Not Available

UNCLE WILLIE'S HIGHLY OPINIONATED GUIDE TO THE RESIDENTS

This, the second album recorded by the Residents, is perhaps the most hauntingly beautiful of all their albums. Its was bounded by the “Theory of Obscurity” and “could only be released when the creators themselves had completely forgotten about its existence.”

For whatever reasons, the album was eventually released four years later. Some have complained that this release was blasphemous and that the theory should have been respected. Let me assure you that no crime was committed. The lyrics are heavily veiled in an acoustic and linguistic gauze. Sometimes there is rhyme, and sometimes there is reason. There are times at which we catch glimpses of these lyrics through the veil, however their meaning tends to speak more directly to the soul, and for the most part are not available to the analytical mind. When listening to this album, one realizes that its obscurity remains fully intact.

The music is full of many rich and varied themes. Its juxtaposition of the sad, the beautiful, and the unusual, creates deep emotional currents that with proper navigation will lead you to interesting places. There is an innocence about this album that lays aside all pretense and bears open their soul.

We hear a hypnotic mesh of percussion, strings, horns, and voices. We find ourselves carried upon waves of unfamiliarity which lead us to seductive places where female voices and pianos sweetly wonder about the blooming of posies. There are also places of loneliness as felt in these words:

The sentence existing inside of a rhyme, is only just a token left spoken in time.

In “The Making of a Soul” there exists a most beautiful and delicately played piano passage. It sounds as though they were playing on their grandmother’s seldom used piano in the basement while she was away. Later, lamenting strings join in with the piano, and a peculiar person shows up with some questions that are guaranteed to shake you up.

We make our way through the turbulent “Ship’s A’Going Down”, spiraling ever downward, descending into the whimpering depths from which there appears to be no return, until at last we find ourselves with “Never Known Questions”. A lush resting place.

When you look into the emotions contained in the music on this album, they speak clearly, and there is no question of obscurity. This album is simultaneously sad, happy, and beautiful. Particularly as found in its climactic conclusion. Grandma’s sad and innocent piano reappears and after a valiant attempt at trying to communicate the passage of calling cards and winking bards and falling guards, there is a certain feeling of resignation as we find ourselves, along with The Residents, throwing up our hands and saying “OK”.

An angelic farewell march fades in and takes over while the singing continues in time with the new music. “OK, OK”. There is a sense of finality and acceptance. As the march continues to play, another refrain emerges.

To exist to show, or to be shown? Is a question never, never known.

As the music slowly fades out, so do the lyrics. They leave us, receding faintly, with the words “to exist ... to exist”. The music is sad because it is time to say farewell, as we all must do someday. It is happy, for having had the chance to exist. And it is beautiful, because it is.

- David Willenbrink


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A1 Edweena
A2 The Making Of A Soul
B1 Ship's A' Going Down
B2 Never Known Questions
B3 Epilogue

While there are a million stories about The Residents, one of the more intriguing concerns the recording of their second LP, Not Available. Early in the career of the band, the "theory of obscurity" was introduced to them by the German avant-guardist, N. Senada. The plan called for the creation of complete projects that were literally not intended to be heard by anyone other than its creators. The Residents realized the truth in this ideal: that music really was difficult to record without considering the audience. They thought the experience gained by completing such a project would prove worthwhile toward achieving an independent attitude toward music. N. Senada had also been quick to point out that such a project reduces the amount of artistic clutter that is quickly swallowing the planet.
Not Available was completed in 1974 and stored. Several years later, in 1978, The Residents were severely over schedule on their opus, Eskimo. The final release deadline set by the record company arrived only to find that The Residents had fled to Europe and taken Eskimo with them. In desperation, the record company pulled Not Available from the masters room and released it. Surprisingly, The Residents were not upset by this fact since it in no way violated their original intent. Eventually Eskimo was retrieved from the bank vault in London but, ...well... that's another story.


The first pressing (5000 copies) suffered from an audible blemish in the recording on side two during "Ship's A' Going Down", and most of these records were recalled and destroyed.There are, however, several hundred copies still in existence;they are identified by purple record labels and the matrix 1174 B Re 1 on side two. Second pressings (which have orange labels - 10,000 copies) and later (wich have green record labels) have the matrix 1174 B Re 3 and do not suffer this pressing defect.


Concentrate

Bach Is Dead

Lyrics

"This record is issued at the discretion of Ralph Records and The Cryptic Corp. The characters and events portrayed are fictional and do not represent either The Residents or other persons, living or dead."