For the uninitiated, New Hampshire-ite Austin Wiggins, Jr., a tyrannical sort by all accounts, took it upon himself to form a band out of his daughters Dot, Helen and Betty, naming the band after the popular hairstyle of the era. This meant buying the guitars and drums, paying for their lessons and releasing an album very shortly thereafter, while, in his own words, “they were still hot.” The result? The now classic Philosophy of the World, which most famously caught Frank Zappa’s attention first, then only continued to grow in popularity as time progressed. Only 100 of the original 1,000 copies pressed ever rotated—Charlie Dreyer, Fremont’s own sleazeball, recorded the Wiggins sisters on his Third World Records, then disappeared into obscurity with the other 900—but reissues and compilations have since appeared (thanks, Rounder!), and the Shaggs are allowed an audience all over again.
That’s not the most interesting part of the story, however, not by a long shot. In listening to Philosophy, the most striking aspect is that the girls don’t seem to know how to sing at all. They attempt to do so with accents on occasion and, for the most part, fail horribly at it. The Shaggs barely hold to any sense of rhythm and its rampant up-and-down fluctuations all over the scale sound like nothing else recorded in 1969 (or today, for that matter), predating the garage band sound by at least a decade, possibly more. Still, despite the naysayers who shout “Turn it off!” there’s some beauty born in the Shaggs’ struggling.
On one hand, they’ve a father who probably likened band practice to the drudgery of cleaning their room—just another chore they had to complete before they could go out to play. On the other, the three sisters (four if you count Rachel, who joined later on bass) cut some of the most clear-eyed views of childhood that exist; songs that herald the roles of parents, proclaim the healing powers of “a Savior” and pay homage to imaginary pets (“My Pal Foot Foot”). And “I’m So Happy When You’re Near” is one of the sweetest, greatest, most completely stilted love songs ever. So many words get crammed into its two minutes, it’s 2-for-the-price-of-1 action here, and lyrics like “I know it had to be/ I know it can’t be changed/ Other times I think that we are completely insaaaane” are included absolutely free! Still, for the promise they do show, their only other contribution to society was a regular gig at the Town Hall on Saturday nights, playing dances. When their dad died in 1975, so did the band. A compilation, The Shaggs’ Own Thing was released later.
It’s the endearing aspects of the group, then, that probably allowed this tribute album to come about. Better Than the Beatles: A Tribute to the Shaggs lends some polish and sandpaper to what the Shaggs did a wonderful imperfect job of in the first place. It starts out with a form of new age nugget, Ida offering some reverence to “Philosophy of the World” as it comes across in a complete ethereal manner, awash in the drones of an accordion and the tinkling of chimes. When the singing finally does begin (“Well the rich people want what the poor people’s got …”), it’s a beautiful completion and, as such, is one of the most fully realized tracks in the lot.
Artists go completely one way or the other here, either with strict devotion to tapping into what The Shaggs did first, or by offering their own personal touches. Something is definitely lost playing things out in the former instance, however. When Joost Visser does an acoustic “It’s Halloween,” he’s more an echo of the past than anything, minus the Shaggs brand of sweetness; while good and enjoyable, one gets the feeling he’s straining to mimic more than interpret. But, adversely, when Bauer adds its dose of bubblegum to “We Have A Savior,” a discovery is made in the process. While the words remain the same—showing off just how prolific Dot’s songwriting skills are, in that they don’t sound dated in the least—adding melody, a Casio keyboard and strains of what strikes of “Hot Fun in the Summertime” allows to peel back an extra layer of joy the Shaggs never quite got to. It’s this same approach that allows Mongrell to take “My Cutie” to new dimensions. Then again, it could just be the fact their voices blend so damn well. And Deefhoof’s quasi-electronic take on “My Pal Foot Foot” is merely an extension of what the Shaggs were able to put across in its herky-jerky style of singing. (In fact, the original sounds more mechanically-produced than this one, to the Wiggins’ credit.)
It seems the eclectic group of artists (and that’s putting it lightly!) gathered for this album each had their favorite songs heading into the project. Of the 13 mini-homages, three get done twice by different artists. There’s plenty of to pick from in the Shaggs Big Bin ‘o Tunes, to be sure, and double doses of “You’re Something Special to Me” and “Who Are Parents” smells strongly of overkill. If the Furtips and The Double U had never been invited to the party, it’s unlikely there’d be much complaining heard. Still, all in all, it’s some kind of amazing that this sort of a tribute album was made period, considering the audience is still fairly vast that has not heard the original songs before. Couple that mentality with several indie bands that ring of the even more obscure—Slot Racer or Plastic Mastery, anyone?—and that’s a parallel not often found in the world of tribute. Take that, Cleopatra!
