1978 was the turnaround point. With all his tapes and recorders, he was reborn in a totally different cultural climate, setting up headquarters in a one room attic. Near HP, they both conspired to strengthen the Big Effort. A new disc, STANCE, was released, and then a second album, DELICATE TENSION, was compiled from later Nashville tracks and Jersey recordings. Simultaneously, PHONOGRAPHY was rereleased for public consumption. Slowly but steadily, a cult began to form...

Yet the three records (originally on the H.P. Music label) trickled out across the globe, merely planting seeds for the future. The name R. STEVIE MOORE was often noticed but seldom realized. The small groups of individuals who had grabbed these instant collector's items were in the know and passionate fans. Moore became a reference point for Do-It-Yourself artists, especially the home-in-your-bedroom variety. Yet the trouble was the minute availability of his output.

Another single was released by a company in Hollywood, California called NEW WAVE b/w SAME. It too had a buzzing but quick lifespan...another one-shot effort, trapped in its own unique rarity. And soon afterwards out-of-print. The recordings in New Jersey were multiplying and the style maturing, and though less song-oriented than the early years, the sounds broadened and acquired more punch. Each RSM program possessed a radio-format quality, chock full of variety and very abrupt changes from piece to piece. As always, his construction methods were to fill up a reel chronologically, from beginning to end, without gathering single songs and sequencing them for better effect. When the tape was full and finished, it was time (almost immediately) to start another one. Thus, over a hundred 60 or 90 minute works exist today. It was too easy. And with collector interest in almost everything an artist does, including discovery of dusty old masters in the vaults, Stevie was not about to discard even the worst worthless piece of garbage he had dared to record. It was the ultimate creative drive.

   Another very important influence on the blossoming career he was somehow establishing was the Amateur Syndrome. After over ten years of overkill in popular music, with high techno productions, rock 'n roll bands beginning to repeat themselves and evolve into 3rd, 4th and even 5th generations, hit-single formula-fads totally burning themselves out, the sad concept of discovering a fresh new act only to abhor them after they became successful and downright bland, the public's ignorant obstinance to novel ideas...all of these things naturally pushed Stevie further into his own world. Suddenly, it was a complete circle: bad, raw, amateurish music became his passion. Not only everyman tapes of someone's sister singing or bands who couldn't play their instruments, but old time hillbilly music and 78 rpm noise. A powerful rebellion for such a potential pop tunesmith.


It was around 1981 that a new idea came about. Instead of relying on the latest finished tape to promote himself with, the archives of all previous works were catalogued, and the R. Stevie Moore Cassette Club was born. Over the years those who craved more of this Moore Character were left with no way of getting it, but the club's xeroxed Tapography listed all the tapes, with selected song titles, tape times, and even Listenability Quotient. The Ultimate Joke grew into a send-up of a major record company's roster and catalog; the unknown talent with a collection of more releases than most whole labels! And it worked. Mail order made it possible for fans to erect huge stacks of Stevietapes. What was once impossible was now as easy as the post office. And a couple of dollars.

Still, orders were slow and very select. Tape packaging was improved, yet still very homemade and personal. Sometimes, RSM would even record a special message for the particular purchaser. Musician magazine finally printed the quintessential article on Moore for long awaited mass exposure. The mail requests poured in. Rapidly the tape catalog was expanding, nearly too much so, for new curiosity seekers had a rather intense job of deciding which to try.


Recommended Records (who had distributed the H.P. Music discs in Europe) included Stevie on a UK double album sampler of avant garde rock. Several cassette magazines and samplers grabbed a Moore track or two. He was popping up everywhere and anywhere, worldwide. All of this attention, yet he was still busy making new tapes and dubbing copies for orders, all hand done in real time.

In 1983 much has happened. After the afore mentioned Musician article, R. Stevie Moore was gladly forced out of the closet. He even performed live with a band, to good reviews. The tiny legend is legitimizing itself with this new important potpourri of vintage selections from some of those master tapes. With this French-only release, more thousands of connoisseurs of True originality can get a thorough glimpse into the private innocent world of the Nashville Boy Wonder. Hopefully, someday, the Earth will be pleasantly surprised.

Robert Christgau (SIC)


(and a couple by
Jim Price
Irwin Chusid)


Issue dated 24 March 1984
•••••(Five stars)

"More More Moore"
by Jack Barron

"THAT AIN'T no kinda music.
That's the sound of a sick kid
dying in the bath," drawls an
ancient black dude about
RSM's creative noise during
a street interview included on
this monumental vinyl.
Definitely an amusing way of
capturing a talent more
inspired than the Beatles.

Dumb description is what
it boils down to. "Like Tom
Dolby...but with a sense of
humour," a couple of us
enthused in the editorial
meeting. An easy pop
reference point to gain
maximum review space. Of
course, we lied. True genius
(honestly!) is always worth
deceiving for.

There's 100 minutes of the
American's highly personal
vision of rock in the grooves
of this imaginatively
packaged double elpee affair.
96 are fascinating. The
remaining four---including a
meatball do-over of Slade's
"Mama Weer All Crazee Now"
---are just good.

None of it echoes a sick kid
gurgling in the tub. That
reminds me of a relevant
joke (Mary) recently told me:
what do you do when an
epileptic has a fit in the bath?
Throw your laundry in!

RSM would laugh at that,
and the same sort of nasty wit
grins through songs like the
punky pastiche of "I Hate
People." However, the trails
of genius are many and
we're not dealing with a
mere warpo. The weather,
sticky sex, the holocaust, the
twist, bloody knuckles, love,
revenge---a vast array of
topics assault the listener.

So if he's so skilled, why
isn't his name familiar? Well,
RSM is yer actual cult legend
type. While other artists
whinge about the Biz
between licking the nearest
corporate butt with glee, this
son of Nashville has always
been an outsider.

And that's what you get
here---an outsider's melodic
and lyrical viewpoint
recorded on a couple of reel-
to-reels at home with RSM
playing all the instruments.

Since the early Seventies,
he has experimented in this
classic bedsit manner. He
might have put out a few
records on obscure labels but
his heart remained tied in a
chrome-dioxide bow. And
from '81, RSM's strange
fruits filtered into the world
via his own cassette club.

The present collection
plucks some of the peaches
spawned by RSM in the past
decade. Avant-garde rock, I
suppose you'd call it, but
both compulsive and

There isn't a set style,
rather a sprawl of influences
bent and distorted by the
artist's individuality into odd
shapes. Say one cut mimics
the Chipmunks, the next
parodies David Byrne,
another is an Elvis cover, and
where does that leave the
other 30 offerings?

Somewhere obviously,
RSM is like a black hole
sucking in the cultural
references of white American
pop and spewing out a
hallucination of modern
music. "Everything" is the
most undruggy psychedelic
record I've heard.

New Musical Express (U.K.)
Issue dated 21 April 1984
by Stephen Paynes
WHILE ROCK and roll history was taking place, a strange young man, eccentric in his normality, sat around in the basement of his house in Nashville with a couple of tape recorders. As the "serious" artists went about crafting popular culture, RSM was busy crafting parodies of serious artists, much to the amusement of his friends. Frighteningly prolific, he churned out hundreds of tapes. Before I die, I will hear all of them. This is a selected double album full of eclectic eavesdropping: tales of woe and cold coffee, tales of being bored in the midwest, where the roads never wind.

There are things in this collection I can't even begin to describe but most of the material is a mutant hybrid of Leonard Skynard, a whining Neil Young and Marc Bolan. Snippets of lyrics, sarcastic and full of apathetic drool could qualify Moore as a Tin Pan Alley version of Frank Zappa: "I'm tired of living this way/might as well take some dope, lots of it/where are the pills?"

Admittedly some of this is true garbage, carelessly unfinished like half-eaten frozen TV dinners. But some of it is brilliant. There is one tune entitled "Adult Tree" which has one of the tastiest bass, tin can and distorted guitar interplays on the face of this earth. There is a certain edge to Moore's sound which warms the gut and pokes fun at the danger of hanging by the heart over the edge of a riff. For those who grew up watching Heinz "pasketti" and meatballs commercials and eating Twinkies, this is pure nostalgia. For those who didn't, welcome to packaged pleasure.

May 4, 1984
RETAIL Best Sellers

Montclair, N.J.

RUSH, Grace Under Pres-

Love Wars
The Gap

thing You Always Wanted To
Know About R. Stevie Moore
But Were Afraid To Ask


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NEW 35
A 3-song single was culled from the album,

more info


Artist's Rare One-Of-A-Kind Acetate

(Label image)


Concert poster
Live at 120 Nuits
Paris, Friday 18 May 1984





" T H E   E N D "



2017 Official 2CD Reissue, Cordelia (UK)
Order www.cordeliarecords.co.uk/Pages/Buy%20Records.html


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