Yes. No Skips is back again for more coverage of past music releases that have near-flawless consistency. This week, Linda Perhacs’ “Parallelograms” is what we’ll be talking about, since the album has discourse revolving around it these days, thankfully. I celebrate that fact because it was a relatively obscure release for decades following its debut in 1970, unfortunately.
People who are cynical about the music industry these days should hear Perhacs’ story. She managed to make an impression on Leonard Rosenman, a composer of “Beneath the Planet of the Apes,” which was also released in 1970, among other popular films. He produced this album, yet it commercially flopped, and due to the involved process of releasing music at the time through labels, she just stopped instead of making it a side gig. She was likely fine financially due to her occupation as a dental hygienist, but it makes one imagine how many more records like “Parallelograms” we could’ve received. Granted, she did release two records in the 2010s after this one started to gain traction online; still, this story isn’t a one-off occurrence, as you’ll see next week on “No Skips.”
People had more of an attention span back then than they do now, but it’s understandable if listeners from either era glazed over the first track, “Chimacum Rain.” Its layered vocal harmonies are intriguing, namely when she states, “The silences, I mean / They kinda wrap around you,” as her vocals do exactly that, though the track gets the listener accustomed to what’s to come. “Paper Mountain Man” is a radical change of pace in the context of the whole album, considering it’s one of two tracks that are too engaging to sleep to, in my opinion. Her cadence in the verses holds a certain mystique while, in the chorus, it wouldn’t have been farfetched for her to start yodeling. The harmonica adds to the “Wild West” vibe, as it can be presumed she’s lived in California her whole life.
The third track, “Dolphin,” is smooth and graceful like the animal’s movements. Some people may argue dolphins sound delightful, though I’d rather listen to Linda Perhacs. She majestically claims to “want to feel the speed / And the pulse of moving / Of going away.” The melody is easy to latch onto and is backed by simple guitar strumming, culminating into one of the best tracks on the record. “Call of the River” revolves around the refrain: “Come away, and follow me,” while the instrumentation and style remains largely the same as “Dolphin.”
“Sandy Toes” has a solid bassline while Perhacs does her thing, her vocals seamlessly blending into the background. The tune actually sounds like a Hawaiian record from the same era, the self-titled debut from another one-off band, These Trails. The title track may be the most minimal track so far, though the song structure is quite interesting. The mid-section of the song removes all instruments besides some bells and Perhacs humming and whispering, only for it to loop back around, creating an infinite loop of sorts. It’s an ethereal moment that makes the track do more besides share its title with the album’s name.
The following “Hey, Who Really Cares” is by far the most popular on the album, so much so that producers on The Notorious B.I.G.’s album “Life After Death” used the track as a sample. Biggie tragically passed away when that album was being released, so he likely had a say in that sample’s usage as well. Around that time in the late ‘90s is when “Parallelograms” grew more popular; I’m unsure if there’s a correlation there but that’s the case. “Moons and Cattails” is hypnotic in its juxtaposition of tranquility with defiant moments in the vocals, including the end of the line “Back to damp nights,” where she harps on the final syllable like a snake hissing.
“Morning Colors” is more of the same, yet Perhacs incorporates flute and saxophone played by John Neufield, as well as a cool alternation between higher and lower vocal registers, sometimes in between lines. The second to last track, “Porcelain Baked-Over-Cast-Iron Wedding,” further innovates Perhacs’ sound in this short album, this being the other song that is a bit too up-tempo to fall asleep to. It’s honestly easy to get lost in the music and forget when this album was recorded, though lines like, “Pass the champagne, will you please? / And let’s get on with the next social squeeze” manage to date the songwriting a little. Finally, “Delicious” mirrors “Dolphin” in thriving off gentle guitar strumming to show off Perhacs’ incredible voice.
The main contemporary attraction to the record is Perhacs’ singing which I cannot do justice in writing. Thankfully, the 81-year-old is still with us, and although I’m sure she made a damn good dental hygienist, she wasn’t able to further pursue a music career in the 20th century due to “Parallelograms” being an undeserved commercial failure. Nevertheless, I hope she can grasp the number of listeners from a future generation her music has touched, especially one in which music has become increasingly digitized. She and Rosenman’s raw approach to song creation is much appreciated since her voice needs no embellishments to sound perfect. Less is more here.