Apocalyptic Bebop

‟But everything must change, 

Nothing remains the same”

Last week, through a Facebook post by his wife, I discovered that Marc Campbell, lead singer of The Nails had died. Campbell was not a musician who ever reached the heights of success or fame, but he was a significant voice in my life as a music fan.

It was 1984. I don’t remember the first time I heard the song 88 Lines About 44 Women. I remember there being some controversy at my college radio station about playing it. Apparently somebody in the administration thought it was pornographic. I had a tough time believing that the professor who advised the station, an old-school, actual 60s era hippy, had a problem with it, though apparently he did. Maybe he was just worried about his position. True, the F-Word did appear, but there was a twelve-inch single version that bleeped it out for radio play. It’s an important song to me. It’s probably the only song by The Nails you may have heard.

When asked to list my top ten favorite albums somehow I always forget to list either Mood Swing or Dangerous Dreams, the two albums released by The Nails in the mid 80s. I’m not sure why this oversight persists because they both, collectively, should be on the list. I think maybe it’s because they hit me at a weird transition point in my life when I was outgrowing my teen obsessions but hadn’t yet discovered a lot of the life changing albums that were yet to come. They were liminal in my life.

Some of it is that they were there and then they disappeared. Very few of my friends knew about them at all, and those who did only knew 88 Lines, and while that song is the reason I found them, it’s not really representative of their sound or what they were. It can be thought of, in many ways, as a novelty song, or just short of one. It is a list song, like Jim Carroll’s People Who Died. As the title says, it is 44 couplets about 44 women, written by Campbell. In he lists women who were significant in his life in some way. Some of them were lovers and sexual encounters, but not all of them. The final lines of the song are ‟Amaranta, here’s a kiss, I chose you to end this list.” It was only recently that I discovered this was for his then baby daughter. Another of them, Tanya Turkish, whose couplet contained the line with the F-word, disappeared from Campbell’s life, only to reappear years later and become his wife. He died sitting on the couch next to her.

Though by the culture of the present, a lot of this feels dated, or sexist, or politically incorrect. While this may be true, the world was different then, and this was an artist speaking his truth, politically correct or not.The couplets are succinct, yet draw an evocative picture. You feel as if you know these women, or at least recognize the type from people in your own life. Even at the time I felt as if I could make a list of people who passed through my life and left an impact of some kind. Anyone could. Four decades later, with the vantage point of age and experience, I feel this more strongly than I did then. It’s an acknowledgement of the importance of other people and the stories they leave.

I have those people, though I don’t have an actual list, or well written couplets about them. I’m too verbose to be that succinct and insightful. I won’t attempt to list them here. A lot of this is very personal, and there is no way I could ever complete a list of everyone without inadvertently leaving someone out.

There are those who were, and remain, in my life in hugely important ways. Girlfriends and lovers. Teachers and old women from my youth. Students and friends. Momentary people who were there and gone, but who I remember in images and glimpses, some for reasons that are profound, and some for no reason I can think of, but the memory lingers. Some of these people know what they mean to me, because I tell them. I’ve been telling some of them about their importance for decades. Many have no idea that I carry a piece of their story in my brain and in my heart. Many of them may have no memory of me at all. Many of them have been gone from my life for a long time, and far too many of them have died.

Viewed through this kind of lens, this fun novelty song takes on a lot of significance.

But, as stated, 88 Lines does not really represent The Nails. I discovered them in the midst of a lot of punk and new wave bands. Even then they didn’t comfortably fit in either of those molds. Campbell was an intelligent, well read poet, wrestling with religion and God, and society. He was a product of the 60s – hippies, and free love, and drug culture. At the time, based on his lyrics, subject matter, and his deep baritone, I heard echoes of Jim Morrison and The Doors. I have no idea how much of an actual influence this was on Campbell. Now, I can hear a ska influence that I was oblivious to at the time. It’s more obvious on earlier Nails recordings, which were not readily available then that I didn’t hear until the last decade or so. My understanding is that the first incarnation of the band, called The Ravers, was much more ska and reggae influenced (and as a footnote, Jello Biafra of the Dead Kennedys was a roadie for The Ravers). The horns were still present on both of the albums I knew, but the overt ska sound had diminished.

Like The Doors, what spoke to me at the time was the lyrics, the sense of romantic poetry, one man using words to wrestle with the darkness. That sort of thing still appeals to me. At the time of my deepest immersion in these albums I was in the second of my serious relationships with one of the women who is certainly on my list of most important in my life. No names, because some of the stories are hers. There’s no way I can condense our relationship into a clever couplet. She was my first friend. Our mothers met when they were in first grade and stayed friends their entire lives. She’s three months older than me and I’m certain we met before I was a week old. As children we were regular playmates, wading in the creek, hiding in her father’s barn, holding hands at the county fair so that kidnappers wouldn’t get us. In high school we drifted apart a little, though our school was too small to drift very far. The year we turned twenty-five we had an intense six month relationship, something we needed to get out of our system. I was all-in at the time, more so than she was I now realize. It ended and we moved on and I’m happy to say there are no regrets, she is still a friend, and someone I count on to be there for me, as I am for her. 

I doubt she even remembers The Nails, but there are songs on Dangerous Dreams that make me think of her every time I hear them. 

Beyond these two seminal albums there’s not a lot of material. The earlier recordings have been released as House of Women. While browsing in a record store in the early 90s I found an album called Corpus Christi, which has some good songs on it but apparently, according to Campbell, due to corporate shenanigans, the band never saw a penny from it. That’s it. There’s not a whole to find on YouTube either, though everything is available on Spotify.

In 2010 Campbell released a solo album called Tantric Machine. I’m not sure if was ever on disc or any major streaming platform, but it’s available on Soundcloud. On it, Campbell continues his obsessions and offers insights into his autobiography. Be warned... there’s far more than a simple F-word to get this banned from radio. Campbell is outspoken and controversial. Tantric Machine is not safe for work, for narrow minds, for the conservative mindset, for the politically correct, or the easily offended. While I may not agree with all of his views – though probably most of them – I applaud the courage and conviction with which he presents them.

I followed Campbell on Facebook, where through a post by his wife, Mirgun, nee Tanya Turkish, I discovered his passing. His posts were, like his albums, brash and outspoken, with a definitive ‟I don’t give a shit what people think of me” attitude. There he would occasionally post stories about The Nails and his experiences with them. There was an occasional post giving more details and insights into many of the 44 women.

Before ending, I want to briefly address something about 88 Lines I’ve wondered about for years. The title is actually a misnomer. There are 89 lines. Kathrine got an extra one. As a follow up to lines about three women who were involved with drugs or alcohol, Campbell sings:

‟Kathrine was much too pretty,

She didn’t do that shit at all.

Un-uh, not Kathrine.”

As far as I know, Campbell never elaborated on Katherine, unless it was before I followed him and I missed it. But somehow, because of this break in the pattern, Katherine always stood out and felt special.

But then, they’re all special. Everybody who has ever come into your life and left a mark is special. That’s the point.

https://youtu.be/9Iwspf5L1Qk?si=nzl_hOAbzc6ow_lj

https://youtu.be/fUENnwUjiOM?si=t1wFGveu392BderK