Guest Reviews - 2

Go with the Ventures

[EDITOR'S NOTE: Here's a second guest review of Ventures albums. This one is again by fellow Ventures fan Al Rearick.]

After listening to "Go With The Ventures" for the umpteenth time and trying to figure out what it is about this album that I don't like and not being able to really pinpoint it, I've finally figured out that what is most off-putting about this album is that this by far is the DARKEST Ventures album ever. Just look at the cover. Sure it looks like an argyle sock; but the message is in the color scheme of the cover: a little brightness (the pastel blues, yellows, and greens) amidst a background of dark. So it goes for the selections on this album: most of the songs are in a minor key, and the overall mood of the album is one of weariness and apprehension. (it is my understanding that this album was recorded at a time when all the guys were exhausted. That shows in the playing, for better and worse.)

The album gets off to a pleasant enough start with "Green Grass," which oddly enough has no bass guitar in it. It has a sprightly beat and the chimes actually provide one of the few lighter moments of the album. What little happiness that "Grass" may have given off is quickly steamrolled by the fierce attack of "Ginza Lights." Don's rhythm guitar makes this song memorable as much as Mel's machine-gun drumming, (after listening to this album, I have to wonder how many guitars did Don go through on this album?) and Bob's bass swoops in and out for desired dark effect. If you thought that Bob's bass had been tamed on "Grass," "Ginza" unleashes enough power to cover BOTH songs. Hot on "Ginza's" heels is the Nancy Sinatra hit "These Boots are Made for Walkin," and here the dark mood is enhanced by Nokie's snaky lead lines, probably his best work on the entire album. "Frankie and Johnny" follows as one of the low points on the album. Starting off with a Kinks-derived riff, the song plods along not knowing which of the two time signatures it wants to keep. But the memory of that is erased by the frantic "Ad-Venture," which is followed by the side closer "Monday Monday," one of two covers of songs done by The Mamas & The Papas. Whereas the M&P version is remorseful and syrupy, the Ventures version is harder and darker, as if Monday coming is a reason to celebrate. Mel's drumming is offset by an effective tambourine in the left channel, and this is one of the few instances of any Ventures recording where the female vocals actually enhance the song. Don and Bob play understated rhythm while Nokie walks away with yet another beautifully fluid lead.

Side two flies out of the gate with the raucous "Good Lovin" which, like "Green Grass" is actually one of the lighter moments of the side, not even beginning to hint at the impending gloom that follows this song. A good sloppy song in the tradition of "Sweet and Lovely," with Mel tearing up the place in fine fashion, "Good Lovin" is as effective a side-starter as anything the guys have done. "Eight Miles High" follows and is probably the most frustrating song on the whole album. Not because it's a bad song or a bad arrangement, but because this song comes as close to showing the Ventures as humans capable of making mistakes more than any other song. The reason: it doesn't even come close to matching the ferocity of the Byrds original. (Hark! I think I hear a BLASPHEMY in the distance!) On the other hand, this version also shows another angle to the song in question: whereas the Byrds version was wide-eyed in it's attempt at social awareness, the Ventures version is more of a jaded response, like "yeah, we've been there. Tell us something we don't know." While this version also has the advantage of being a lot darker than the Byrds version, it is also one of the few songs where Mel doesn't play as ferociously as he could have and Nokie sounds as if he's playing a rote lead. This song could've benefitted from Mel shredding his drums to pieces and Nokie cranking the Fuzztone to eleven! (I realize I'm rambling and waffling on this song; now you know why I find it so frustrating: I can't tell if I should like it or ignore it. Oh, well.) As if "Eight Miles High" wasn't dark enough, the song that follows it is THE darkest song on the album, if not one of the darkest songs in the entire Ventures catalogue. "Escape" is appropriately titled, with it's lonely organ in the background, a fuzzy Mosrite jumping all over the place (where were you when we needed you in previous song?), and Mel once again setting the mood. This song would be great as it is were it not for Bob's incredible bass thumping, giving Don a run for his rhythm money. This song by itself is worth the price of admission into this haunted house of fears known as "Go With The Ventures:" with this song, it's almost as if the Ventures dared their fans to look at the exposed nerves that are present on this album, resulting from years of touring and recording. They're not looking for sympathy, mind you; only understanding, and this is where "Escape" truly succeeds. It seeks and it finds! A lackluster reading of "Sloop John B" gives way to one more sprightly tune, the title track "Go!" Utilizing a Chuck Berry riff for the first time in their career, Nokie takes off with the rest of the band keeping up and mashing everything in it's path. This song also has the added benefit of some great rhythm "flogging" by Don and more bass antics by Bob (who has one of the best workouts of all of them on this album). The album closes with the other Mamas & Papas cover "California Dreaming" and for the first time, the Ventures do not go out in a celebratory manner that is present on other albums. In fact, the presence of such a dark, longing song at the end suggests that this could be the end for our boys as well. The symbolism is not to be missed: longing for a time in the past when things were a little more peaceful and not as hectic. The very fact that the album ends on a minor chord indicates that perhaps for the first time in their lives, the Ventures aren't sure of their next move. The sad guitar notes open the song before Mel comes thundering in and Don and Bob play as if it's their last song as a group, trying to stay happy and energetic not knowing what will happen once they leave the studio.

If ever an album showed a group coming to grips with it's humanity, collectively and individually, then "Go With The Ventures" is it. It's not an easy album to listen to at first. It's not your average danceable Ventures record, and I dare say that this one didn't get played at many parties in the sixties. Coming hot on the heels of two of their best records--Where The Action Is and Batman Theme--I can only surmise that this album must have suprised many Ventures fans with it's completely different mood. Whereas the previous two albums freely rocked harder than anything else coming out at the time, the edgy tone of this album actually challenges the listener to look at the Ventures as more than just your average faceless surf-rock band by forcing the listener to dig deeper and look past the four harried faces on the back of the album and into the hearts of the men playing the music. Luckily, the next album "Wild Things" would restore things back to their rocking and rollicking mood, but for once in their careers, the Ventures took a step back in order to evaluate themselves and their music, and in the process bared their souls in a way that no other group at that time would have thought possible.

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Last Updated: January 1, 2003