Almost to the fortieth issue mark, and those Giant Robot Mag folks are showing no signs of slowin' down. Not a grey hair in sight, from what we can see (mind you they're in L.A. while we're here in SF, and admittedly our eyesight isn't bionic). In recent years they've increasingly drawn their subject matter from the latter half of their subtitle (it's 'Asian Pop Culture And Beyond', by the way), but that hasn't deterred the GR devotees. Head honchos Eric Nakamura and Martin Wong like cool stuff, and like to share their latest faves and interests with their readers. Issue #39 features their Giant Robot Awards for 2005, artist Souther Salazar, fimmaker Kiyoshi Kurosawa, king cobra fights (yes, that means the actual snakes, not the beer or its drinkers), skateboarder Daewon Song, and their usual plethora of reviews covering all sorts of music, books and other neat treats. Psst, will someone please get us one of those Domokun photo holders? Sooo rad! FYI: As of next year, the mag will be going bi-monthly... that means six issues instead of twelve.
Congratulations and bestest wishes to Giant Robot co-captain Martin Wong on his recent nuptual-ization! Whoo hoo! But the extracurricular excitement hasn't slowed down the production of his and Eric Nakamura's great Asian pop culture mag (nor that of their stores nor their restaurant)! This month we have heaping helpings of killer toys, comix, drawings as well as book reviews, record reviews, a trip to the South Pole, the paintings of Rachell Sumpter (one of which adorns the cover), a look at killer NY based Reed Space design and boutique, Asian American film fests, SooYoung Park of Seam and Bitch Magnet, boy bands in Hong Kong, the cool and creepy artwork of Louie Cordero, an interview with legendary tattoo artist Ed Hardy, Japanese toy auctions and more and more and more!!!!
Newest issue of one of our favorite magazines around. Music and toys and food and shows and records and clothes all with a distinctly and uniquely Asian American bent. This time around: a guided tour of modern Manilla, how to start your own boy band, Ugly Dolls!, an interview with director Ronny Yu, an interview with LOUDNESS!!! and tones of reviews and fiction and comics and cool little bits of trivia, and sidebars about random edibles and buyables and oh my, just one of the most fun to read magazines EVER!
Just in time for the chill in weather we are feeling right now, it's a new set of ultra warm and cozy tunes from the always dependable Howe Gelb. His latest Giant Sand outing is so hitting the spot on these wintry days, with songs perfect for sitting by the fire, drinking some bourbon, and swapping stories with close friends. The album sinks in right away with the kind of intimacy and southwest charm that Gelb is so masterful at evoking. Blurry Blue Mountain covers so much of the terrain that Giant Sand have explored in their long wonderful career. From the subtle and seductive to the all out twang filled rockers. Fans of Smog, Johnny Cash, and Townes Van Zandt will find so much to love here, and if for some reason Giant Sand has slipped under your radar over the years this is a great time to jump into their wonderful world of warm honest sound.
Fifteen new songs from the pen of Howe Gelb (and one by the late Rainer Ptacek, to whom this album is dedicated) make up this, the newest full length from Giant Sand. Yet another band whom we've not heard from in quite a while. Oh certainly, there's been a veritable plethora of side projects and solo efforts from John Convertino, Joey Burns, and Mr. Gelb, but y'know it's just not the same. The fine tracks here were recorded in three cities - Tucson, Memphis and New York - with a giant list of guests, instruments and toys. Produced by Howe Gelb, Kevin Salem, Jim Dickinson, and John Parish.
On "Cover Magazine" the follow up to the wonderful "Chore Of Enchantment" from 2000 (and the beautiful recent reissue of OP8's "Slush"), Howe Gelb, he of the ever-severe countenance, takes a slightly different path and is joined by an illustrious gathering
Giant Sand are probably most well know for featuring the rhythm section of John Convertino and Joey Burns, who left to form aQ beloved Calexico, and who would end up becoming WAY more popular than Giant Sand. But they are so much more than that, and so much of their music directly informed the sound of Calexico.
This reissue celebrates 25 years of Giant Sand, and is part of a comprehensive reissue of all the GS records. Glum, originally released back in 1994, was many folks first exposure to the band, which was a bit ironic considering it was their ELEVENTH album, but it was their first for a big label, and their first with a big budget, but none of that did anything to temper the group's experimental proclivities and difficult sonic tendencies, which is precisely why it might just be thee best. Sand mastermind Howe Gelb gathered up everyone who had ever played with them in the past and assembled what was essentially a Giant Sand big band. And the band set out to make Glum.
For those who have never heard Giant Sand before, as we mentioned before there's definitely a line that can be drawn from Calexico, the same sort of deserty shuffle, a dark countryish twang, but with Gelb's super distinctive drawl, and cool distorted guitar playing, like a warped Neil Young, blasts of gnarled psychedelia or bursts of squealing feedback erupting from the most tranquil of tracks. Just check out the title track, which is definitely one of our favorites, a dark twangy shuffle, Gelb crooning over muted minor key fingerpicking, and whirring organ, a sort of slowcore country, but then bam, the sharp crack of a snare, and some super distorted angular riffing, very Marc Ribot like in fact, which becomes a warm wash of chords, only to fade out again leaving that original dark shuffle.
"Yer Ropes" is more of a rocker, and could have bit a hit in some alternate universe, the sound lush and warm, the guitars thick and fuzzy, the drums muscly, and Gelb's voice sounding better than ever.
This whole record is just magical, and the family/big band vibe of Giant Sand is evident everywhere, from the sweet vocals of Victoria Williams, the oh so sweet "Bird Song", written and sung by Gelb's daughter, in a bid to prolong her bedtime, with Gelb adding some creepy chords, and the family pitching in on drums and bass, or the heartbreaking version of "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry", a gorgeous version sung by long time GS collaborator Pappy Allen, who passed away, soon after, featuring both his wife and daughter on backup vocals, and it's those sorts of songs, that most bands would leave off the record proper, that so defined Giant Sand's idiosyncratic approach to music making, one born of a seemingly pure love for, and joy in, creating, in singing and playing and performing, and that totally seeps into every note, every song, and every sound here.
The rest of the songs on Glum are just as great, the band getting heavy and distorted as often as hushed and melancholic, the songs peppered with strange sampled sounds, lush layers, whatever they could think of, all woven into something special and unique, their sound falling somewhere between Sparklehorse, Uncle Tupelo, Neil Young, Calexico and other similar country rockers, but there's something about Giant Sand that is utterly unlike any of the others. Which is probably why they never really got super popular. But then that's probably also exactly why we love them, and this record in particular, so much.
This reissue tacks on six extra songs, that sound like they could have come from the same sessions, and if that is indeed the case, it's kind of hard to figure out why they were left off, cuz they're pretty goddang great, beautiful and strange, like the band itself. Also included is new liner notes written by Gelb, about the making of the record, the songs, and what all was going on with GS way back in 1994.
We've said it before and we'll say it again... Mr. Howe Gelb is an admirably freewheeling music maker. His newest album under his longstanding band moniker Giant Sand is another prime example of this. The title is the most a propo to date! He truly follows his every whim, revisiting older songs he's done in the past, and bringing many of his musical friends and relatives along for the ride. Unlike past works that had a tendency to frequently veer into somewhat puzzling/alienating territories, IAOTM is more cohesive, warm and engaging (the female backing vocals help a lot) while still maintaining his roaming unpredictability. The new Giant Sand band incarnation includes skilled craftsmen Anders Pedersen (on lapsteel, electric slide mandolin and guitar), Thoger T. Lund (on upright and electric bass), Peter Dombernowsky (on percussion and drums) and John Parish (on drums, mellotron and national guitar, and who also co-produced the album with Gelb). Plus this time you can look forward to a guest appearance by Vic Chesnutt! Gelb redoes "Crackling Water" from the Slush album by OP8 (his collaboration with John and Joey of Calexico with Lisa Germano on vocals - excellent!). The OP8 version is pretty damn fine and hard to beat, but his new one with Marie Frank on vocals comes pretty close. Hurrah for Howe!
It's been a few years, Mr. Gelb, we've sure missed you! Your new album is absolutely wonderful, and not just because you've got Neko Case, M. Ward and Isobel Campbell on board this time around... although that definitely sweetens the deal!
Each of the thirteen songs slowly unwinds in the dusk hour shadows with the ever enigmatic Gelb occasionally bringing to mind a southwest desert sun-baked Leonard Cohen. While he definitely pulls out a few classic Giant Sand twangy eccentric yarns (particularly late in the album - "Belly Full Of Fire" and "Saturated Beyond Repair"), overall Provisions seems to be his most mellow, straightforwardly melodic and song structured work to date. Even when he drifts off into the downright cryptic and bizarre, the raw emotion and poetry of his music somehow still speaks straight to the heart. Some of the album's best moments feature are the most bare bones with just voice and piano ("Spiral"). Wow. You might recall the short lived superb collaboration that took place many years ago between Gelb, Lisa Germano, and Calexico's Joey Burns and John Convertino. OP8 was its name, and Slush was the title of their amazing album (it's still one of Cup's all time top faves!). Of any of the albums that the individual artists have released since, this new Giant Sand full length comes the closest to capturing that magic (albeit with different parties involved).
And attention all you new Calexico fans picking up the latest album from those fellow Arizonans, time for a little history lesson! Burns and Convertino were members of Giant Sand prior to forming Calexico. If you haven't checked GS out yet, you are missing out! Some early GS albums may initially seem impenetrably strange and more of an acquired taste, but you don't wanna miss this album!
Most certainly highly recommended!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Italian post-rock on Zum. Very beautiful, exercising on the same treadmills as Slint, the Dirty Three, and more recently Mogwai and God Speed You Black Emperor.
Now at last, Beth Gibbons' solo debut gets a domestic release (so it's a little cheaper) AND it's got some bonus stuff for you slowpokes/cheapskates who didn't get the import. Yeah, isn't life like that? Bonus tracks and video clips for those who wait... (Specifically, Lou Reed's "Candy Says" done live and a video for "Mysteries".) Anyway, it's a great record, here's what we said about the import:
Here it is, the highly anticipated album from the voice of Portishead - Ms Beth Gibbons! Much like such artists as Joni Mitchell or Leonard Cohen, Gibbons possesses a timeless, immensely affecting voice that exists outside of passing fancies and dated trends. Out Of Season dispells any question of that, presenting a very different -perhaps more accessible- backdrop than that of Portishead, but a no less dramatic and fitting one. The former embodies a mysterious, complex and haunting otherworldliness, the latter is much more familiar, folkish and earthbound. But who is Rustin Man with whom Ms Gibbon's is collaborating, you might ask? Why he is the alter ego of her friend Paul Webb (formerly of Talk Talk). And we should also note the presence throughout this album of her Portishead comrade Adrian Utley in both performance and production mode. A great line-up, indeed. Grand orchestral, big band and cabaret arrangements sit well beside more minimal instrumentations and Gibbons conveying her trademark deepest of despairs chameleons gracefully into the changing landscapes. This is apparent very early on with the expansive John Barry-esque lushness of "Tom The Model". Following that number is the sparsely beautiful "Show" with its assembly of cello, flute, double bass and piano, and a vocal performance that echoes the emotional brittleness of Chet Baker's "My Funny Valentine". While she still often stirs up those Shirley Bassey-esque inflections as she did in Portishead, in our opinion, she's at her best without them. Refined and elegant. Recommended.
Here it is, the highly anticipated album from the voice of Portishead - Ms Beth Gibbons! Much like such artists as Joni Mitchell or Leonard Cohen, Gibbons possesses a timeless, immensely affecting voice that exists outside of passing fancies and dated trends. Out Of Season dispells any question of that, presenting a very different -perhaps more accessible- backdrop than that of Portishead, but a no less dramatic and fitting one. The former embodies a mysterious, complex and haunting otherworldliness, the latter is much more familiar, folkish and earthbound. But who is Rustin Man with whom Ms Gibbon's is collaborating, you might ask? Why he is the alter ego of her friend Paul Webb (formerly of Talk Talk). And we should also note the presence throughout this album of her Portishead comrade Adrian Utley in both performance and production mode. A great line-up, indeed. Grand orchestral, big band and cabaret arrangements sit well beside more minimal instrumentations and Gibbons conveying her trademark deepest of despairs chameleons gracefully into the changing landscapes. This is apparent very early on with the expansive John Barry-esque lushness of "Tom The Model". Following that number is the sparsely beautiful "Show" with its assembly of cello, flute, double bass and piano, and a vocal performance that echoes the emotional brittleness of Chet Baker's "My Funny Valentine". While she still often stirs up those Shirley Bassey-esque inflections as she did in Portishead, in our opinion, she's at her best without them. Refined and elegant. Recommended.
Not sure where the idea came from for this match up: Billy Gibbons of legendary boogie rock gods ZZ Top, and Bonnie Prince Billy, formerly of Palace Brothers. Was it the two Billy's thing? Could be. But then there's also the fact that both are covering Fleetwood Mac! Seemed kind of silly, and like a total novelty, but goddamn if both tracks here aren't pretty great.
Gibbons tackles an older Peter Green 'Mac track, back from when they were a proper blues band, and thus it suits him perfectly, a dirge-y swampy blues, driven by a simple rhythmic stomp, Gibbons' badass raspy vox, all slithery blooze stomp, and it sorta kills! BPB takes on a Stevie Nicks track, and it ends up sounding like it could have been a BPB original, all stripped down and mostly acoustic, gorgeous vocal harmonies, all building to a lush final few minutes, helps that it was already a beautiful song to begin with.
Long overdue and much deserved collection documenting the work of one of the most influential DJs, remixers and game changers in New York's dance scene of the '70s and '80s. Gibbons was working mixing magic with two turntables back in the mid '70s as well as being one of the first artists to make reel-to-reel edits of tracks as he extended the breaks for ecstatic dancefloor delight. In many ways he was one of the first people responsible for remixes, edits and extended tracks, which would become staples of dance 12"s for years to come. It also helped that Gibbons had such great taste, working on mixes for such amazing artists as Arthur Russell, Bettye Lavette, Gladys Knight, Stetsasonic, Double Exposure, etc. He had this incredible ability to keep the essence of their tracks alive yet completely transform them into something even more primitive and physical. It's no wonder folks like Arthur Russell and the Salsoul label would only trust Gibbons with their remixes. Gibbons could always take what was just an average song on its own and make in into absolute magic (see "Sun Sun Sun")!
He brought a street grit to the disco floor, and his mixes remain as some of our favorite dance floor burners of all time. It's eerie what a striking resemblance his photo on the cover of this collection bears to another great pioneer of dance music, Patrick Cowley, and sadly like so many of the talented artists of this era, Gibbon's life ended all too soon due to AIDS related illness in 1994. His legacy, spirit, and sound live on, captured so lovingly on this Strut collection, making it an absolute must have!
Double cd anthology of rocksteady and reggae tracks from producer Joe Gibbs. Gibbs started his career with a bang, recording Lyn Taitt & the Jets "Hold Them" in 1967 -- a song that would later be hailed as the first rocksteady release. Gibbs had the good
Collection of Joe Gibbs productions from the late seventies and early eighties tracing the evolution of dancehall and Gibbs' role within it. Working with Sly & Robbie and their group (under Gibbs they were known as the Professionals) Gibbs produced a number of successful tracks and, more importantly, helped establish a modus operandi which would become de rigeur among producers through the eighties on to the present. Most importantly, inspired by Bunny Lee, was the concept of the recycled rhythm -- done to save money (no need to come up with and rehearse a new rhythm, hoping it would become a hit) -- the bulk of which initially came from classic Studio One tracks. Another was the requisite dub side for every single released. While Bunny used King Tubby, Gibbs went to Errol Thompson. Soul Jazz has culled together 19 tracks, both classic and rare, typifing the Gibbs production sound from his most successful period. Included are classics like Culture's "Two Sevens Clash", Junior Murvin's "Cool Out Son", oddballs like the Joe Gibbs & The Professionals sound effects laden dub "Massive Fire" and the troll like vocal track "Dreader Mafia" by Snuffy And Wally. Includes a 14 page booklet of liner notes and historic photos.
A real nice collection of dubs from Joe Gibbs and Errol Thompson. The two were responsible for recording some of Jamaica's hottest tunes in the mid-seventies. Joe Gibbs was an electrical engineer by trade, but was seduced into the music business after he began selling records on the side in his television / radio repair shop. His early successes in his career eventually led him to an introduction to Randy's legendary house engineer Errol Thompson who he subsequently stole away from the studio, forming a lasting and very successful professional relationship. The dubs here are all taken from roots productions the two did at the height of their career. Along with lots of great keyboard and piano solos, echoey horn sections, and the reverbed out rocker rhythms of Sly Dunbar there are plenty of dubs which show off the uninhibited creativity of the pair: using mics to pick up car horns, bubbling and running water, crying babies and other sound effects to mix into the pot. Comes with a decent four pages of liner notes, photos and a handsome outer paper sleeve.
We really weren't too sure what to expect from this, the former drummer from Pennsylvania heavies Pearls & Brass gone country, which is nothing new really, plenty of rockers we dig have made solo records that were essentially country records, and it's not all that surprising that some dark introspective twang might lurk beneath much of the music we love. But what is new, is that this is not a 'dude with a guitar' country record, instead, it's more like 'a dude with a laptop, a drum machine and a sampler' country record! The twang here is often just implied, with the music a murky, swirling, layered loopscape of softly stuttering samples, but there's plenty of slippery lap steel, acoustic guitar and piano, all wreathed in electronic halos, drifting through lush expanses of softly reverbed electro-shimmer, the songs tethered to loping looped rhythms and shuffling programmed beats, the sounds washed out and shimmery, reminding us more of Magnetic Fields, Gibson's deep dramatic croon not all that far removed from Stephen Merritt's, in fact opener, "Bad Guys" definitely sounds like a countrified Magnetic Fields. "In The Beginning" adds some soulful vox, and Gibson ends up sounding more like Antony or Arthur Russell, and a looped vocal sample acts as background vox, a method used throughout the record, like on "Tiffany Lou" with what might just be a Jolie Holland vocal sample gets slowed down and looped, hip hop style into a murky chopped and screwed chorus.
Gibson often gets compared to James Blake, his approach to country similar to the Blake's take on soul music, but we might also mention Dirty Beaches' Elvis worshipping electro-rockabilly, which seems a much more apt reference, as Gibson's vocals definitely hew closer to the King a lot of the time, especially on tracks like "Lookin' Back on '99", which sounds like Elvis crooning along to a modernized version of some eighties TV theme, all hiss drenched chase scene propulsion, tense and cinematic. We also hear the influence of folks like John Maus and Ariel Pink, Gibson's sonic innovation similarly idiosyncratic, check out the title track, which closes the record which initially sounds like Portishead via Barry Adamson, but when the vocals come in becomes something more like James Ferraro collaborating with Ariel Pink on a theme for the next James Bond movie! Strange, dark, haunting stuff, a woozy, dreamily druggy late night electro-twang gem. Most definitely recommended for fans of Scott Walker, Arthur Russell, Magnetic Fields, James Blake, Dirty Beaches, Ariel Pink, & John Maus.
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES!!
We've been trying to review/list the recent full length from Daughn Gibson for a while now, but our suppliers are constantly out, which is not surprising, cuz the rest of the world must be as smitten as we are by Gibson's weird electro-country, traveling a similar sonic path as Dirty Beaches, but where DB reinvents Elvis style rockabilly electronically, Gibson does the same with country ballads, looping voices and soul snippets and creating dark haunting electronic country soul ballads, driven by Gibson's deep cowboy vocals. The weirdest part is that he was actually the drummer for heavy rockers Pearl And Brass, which makes electro-country side even more of a surprise. But until we can get copies of the full length, this new 7" will have to tide you over, the A side draping Daughn's deep snarly vox over swirling looped strings, and subtly sampled soul snippets, all infused with a dark country twang, it's not until the end that the song really reveals itself as a strange electronic studio concoction, with layered looped background vocals coming to the fore. The B side is a dark sultry country ballad, again super subtly looped and sampled, only close listening reveals the strangely disparate elements, otherwise it plays like some long lost honky tonky jukebox ballad. Nice!
We've long been fans of weirdo murk merchants Net Shaker, a duo who traffic in twisted Starfuckers style abstractions and echo drenched downtempo 'electronica', but of a sort you've likely never heard. Warped, and woozy, fractured, and gloriously fucked up. Well, Ernest Gibson, one half of Net Shaker struck out on his own, and delivered two cd-r's, both equaling the balls out weirdness of the Net Shaker mothership, but definitely digging a little deeper, although as we mentioned in our review of the most recent cd-r, the sound is not that far removed from Net Shaker, so much so, that at one point it had us mistakenly assuming Net Shaker was in fact just Gibson anyway. Apologies to the other half of Net Shaker! But fans of Net Shaker, and either of those two cd-r's will not be disappointed with Island Records, which begins with probably the most 'rocking' jam we've heard from Gibson or Net Shaker, all churning loping rhythm, detuned swamp guitar, mumbled FX drenched vox, and reverby twang, it sort of sounds like a more minimalist Woven Hand, it's got a similar swagger, a creepy apocalyptic vibe, but it's way more smeared and blurry and indistinct, the krautrock vibe is huge, super motorik and mesmerizing, it's the sort of thing we could listen to forever. It actually also reminds us of that Tony Conrad / Faust collaboration, but again, a bit more druggy and warped.
And while we'd like to say the rest of the record follows suit, it really doesn't, the sound does remain echo-y and swampy, reverby and darkly psychedelic, but the songs themselves seem to deconstruct before our very ears, sprawling into oozing expanses of jittery skitter, and moaning guitar thrum, bleary, baffling, slo-mo blooze-y stomp. There's lost of abstract drift, like disembodied pop songs via Nurse With Wound, all creaking and shimmering, crystalline sonic structures seemingly melting and crumbling in slow motion, the songs like time lapse recordings of these psychedelic implosions.
That krautrock vibe does surface throughout, "Groupwork" is like Moon Duo on thorazine, and "All Of Us Together" is like a slightly souped up Suicide, but in-between, rubbery basslines billow into clouds of slo-mo thrum, thick, twang guitar hovers over garbled vox and dense textural swirls and chordal swells, with some tracks delving into full on dub territory, but then it's like some sort of Spacemen 3 via the Scientist as re-envisioned by the Climax Golden Twins, warped and woozy and seriously sonically wonderful.
Includes a download code!
Back in January of 2010, we discovered a mysterious group of noisemakers called Net Shaker, their record having shown up in the mail one day, a dark and twisted minimal assemblage of gnarled detuned guitars, murky rhythms, moaning melodies, glitched out electronics, the various elements constantly shifting as if someone was messing with the tape speed, but all woven into a blurred but of hypnotic krautdrone, space drift whatthefuck, so much so, that we had a lot of trouble describing it, and figuring out any bands to compare them too. Since then, we've begun to imagine them as beholden to the mighty Starfuckers, and we're sure fans of that band would no doubt enjoy Net Shaker, but somehow, Net Shaker seemed even more twisted and confusional. Needless to say, we played that disc to death, and sold a ton, so we were pretty excited when Net Shaker mainman dropped us a line to let us know he had a new solo record, which is this right here, cryptically titled Operator, and wouldn't you know it, the solo apple doesn't fall far from the Net Shaker tree. In fact, we wouldn't have batted an eye had Gibson told us this was the new Net Shaker. Just check out the opener, "Low Mote House", a looped warbly bassline, wreathed in swaths of random sound, of swirled shimmer, of industrial whir, the sounds again seeming to melt and speed up and slow down, we describe a lot of things as woozy, but this really IS woozy, the melodic component in constant motion, whirling and swirling, while that relentless bass anchors all the strange and ever shifting proceedings, and like Net Shaker, it seems Gibson on his own is not as concerned with songsmithery as he is at creating truly strange sonic events, which do seem to contain songlike elements, but are much more textural, more about mood and ambience, with strange swells of warbly melodies, bizarre tangles of noise, what sounds like multiple tape experiments all piled on top of each other. But also like Net Shaker, this is far from noise for noise' sake, with most of the tracks coalescing into something more rhythmic or hypnotic, often reminding us of Strotter Inst and his prepared turntables, the same sort of robotic anti-groove, but often blossoming into something impossibly lovely. Check out "Lake Scene" which wreaths it's pulsing rhythm in hazy swirls of smeared melody and dreamlike shimmer, or "Lit Trees" which sounds like a soundtrack for some filmic nightmare, all ominous and sinister but again, strangely lovely. Many of the tracks are super brief, more like little experiments or interludes, but they are deftly woven into the fabric of the whole record, often serving more as a sonic segue, joining two disparate movements, and even sometimes blurring the boundaries between songs and sounds. There's some heaviness hidden throughout, like the horn driven dirge of "Everyone In Here", there's also the careening lurching rhythmic lumber of "Way I Walk there Sick" and the super scary blackened creepscape that is "Your Voice On Tape", which definitely uses shifting tape speed to create haunting melodies, wound up in disembodied guitar twang, and vocal driven drones, it's all pretty fantastic.
But a tough one to describe for sure, it definitely seems like the sort of stuff that would appeal to fans of all strains of looped mesmer, Tim Hecker, Philip Jeck, the aforementioned Strotter Inst, but the rhythmic element make this equally appealing for folks into dark minimal hypnorock, Gibson's sound like a murky, minimal, slo-mo analog to Circle's repetitive rock mantras, but somehow WAY weirder.
Solo record number two from Ernest Gibson, a name you might be familiar with as a long time reader of the aQ list, especially if your idea of easy listening is gnarled lo-fi murk, or creeping dirgey minimalism, or abstract blackened drift, cuz that's precisely the sort of stuff Gibson and his group Net Shaker traffic in. A sort of Starfuckers style anti-rock minimalism, that wreaths skeletal barely there rhythms in shrouds of whirring thrum, and conjures up ghostly expanses of Hecker / Jeck like atmospheres, infusing those sounds with a sort of spectral ghost pop drag, warbled vocals and swirling constantly morphing textures. We may be describing Net Shaker, or Gibson's solo material, the rotten apple doesn't fall far from the gnarled, withered tree after all.
And while Gibson's first solo record did in fact sound like it could have been a Net Shaker record proper, Sail Thru Izapa takes all of those same sounds and reworks them into something much lovelier, and strangely delicate, creating a sort of slowcore murk pop, bass pulses drift in expanses of blurred static, fluttering flute like melodies surface and then fade out, vocals, laconic and laid back, intone hauntingly over bleak blurs, rife with warped tolling bells, in some weird way much of this sounds like Kode9 or Burial, but way more tweaked, and glacial and drugged out, the vocals a deathbed croon one second, a monk like chant the next, the music being dragged along in its muddy wake, woozy tendrils of sound, pocked with bits of buzz and glitch and hum. Occasionally, the pace is picked up a bit, the drums more propulsive, those beats wreathed in malfunctioning electronics, the vocals yelped, a curiously ramshackle shuffling anti-rock loose-groove stumble, but even then, everything is painted in greys and blacks, the tape speed constantly shifting, as if the batteries were dying, or the motor was gradually wearing out. And as we mentioned in the review of Gibson's other record, this stuff is really hard to describe, because it is so unlike anything else we've heard. A feverdream in sound, imagine some nightmarish psychological low budget art film, this could very well be the score, nightmarish, brooding, mysterious, otherworldly, mesmerizing and terrifying in equal measure, a totally entrancing soundworld that creates a gorgeous series of movements in murk, a slo-mo beat driven drift, the sort of shit that must be spinning eternally, by some black robed DJ on the empty dancefloor at the edge of the world, where time has no meaning, and sound, these sounds, ease you into the endless blackness below.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Flute, whoot!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Flute, whoot!
What a pleasant surprise. It's not at all rare to get a new record from a gentle folky singer songwriter these days, but what is rare is when one creates music this immediately pleasing and soft on the ears. With a fragile and intimate vibe, this album has the same kind of charm that made us fall in love with Jolie Holland when we first heard her. With labelmates Norfolk & Western on board as her backing band, Gibson and Co. utilize saw, vibraphones, mandolin and banjo, creating the perfect sonic moments. Gibson's enticing voice makes us think of an even dreamier Karen Dalton or a more rustic Hanne Hukkelberg. While Hush is best known as the Portland label that first put out Decemberists records, this gem by Laura Gibson is the new jewel in their crown we think!!
One of three new releases on UK cassette label The Tapeworm, this one featuring two sprawling side long excursions into just intonation drone from Brooklyn composer Randy Gibson, a student of legendary minimalist composer La Monte Young. Gibson fuses the traditional concepts of prime harmonic just intonation with modern tape manipulation, the tones as important as the mechanisms producing them, the sounds lush and layered, heaving and undulating, overtones and subtle sonic colors, rife with subtle shifts, tape speed inconsistencies, peppered with bits of hum and hiss, crunch and creak, a sound more organic and human than clinical and composed, the sounds seeming to breathe and expand, some serious deep kosmische drift for sure.
The two sides here are created from 18 hours of recordings condensed into two half hour epic swaths of deeeeeep rage like dronemusic, the sound constantly evolving and mutating and subtly shifting, from ethereal hazy shimmer to thick reverberating metallic buzz, a gorgeously expansive dronescape created using just voice, cassette boomboxes and just intonation toy organs. Wow.
Total deep drone blissout for sure. Essential listening for the aQ dronemusic faithful...
LIMITED TO 250 COPIES!!
Oops, dragged our asses a bit on this one! It came out back in August 2006. Ah well, better late than never. Funny thing is this South London band's second album *sounds* as if it was released much longer ago than that... oh , like maybe over a decade ago! Characterized by angular guitars, distempered male vocals and a boiling cauldron rhythm section, Giddy Motors' churning sound is a familiar one to those of us born before 1977ish. Authentically recalling the angst and aggression of their forefathers Jesus Lizard, Cows, Die Kreuzen and The Fall, Giddy Motors' Do Easy could easily be mistaken for a long lost, late '80s / early '90s release on Amphetamine Reptile or Touch & Go. Pissed, scarred and raw.
This is kinda like a lot of those tough, angular Touch & Go type bands from the late '80s, plus a bit of that oh-so-now dancey post-punk, and a heaping spoonful of the Pop Group via the Birthday Party as channelled through the Jesus Lizard, topped off with a big dose of extra testosterone. At first I thought I'd try to like it, being, as it is, similar to many of the skronky and confrontational bands I love, but then I was like, "nah."
The return of Fflint!! The first release in almost a year from our hands down, favorite fucked outsider electronic label. Avid readers of the AQ list need only see the names Berkowitz Lake And Dahmer, Cavendish Sanguine, Pendro, Cousin Silas and of course the Gideon Leeches, to know what sort of mind bending, ear shredding electronic fuckery these freaks have in store for us.
The Gideon Leeches, aka Steve Nuttall, was the first group on Fflint, not in some way made up of one (or both) of the two shadowy souls behind the Fflint curtain. But hearing this (and the previous disc, The Freezing Point) one would be forgiven for assuming that it was actually a like minded trio responsible for all of these sounds. Some sort of freakish three headed calf, plopped down behind some busted up turntables, an old sampler and a mixing desk, kept alive with a steady diet of crisps and beer. The results are suitably damaged and off kilter. And glorious!!!
So here we have Blessed Is The Noise, the work of one of those three heads, and what a piece of work it is too. Like most Fflint discs, it's a very fine balance between droning beauty and complete chaos, and as we might expect (and hope), the Leeches have no problem diving headfirst into either. Or both. It's electronic music, but it's sure as heel not 'danceable', it's dark and droney, but not really soothing and tranquil. But then again, it sort of is. Both. Soothing AND tranquil. And danceable. OK, not really danceable.
Vocals are chopped and sliced and diced and reassembled into some sort of damaged robotic Portishead thing, and set adrift amidst a soft shimmery backdrop, before the backdrop revolts and becomes dense and corrosive, moaning like bowed sheets of metal, but remaining still somehow droney and dreamy. Thick swaths of sparkling sunbaked sound are wrapped around a relentlessly catchy nursery rhyme melody, like an ice cream truck driving directly into the center of the sun. A vast expanse of vibrating rods, all shimmering and quivering and letting off soft metallic whirs, is submerged beneath 6 inches of muddy water, while a row of parked cars honks along, the whole thing recorded on a wax cylinder and played back through a hearing aid. Elsewhere, an orchestra of keening high end tones is wrapped around a throbbing rumbling whir, the sound of a crying child is subsumed by a million skipping cds, their skipping creating a warm womb like whir, while also unleashing inadvertent subtly rhythmic pulses. Gorgeous blurry drifts of muted melody are stretched into gauzy sheets and draped over ghostly vocals. A Sunroof! like din is channelled through the spirit of a player piano, resulting in a strange old timey abstract free noise Ur-drone, and so much more...
Blessed Is The Noise is nearly indescribable, or more precisely seems to be more easily described in terms of rods and player pianos and honking horns and ice cream trucks, than tone and timbre, but that's precisely what makes it so magical. Like all of the Fflint stuff, it's gorgeous and confusional, lovely, yet cracked, far out, but completely catchy at the same time. And also, as with all of the Fflint stuff, so wholeheartedly recommended!
Finally!!! More skull cracking, mind bending, feelings hurting, shin kicking, hair pulling, back stabbing, ass kicking, ribcage rattling, ear piercing, eye gouging, bowel loosening electronic mayhem from our favorite lovable miscreants FFlint Central! This time from the mysterious entity known as The Gideon Leeches. We heard a little bit from the Leeches on the amazing Unholy Trinity compilation reviewed a few lists back and could hardly wait for the full length. And we are not disappointed. In fact I might go so far as to proclaim this one of the best releases on Fflint so far. And that's saying a lot, knowing, as you do, how much we LOVE Berkowitz, Lake and Dahmer, Pendro, Cavendish Sanguine, and the whole lot. But the proof's in the pudding. And the pudding here is a thick, miasmic pool of shimmers and rumbles, buzzing and tinkling, howling and keening. We are suckers for this stuff, at least when it's done right. And believe me, this is done so right. Huge expanses of static sound, with swirling, ever-shifting layers of feedback, buzzing electronic drones, throbbing low end pulses, warbly melodies, creaking machinery and what sounds like swarms of sitars, careening madly above a warm and tranquil blanket of gauzy dreaminess. But with a dark and ominous edge. This has AQ favorite written all over it. Think Sunroof!, Skullflower, Vibracathedral Orchestra, Birchville Cat Motel, Pelt, Peter Wright, and all of those other folks who traffic in deep, dark, organic' free-drone. Fans of the above will definitely LOVE this! And again, our pals at Fflint continue to impress, and we're beginning to think that Fflint just may be one of the only labels we know of with a perfect record (except for tUMULt of course!! - Andee). Can't wait to hear what they come up with next. But in the meantime, BUY THIS!
MPEG Download: "The Freezing Point Of Sound" [/audio/gideonfreezing.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "The Freezing Point Of Sound" [/audio/gideonfreezing.m3u]
MPEG Download: "Scowring And Flux" [/audio/gideonscowring.mp3]
On Adult Life, Brooklyn's noise king Carlos Giffoni has made a purposeful shift away from the clobbering sound assaults and sustained concrete block explosions. This is his pure analog synth record; and despite the shift in source material, Adult Life cannot and should not be taken lightly. Giffoni has cited Cluster, Tangerine Dream, and Eno as his inspiration for this album; but these references are not really close to how this album ends up. The kosmische electronics of those pioneering composers has been injected with steroids or blasted with high doses of x-rays or anything really that would give these sounds diabolical super powers. In actuality, Giffoni's industrial-grade lazer blasts and heavily compressed LFO sweeps aren't too far from where Whitehouse started out, but without the blessing and curse of William Bennett. Adult Life begins with a terse police siren which noxiously ping-pongs against mercurial electronic tones and metallic flanges, setting the stage for a head-pounding excursion into the hypnotic and relentless. Throughout the album, Giffoni rotates sawtooth LFO patterns of blistering electricity, rudimentary structuralist patterns adrift on a magnetic sea, and buzzing squigglings from brain-frying modulations.
Not sure how we managed to miss this one. Only just realized we had a batch of these stashed in the store, and somehow they never got listed. Needless to say these are probably the last copies EVER as this came out on aRCHIVE and was of course crazy limited, and since that stuff routinely sells out in NO TIME, and according to the aRCHIVE website this is indeed out of print, this may very well be it for these, but at least a handful of lucky folks, who enjoy ruining their hearing, punishing their poor speakers, and of course annoying their neighbors, will be in N.O.I.S.E. heaven.
A pretty serious match up, noiseniks should know both these guys by now, NY noise legend Carlos Giffoni, and Scandinavian speaker shredder Lasse Marhaug. So you might expect a punishing blast of Merzbowian white noise, but in fact this is pretty listenable, and really strange and wondrous. There are definitely brutal moments, but there are gorgeous, almost tranquil moments as well.
From a crunchy thump that sounds like a fetal heartbeat run through a busted amp, to a field of decaying glitch and hiss, beneath which, strange metallic melodies drift and shimmer, to washed out crunchy almost Oval like digital skitter, to huge tangled streaks of detuned guitar and full on blown out black buzz, to dense fields of electromagnetic disturbance and malfunctioning machinery, howled voices and glitchy squiggles, grinding industrial clatter and fuzzy swaths of corrosive blacknoise, but all deftly arranged into what sound like actual songs. Melodies mysterious surface here and there, rhythms coalesce out of seemingly abstract sounds, it's pretty dang cool. But be warned, it most certainly is still NOISY. So if you have an aversion to noise, this might be too much for you, otherwise, a wicked slab of gorgeous grinding corrosion and lurching chaotic crunch. More musical manna for the iron eared.
Packaged in a cool 6 panel aRCHIVE style gatefold. LIMITED TO 500 COPIES. Already out of print. We have a handful left...
By all accounts, this double LP of pure brutality finds the Canadian noise outfit The Rita remixing source sounds from Brooklyn noise king Carlos Giffoni and vice versa. In the press release for this album, The Rita's Sam McKinlay offers a cogent argument about the aesthetic differences which stem from The Rita's 'dirty' methods of overdriving sound through daisy-chains of pedals contrasted against Carlos Giffoni's pulsing synths which cruise beneath the turbulent noise surfaces. While there are some notable differences on both of these pieces of vinyl, they are secondary to the overwhelmingly harsh noise which persists throughout. This is all about the noise, and this noise is an abject, blackened sound which has the feeling of particulate soot from a very dirty coal power plant given to the force of a sandblaster used not on a brickwall, but your eardrums to penetrate as a viral agent. On occasion, thicker chunks enter this jet-powered stream of sound, smashing against each other like massive sheets of shattering glass. The first of the two LPs uses these sounds within a series of erratic compositions that gradually build to cut-the-power conclusions. The second LP unleashes the flood gates from beginning to end with very little variation to the punishment. In both cases, it's still all about the quality of that noise, as an extremely aggressive tool of harsh, ugly, vile blackness. Limited to 300 copies!
One hails from the rust belt of Michigan, fostering all sorts of sick tones through his Chondritic Sound imprint; and the other inflicts an acerbic noise through his internationally acclaimed No Fun Festival and the accompanying label No Fun Productions. Together, Hive Mind and Giffoni join forces for a rather misanthropic, grim, oppressive set of crunched noises and radioscopic synth throb.
Both tracks incrementally build up lurches of distortion that push out oozing rumbles of low-end and bristling amplifications of electrical static. Heavy synth with an industrial / power electronic mindset that's exactly where you expect Giffoni and Hive Mind to meet. Also see Broken Flag era Ramleh, Whitehouse, and Wolf Eyes. As with all Ultra Eczema titles, this sports a very nicely silkscreened cover. Only 300 copies in print. We will probably not be able to restock this!!!
Darkthrone fans, check it out! It's a solo album - or at least, a solo ep, about 25 minutes long, with 4 songs on it - from Ted Skjellum, aka Nocturno Culto, one half of that idiosyncratic Norwegian black metal institution. Why he called his solo project Gift Of Gods we don't know, why not just call it the Nocturno Culto Band when you've already got a cool name like that? We also don't know why he didn't just put these songs on a Darkthrone album, 'cause in the liner notes, ol' Ted says this is his outlet for making music in the vein of '80s heavy metal, but of course that (in part) has been what Darkthrone has been doing on their last 4 or 5 albums anyway. Certainly any of the four tracks here could easily have appeared as one of the Nocturno Culto contributions to this year's Darkthrone opus The Underground Resistance, which alternated songs written and sung by Nocturno Culto with songs written and sung by the other half of the Darkthrone duo, Fenriz. The only real difference here is that N.C. is playing drums instead of Fenriz, as well as handling almost everything else: guitar, bass, lyrics, & vocals. N.C. does get help from his pal K.A. Hudbreider on rhythm guitar, while K.A.'s brother provides guests vocals on one track.
Punningly named opener "Enlightning Strikes" sets the tone, with its surging, doomic riffs and N.C.'s rasping vokills, singing lyrics that are both morbid and cosmic. It's heavy, headbanging stuff, which segues nicely into an equally heavy instrumental, the triumphant title track, again loaded with churning riffage as well as loads of glorious lead guitar. That's followed by the disc's most traditionally '80s sounding song, which turns out to in fact be a cover, a rockin' number called "Looking For An Answer", originally recorded by an obscure Swedish heavy metal band called Universe back in 1985. A pretty great song, actually, and it fits right in, even though N.C. brings in a ringer to handle the more melodic demands of the vocals (quite well done by the aforementioned brother). Finally the ep winds up with the downer, doomy "Last Solstice", a track lengthy and pounding like the opener. Pure melancholy majesty; the '80s metal being referenced here has got to be Celtic Frost.
So, basically, if you liked The Underground Resistance (we did!), then you can consider this ep the equivalent of previously unreleased bonus tracks, quite worthy ones at that. Now we'll be looking for a reissue of Universe's album...
Slipcased jewel case compact disc packaging (vinyl version AWOL at the moment).
Doug Hilsinger is one talented fellow. On his own, he's remade the entire Brian Eno album Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) with Caroleen Beatty on vocals. Together they're two fifths of SF smoky twang combo Waycross. He's also played with numerous local and international artists. Plus he was previously in two other great Bay Area bands... namely Bomb and the creators of this here album, Gifthorse, a heavy prog/psych/metal band who rocked the bay area from 1991 through 1996, and perhaps as referenced in the title, this was their first full length. Absolutely tight and powerful instrumental hard rock! If you dig the Fucking Champs, why don't ya let their elder Bay Area brethren rip your head off too... in a good way!
Nice new outing by one of Tropicalia's leading men.
WONDERUL! Japanese-only reissue of the third Gil album (also known as the self titled Gilberto Gil album), originally issued by Brazilian Polydor in 1969. Mutantes fans hungering for more should not skip this gem, and who knows how long it will be available to us so buy now or cry later.
"Every bit as in the zone as Gal's epochal '69 testament; musta been something in the Bahian water that year! The Brazilian military dictatorship of the time didn't know what the fuck to make of these records, but they knew they were plenty subversive & placed Gilberto & Caetano Veloso (don't sleep on his '69 White Album either, even though it's never been as hard to find as these two) under house arrest before exiling them for several years. Lanny, again, provides some of the most psychedelic guitarwork the world has ever known & studio wiz Rogerio Duprat outdoes himself on the almost-Dockstadteresque 'Objeto Semi-Identificado'. There's even a Mutantes cover ('2001' or 'Dois Mil e Uno') which out-freaks the original! ... This was Gil's third album, and second in the Tropicálist style. I've yet to hear a bad one from him..." -- Tropicalia expert Jason Witherspoon in the (Forced Exposure catalog [http://www.forcedexposure.com/])
Originally released in 1972, Expresso 2222 was Gilberto Gil's first recording after his two year exile in London. The record opens with a truly riveting, playful, and festive flute and drum instrumental, that harkens to the ceremonial flute music of the Andes. Sadly, it's the last stylistic foray on the record into the spiritual heights of the high mountain tops, but for those uninitiated, let it be the delectable hors d'oeuvre that sends you on your hunt for more. Luckily what is to come is by far one of the greatest statements in popular Brazilian music of the '60s and '70s. When the second track rolls in, we're thrust back, deep into the midst of a more archetypical Tropicalia sound, though the movement itself was considered to be properly dead at that point. It is clear Gil is looking to Africa for inspiration more than classic American '60s rock and roll and pop, a hallmark of the Tropicalia movement. In all cases however, Gil continuously mines funky indigenous rhythms and melodies, and reinvigorates them with a contemporary urgency. Gil's vocal delivery is always vividly commanding, with plenty of flare and pomp alongside a general purity of form and intention. Gil's frantic guitar playing is a true feat to behold and always rich in craft. Anyone who hasn't spent a little time watching Gil shred in his prime on YouTube should do themselves a favor, it is a real pleasure, and frankly a gift. Gil's supporting cast is in fine form as well on this outing with Tutty Moreno providing crisp, inventive drumming and Lanny Gordin delivering a great chugging and supple bass performance. The production is not as wild or intensely psychedelic as Gil's most immediately previous records at that point in his career, generally emphasizing clarity and separation ahead of the sometimes schizophrenically boisterous psychedelia he also dabbled in. Perhaps the record's most luminous moment occurs on "Cada Macaco No Seu Galho," wherein Gil and sometime collaborator Caetano Veloso launch into a frenetic and roiling duet over one of the most gorgeously sturdy yet lyrical Latin guitar riffs ever recorded. Seriously, go there.
Brazil's beloved Gilberto Gil, as one of the originators of the Tropicalia sound, has written and recorded some of the most beautiful and politically-minded music ever made. We are huge fans of his first three records, especially Cerebro Electronico from 1969, but like a lot of the older Brazilian artists, including Gal Costa, Caetano Veloso and Milton Nascimento, Gil has been releasing a series of increasingly bland world-beat and jazz-fusion records for quite a while now.
It seems though, that his recent appointment as Brazil's Minister of Culture, has left him little time to record and rehearse with a full band, and so he has thankfully returned to recording and touring with just his voice and acoustic guitar. If you haven't seen him perform recently, you HAVE to, he's truly a magical presence, and hearing the Brazilian members in the audience sing along to every song is a more rewarding experience than you would expect. There's just so much love. Gil Luminoso is a nice return to form with a few visits back to his older catalog (including "Cerebro Electronico"), but containing mostly new songs. At an hour's length, with just voice and guitar, it runs a bit long, but for the most part, it's quite a beautiful record. So put down that Seu Jorge record and get a dose of the real thing! Viva Gil!
Don't let the English-sung lyrics deter you from getting one of Gilberto Gil's finest Tropicalia recordings. Recently reissued in a more affordable version by the Water label, here Gil revisits some of his most popular songs such as "Volkswagen Blues" and "Nega", as well as one some great cover versions of Blind Faith's "Can't Find My Way Home" and The Beatles' "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band". Full of the exuberant singing and fuzz electric guitar as showcased on his previous record, Cerebro Electronico, this record is pretty damn Great!
Finally available domestically, Cerebro Electronico (Also known as s/t (1969)), is Gilberto Gil's most wild and exciting Tropicalia outing. Mutantes fans hungering for more should not skip this gem. If Gal Costa's 1969 psych-fuzz groove album floated your boat, get ready for this. Another raucous and wild slab of political subversion that later caused his and Caetano Velosos house arrest and subsequent political exile for many years. Featuring some of the most psychedelic guitarwork the world has ever known, studio wiz Rogerio Duprat outdoes himself on the almost-Dockstadteresque 'Objeto Semi-Identificado'. There's even a Mutantes cover ('2001' or 'Dois Mil e Uno') which out-freaks the original! And some fucking awesome whistling on "Volks Volkswagon Blue." Those unsure of where to start on Gilberto Gil's long musical career should begin right here! Highly Recommended.
Gilberto Gil's Frevo Rasgado is as true an archetypal expression of Tropicalia as one is going to find. As is always more or less the case with defining a genre, some portion of the mental gymnastics hinges on construction and projection. As humans trying to categorize things we like, we often blur the edges and collapse differences in service of our desire to be able to declare unequivocally: "I like Alternative!" Or Shitgaze, or Go-Go, or whatever crackpot concoction you've got brewing. So, all that said, this record does an incredibly good job of presenting a thorough and accessible example of a genre that is surprisingly elusive, now 40 years past its zenith. And perhaps what makes it elusive is the breadth of influence it incorporates, mixing bossa nova, rock and roll, Bahian folk music, myriad African forms, and even a brand of Portuguese blues called fado. The pastiche is so rich in fact that it's pretty easy to lose track of the ingredients in the blend. A good pair of headphones will certainly help you tease the detail out of the auxiliary percussion tucked under the horn section, or pull a thread of whistling out of a dense flute section. For those inclined towards this kind of sonic excavation, this record is a true pleasure.
But enough hemming and hawing about genre, because this record is much more. It's a gorgeous collision between two of Brazil's greatest auteurs. Gil, the once exiled pop star with more than 20 records under his belt, and the current Minister of Culture in Brazil, head to head with Rogario Duprat, something of a Tropicalian Phil Spector, and undeniably� a fucking wizard. And both are in fine form, confident in their skills, expansive in their vision, technically inventive, and generally charming. Many of the melodies and the phrasings will be familiar to anyone whose spent time with the rest of the Rogario Duprat catalogue, especially A Banda Tropicalista Do Duprat, another classic from '68. However, Frevo Rasgado shows Gil also exploring a moodier and more atmospheric terrain. In particular the tracks "Ele Falava Nisso Todo Dia" and "Luzia Luluza" balance Gil's typically boisterous and winning vocal approach with a pensive, rainy-day production and arrangement aesthetic resulting in a sweet and sour treat you don't find often. Their sentimental gravitas is absolutely the stuff of soundtracks. Grab it before Wes Anderson does so you can have the pleasure of imagining or living the magic, before its potential is fixed in celluloid. Frevo Rasgodo is less of a guitar record than some of Gil's other records. Instead the many and varied horns, flutes, strings, and percussive ephemera drape the song structures in counterpoint, drawing your attention to the far reaches of what each song's core could imply. It's in this distance perhaps that the magic lies. Between whatever spare version of a song Gil first cooked up, and the spacious context and gallant style Duprat places it in. Anyone whose imagination has been piqued in regards to '60s and '70s Brazilian music by the likes of Animal Collective or Devendra Banhart should spend time with this record and uncover the origins. It's a full spectrum gift that keeps on giving.
Table Of The Elements is a label that tends to provoke strong reactions in lots of folks, for here is a label that consistently offers great ideas that sometimes fall short of their grandiose expectations when finally realized. Typically, these shortcomings are the result of a systemic lack of organizational skills, an inability to follow through on those ideas, and occasional pandering to the institutionality of the stodgy contingents of the avant-garde. A case in point would be the two year gap in between the 2nd and 3rd volumes of the TOTE Captain Beefheart vinyl. Another example is the Lanthinides series unwisely packaged in brittle plastic sleeves that inevitably wore through and cracked as well as being a rather narrow exploration of the incredibly rich history of avant-garde music.
Then comes Ordier, an album that causes us to suspend our criticisms of Table of the Elements... at least for this release. I (Jim) should offer the humble preamble that I believe Bruce Gilbert to be an artist whose failures are better than most of his contemporaries' successes. Gilbert is best known for his work in Wire, whose Pink Flag, Chairs Missing, and 154 albums are essential punk listening. He also authored a handful of post-punk / proto-electronica gems in collaboration with fellow Wire-man Graham Lewis in Dome and He Said. Ordier is the documentation of Gilbert's minimalist side, which he has occasionally expressed in the past, on his solo Ab Ovo album as well as a number of ballet scores throughout the last three decades. This album was recorded back in 1996 during a Table of the Elements festival and subsequently lost by the label (way to go, guys!). Gilbert runs primitive electronic tones through a series of effects and guitar pedals which provide him with a remarkable amount of finetuning and filtering. With a monochromatic composition of variable buzzings and fluttering chimes which rumble beautifully for over an hour, Ordier emerges as a hot-wired variation on the aesthetic ideas of the Hafler Trio, and stands out as yet another great record for B.C. Gilbert.
Packaged elaborately in a silkscreened wooden box, this will undoubtably cause problems when it's time for a repress so buy it now before the first pressing runs out.
