Vinyl Vault

Arguably, 1968 was the high-water mark for the hippie and psychedelic movements, though in music we would feel the aftershocks of them both for another decade and more. But the “Summer of Love” wasn’t just about sit-ins, sexual liberation, and exploring the doors of perception. In Detroit, of course, garage bands were beginning to turn up the amplifiers. Elsewhere, far from the long-hair tent, artists like the Velvet Underground and the often-forgotten Silver Apples were pushing the envelope of rock music in artier, and far more dangerous, directions.

The Velvet Underground and their de facto leader, underground hero Lou Reed, would develop a solid enough name for themselves after their breakup that now even the most mainstream list of influential artists has them near the top, sharing the stage with the likes of the Beatles, Buddy Holly, and James Brown. But Silver Apples, that other group (really a duo) of minimalist noise-makers, is still a long way from becoming a household name.

It shouldn’t come as too much of a shock. The band lasted only two albums before getting sued out of existence by Pan Am (thanks to an album cover featuring the mock-up of a crashed Pan Am jet). Their songs, even at their most catchy, would never have had a chance on pop radio. Where the Velvets had “Sweet Jane” and “I’m Waiting for the Man” to pull in casual listeners, Silver Apples released tracks like “Oscillations,” which sounded more like the soundtrack to Forbidden Planet than a Top 40 hit. With its screeches and beeps, rambling drums, and chanted lyrics on the subject of rudimentary synthesizers, the song couldn’t have sounded more out of place. And the band felt it best to lead off with this track, precious ears of their listeners be damned!

Listen to “Oscillations”

The duo came together in New York in 1967, after synthesizer player Simeon (formerly Simeon Coxe III) was dropped from a less experimental group for showing up at gigs with an audio oscillator from the 1940s. Simeon met up with drummer Danny Taylor, and Silver Apples were born. Within a year, during a lucky peak in the history of the recording industry, a self-titled album hit record-store shelves (and often lingered in bargain bins). The nine songs therein, along with their second album a year later, would have a slow-burn effect on the music world.

Being the first rock group to utilize electronic instruments as a key element of their overall sound, their initial impact was undeniably in Germany, where groups like Kraftwerk, Tangerine Dream, Faust, Amon Duul II, Neu!, and Can absorbed not only their driving rhythms and weird modalities, but also the band’s central use of the synthesizer to create new spectrums of sound. It’s hard to imagine the Krautrock scene emerging without the keystone of Silver Apples to gel all the other divergent interests these artists brought to the table. And without Krautrock, English and American progressive and art-rock groups from the seventies would have all sounded like “Nights in White Satin.” New Wave simply wouldn’t have happened.

Take a listen to the characteristically robot-meets-pop-music of “Whirlybird.” Skittish drumming, a rave-like synthesizer drone, and some clattering percussive background noise combine with an altogether catchy (if a little mumbled) vocal to create two-and-a-half-minutes of pop antithesis. Or give the pre-hip-hop drumming on “Seagreen Serenade” a whirl, or the spaced-out dance number “Lovefingers” and imagine what Brian Eno thought the first time he heard it.

Listen to “Whirlybird”
Listen to “Lovefingers”

Their second record pushes the limits of sixties rock another step forward with the introductory “You and I,” a track that could come out tomorrow and make Silver Apples the darling of the indie rock scene. “You’re Not Foolin’ Me,” one of my personal favorites, tells the tale of a speaker desperately trying to reach his lover on the phone. Somehow his distant voice never makes contact, but the tense noise and ringing phone capture the anxiety of the moment in a way that an average drums-bass-guitar group could never hope to achieve. “I Have Known Love,” a clear precursor to David Byrne’s solo work, may be the most pop-oriented song in their oeuvre, and like so many of their tracks, it sounds as good now as it must have when it first arrived from the future.

Listen to “You’re Not Foolin’ Me”
Listen to “I Have Known Love”

Lucky for all of us, both their early records are now available as a single reissued disc. Sadly, after a productive reformation in the nineties (check out the incredible album Garden from this period), drummer Danny Taylor passed away. Simeon, a victim of a recent car accident, is currently semi-retired from music, but has been making appearances recently to commemorate the band’s 40th anniversary of the night it played live to the Apollo moon landing in Central Park.

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