“Beyond Today: Live At The Farm San Francisco 1986 (Liberation Hall Records)
By Eleni P. Austin
Have you ever heard a song on the radio that was so great that you needed to pull the car over just to give it your full attention? That happened to me when I was 19, driving on the 101, returning from my former Hollywood hometown to my current hometown in the desert.
I was barreling down the freeway (going the speed limit, no, really), switching from the 101 to the 10. It’s a tricky interchange, as any Angeleno can confirm. My radio dial was locked on to one station in those days, 106.7, KROQ (Rock Of The ‘80s!) Just as “I Ran” from A Flock Of Seagulls was receding, a jangly guitar riff began to assert itself, piquing my interest. As the track unfurled, I was trying to figure out who it was (a new Plimsouls song?), when the insistent chorus hit: “Cause that’s impossible, that’s im…that’s impossible, that’s imposs…that’s impossible, that’s im-poss-i-ble,” Shit! I pulled over as soon as possible to give my full attention to my new favorite song, “Everywhere That I’m Not” by Translator.
In 1979, Translator began life in L.A. as a Punky trio Singer-songwriter Steve Barton, who fronted his first band at 11, and his pal, drummer Dave Scheff began playing together, and after cycling through a series of bassists, they recruited Dave’s Santa Cruz friend, Larry Dekker. They gigged around a bit, but their line-up truly coalesced when they poached vocalist/guitarist Robert Darlington from another local band, The Lies. As the L.A. scene was beginning to feel more aggro, ‘ they relocated to San Francisco.
Connecting with local producer David Kahne, they recorded a demo of “Everywhere That I’m Not,” that began receiving airplay on KUSF radio. They quickly signed with the emerging indie label 415 (as in four-one-five, San Francisco’s area code, as well as the penal code for disturbing the peace).
Home to Punk and New Wave bands, including The Offs, The Units, Pearl Harbour And The Explosions, The Nuns and Romeo Void, the label had just inked a distribution deal with Columbia Records. Translator’s 1982 debut, Heartbeats And Triggers, benefitted from this new arrangement. “Everywhere…” was the album’s first single, and it quickly garnered airplay on radio stations like KROQ and 91.X. Their hooky, guitar-driven sound stood out in a sea of shiny Synth-Pop acts like Soft Cell, Human League and Talk Talk.
Over the next four years, the four-piece recorded three more stellar records, No Time Like Now, Translator, and Evening Of The Harvest. Sadly, critical acclaim and a passionate fan base didn’t guarantee commercial success. At that point, Hair Metal and fluffy hits like a-ha’s “Take On Me” were ruling the airwaves. So, the band amicably called it quits in 1986.
In the ensuing years, Steve, Dave, Larry and Robert continued to make music professionally, toggling between solo projects and bands like Oblivion Click, Bang Bang Men and Teatro ZinZanni. Translator has reunited periodically, most notably at SXSW in 2006 and a sold-out show at Slim’s in San Francisco in 2009. Three years later, they returned to the recording studio and released their fifth long-player, Big Green Lawn. In 2015 later they assembled Sometimes People Forget, a collection of demos recorded between 1979 and 1986. Now the cool kids at Liberation Hall Records have combed the vaults and released Beyond Today: Live At The Farm San Francisco 1986, a document of their very last show.
The set opens tentatively with the low key “Beyond Today.” Guitars whinge and grind across brittle bass lines and a stutter-step beat. Steve’s melancholy vocals wrap around lyrics that offer an elegy for today, even as they anticipate tomorrow: “Let’s look around, our situation, my head is filled with thoughts colliding, it’s time to move in some direction beyond today-beyond today.” On the break, a tangled guitar solo mirrors the lyrical equivocation. A lesser band might have opened with a flashier number, but these guys knew their fans were primed for the bitter and the sweet, on this final, farewell gig.
Still, Steve readily reassures the crowd, insisting “We’ll get to all of them,” before diving headfirst into three tracks off the beloved Heartbeats And Triggers debut. “Necessary Spinning” takes them back to their Punky beginnings as scattershot guitar riffs are matched by whizzing bass lines and a piledriving beat. Lyrics unspool the rules to a childhood game: “Well, I remember when we used to play a game, take you by the hand and spin you very fast, mid-spin, let you go, stop yourself, into statues, freeze the frame,” punctuated by the urgent Cri de Coeur: “Sometimes I wish that I was nine years old again, sometimes I wish that I was nine years old again.” Everything oscillates wildly on the break, cacophonous guitars swivel between gyrating bass lines and an accelerated batter-ram beat, running parallel to the lyrical angst. Somehow, the calibrated chaos stops on a dime.
The band deftly pivots to “Everywhere.” A stately, mid-tempo number that is anchored by chiming guitars, tensile bass lines and a chunky backbeat. Call-and-response vocals allow Robert to take the lead, as Steve, Dave and Larry finish his thoughts: “It’s only at this moment (I feel my breathing), I was a different sentence (that sent you running), along this silent water (I hear you breathing), the blood’s my partner (under such pressure).” The band’s choirboy harmonies wash over the chorus: “There is nothing to do tonight, there is nothing to say tonight, there is no one to be tonight, it’s my memory escaping in too many strange directions, and the mirror of our eyes throwing daggers and suspicion, everywhere, everywhere.” The tough-minded bridge folds into the break, as buzzy and bendy guitars collide.
Meanwhile, a wily bass line signals the start of “Nothing Is Saving Me.” Flange-y guitars flicker and feedback atop a tinkling hi-hat splash, extending the instrumental intro and locking into a modal groove. As the rhythm revs and guitars become positively cyclonic, Steve’s keening vocals are tinged with desperation: “You twist your tourniquets, I dig through the rubble, we know the Generals are gonna have us all blown to hell, Hell, if we’ll let them! Nothing is saving me.” Ebbing and flowing, the song builds to a howling crescendo before collapsing in a sweaty, sodden heap.
In a live setting, Translator allowed themselves to stretch out and experiment, a couple of tracks here drill down on on that spirit of adventure. “New Song,” originally off their eponymous third album sprawls magnificently. Dense and opaque, thudding drums crash over vroom-y bass lines and biting guitar riffs. Steve’s vocals are slurry and sepulchral as cryptic lyrics like “I can see a sleeping face, I can hear a sizzling fuse, there is love and there is hate, many faces we will choose,” blur the line between heartbreak and stalkery. Incendiary guitars ignite on the break as a tom-tom beat and loping bass harness the low end. Rather quickly, the tempo speed-shifts, whipping up into a cyclonic maelstrom. Hypnotic and Hendrix-ian guitars round the final turn before powering down to a lone guitar that quietly picks out the melody to enthusiastic applause.
When a song is labelled “Drum Solo/Puzzles/Favorite Drug,” it’s clear that the band is prepared to take no prisoners. Dave unleashes a drum salvo with power and precision that never veers into percussive onanism. It acts as an overture for the unreleased track, “Puzzles.” Something of a Prog-Rock riddle, it’s primarily fueled by a blitzkrieg beat, prickly bass and a hornet’s nest of guitars. It’s a surprising stylistic 180 for a band whose signature sound was a fusion of Merseybeat, Power Pop, Punk and Psychedelia, but they manage to stick the landing. The segue is less than seamless (and that’s part of the fun of a live show). But they manage to flip the thematic switch, lurching into the primitive cool of “Favorite Drug.” Spiky guitars, nervy bass lines and a jittery beat line up perfectly with twitchy lyrics like “I’m tearing my hair out, I’m watching the weather change, my thoughts are like spiders, they catch me in their web, I’m living on shadows, on cracks on promises, and I know that I don’t know what is my favorite drug.” Rapid-fire riffs underscore every anguished “OHHH, Ohhh, oh, oh” that punctuate each verse.
The live set’s best songs are a testament to Translator’s elastic sense of songcraft. “Gravity” is a kinetic Rocker that weds pealing guitars and boinging bass to a propulsive beat. Stacked vocals cloak lyrics that yearn for that Love Supreme: “Your world is spinning through my head, your gravity won’t let me go, you’re holding me together, no one ever has to know, I’m a dream and you’re fading away.” Slashing guitars blast through the break, amping up this joyful noise.
Conversely, on “O’ Lazurus,” twangy guitars and hop-a-long bass lines are tethered to a galloping gait, shifting toward a Roots Rock/Cow Punk sound. Robert and Steve’s vocals entwine, as lyrics seem to be looking a bit of emotional rescue: “Now she’s sitting in the window, gray between the stairs and shadow, caught in time where I can’t touch her, like everyone before her, voices calling from the mirror, but I turn and no one’s there, living in this dream that’s not over, living in this world of never, O Lazurus, rise from the dead.”
Then there’s “Standing In Line,” even though it’s the opening cut on their final record, it displays a feral energy that returns Translator to their Punktastic origins. Marauding guitars brush up against prowling bass lines, as Dave pounds out a tribal tattoo. Jettisoning the usual lovelorn lassitude, the lyrics take aim at the mercenary mendacity that began to take hold in the ‘80s: “The people on top just let us down, screw our faces in the ground, the people on the bottom just try to stand up, but they’re tied to the mast of a sinking ship.” Despite the societal tsuris, the soaring harmonies of the chorus offer a bit of cosmic exhale, before returning to the mosh pit mayhem. On the break, staccato guitar riffs, throbbing bass and a breakneck beat are eclipsed by a smokin’ harmonica solo. It’s a rollicking rave-up that’s the highlight of the set.
A final trio of tracks ushers the show to a close. “These Old Days” is another offering from the Evening Of The Harvest album. Anthemic guitar chords ring out over angular bass and a hopscotch beat. Lyrics offer up a pledge, an oath of sorts to protect relationships and persevere: “Like a shield-an emblem, a family tree I trace, the love I feel for you is something time cannot erase, shackled to a ship that’s sailing far away from here, the waves that pull you out to sea will also bring you near/How we run through the labyrinth, how we crawl through the maze, how we search the puzzles in our eyes, to seize the keys to our destinies, these old days.”
Finally, the familiar rat-a-tat-tat beat is countered by the jangly cluster of chords and lanky bass lines that signify the cutting and sublime “Everywhere That I’m Not.” The crowd simply erupts as Steve’s blasé delivery attempts to camouflage the ache: “I thought I felt your touch, in my car and on my clutch, but I guess it was just someone who felt a lot like I remember you do.” But, each successive verse ratchets up the tension as this elusive girl seems to haunt his waking hours. It’s a faithful take, but there are a couple of wig-out moments that feel like a well-deserved victory lap. A boisterous rendition of the Chuck Berry classic “Roll Over Beethoven” feels like a feverish tribute to The Fab Four and the Father Of Rock and Roll. Pedal-to-the-metal guitars are bookended by search-and-destroy bass and a locomotive backbeat. It’s sincere and shambolic in all the right ways. A perfect finish to a killer show.
But the album doesn’t end there. Over the last couple years, the band has collaborated on at least two new songs, “These Days To Come” and “With Your Dreams,” and they’re included here. The former is powered by a jackrabbit beat, caroming bass lines and guitars that ricochet through the mix. The kinetic arrangement is juxtaposed by autumnal, introspective lyrics: “You can crawl into the dust, you can vanish into space, but when you look into your mirror, it’s the same old place/You can live for money, you can live for love, just keep adding to the pile, but there never is enough.” Time signatures shift on the bridge ahead of a soaring guitar solo. Nearly half a century in, the harmonies remain high and tight, and a squally guitar outro reaffirms their Punk Rock bona fides.
The latter ends the record on an ambivalent note. Shimmery guitars, agile bass and a tambourine shake are wed to a ramshackle beat. Arcane lyrics navigate that rocky precipice that Jimi Hendrix once characterized as Love Or Confusion: “All the blood in my veins has memorized your name, all the words we never said come screaming through my head, now it seems I close my eyes with your dreams/Trying to find a place never seen, on a road never taken to go there, how we run when the sun falls between forever and nowhere.” Dissonant guitars on the break give way to a sitar-ffic solo. Both tracks offer an intriguing taste of things to come.
Nearly 40 years ago, Translator opted to call it quits, but they definitely went out with a bang. Beyond Today: Live At The Farm San Francisco 1986, is a deft display of the band’s live prowess. It’s also a reminder of their protein songwriting, which is equal parts muscular and melancholy. This record simply crackles with authority. Hopefully Translator haven’t finished telling their story.
