of Alan Watts fades back into the music, 'Everyday' finishes much like 'I Want You (She's So Heavy)', to take the earlier Lennon analogy a little further - abruptly! A quick, full turn of the volume control at this point then reveals some studio banter among the musicians, difficult to pick out clearly, but beginning with Vincent - 'I said I'm stopping this s**t right now...' followed by someone in reply, 'You know that really psyched me out man...'. Quite a session there then, I think, but the album's not over yet. Where to next? Believe it or not, 'Apathy', but hang in there, this is one groovy number!

'Apathy', another co-write, is sung by the pair in Japanese. At least I think it's Japanese!!? While I've yet to find a translation, from the general upbeat feel of the track, I think all may be well here! Yes, there are good vibes all around (at last!), quite literally, as the track features, heavily, a vibraphone that continually rings in my ears throughout! All in a nice way now, of course!

We're nearly there folks, but there's still enough time for one more instrumental before finally closing out the album and well, why not? It's unlisted, untitled, short and spacey, a little strange, but then what else would the listener be expecting by now?

Ah, 'Joyzipper'- it's an intriguing listen and I hope my ramblings haven't put you off hearing it once again, or for the first time either, but just remember to 'Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream'...