At the most recent New Pornographers show here leader Carl Newman fielded the audience's unanimous request that the group release another album of new material. Newman claimed that if anyone really wanted high quality New Porn material they would have to wait, but that he would gladly send us all crappy mp3s tomorrow if we wished. While our own request for those "crappy" mp3s has gone unheeded, we are slightly mollified by this 3 track ep from our friends from the Great White North. This single is, as you may have guessed from the title, not exactly entirely new material, but was a companion release to 'Mass Romantic' for its European release there last year. And it has taken us this long to get our grubby paws on them. We can skip 'Letter From An Occupant' as it has been covered in detail already (although we never tire of listening to it). Of the two new tracks on this disc, 'The End of Medicine' is a N.P. original and 'When I Was A Baby' is a cover of Andee's favorite Donner Party song. We're happy to inform that these two new ditties are worth waiting for. 'The End of Medicine' is classic N.P. material that will have you humming the chorus hours after listening to this ep. And unlike the nursery rhyme-like 'naughty little boy' acoustic version presented by the Donner Party, the N.P.'s start the track off with just Neko Case backed by guitar, which becomes an almost tearjerkingly beautiful waltz arrangement with the full band kicking in and Carl taking up the lead vocals and backed in harmony by all else. The one downside to the song and the ep as a whole is its brevity. I find myself just replaying the thing over and over to satisfy my need for more N.P.
Now in on LP!!! And it's about damn time! The first pressing of this glorious pop album was gone in such a flash we barely caught a glimpse of it, but now we've got the AQ ultra fave pop album in splendid vinyl abundance with lyric sheet to boot! So go on! Sing your lil' hearts out!
In case you somehow missed our gushing about the cd version (or your memory's a bit foggy), here's what we had to say:
Amazing pop maestro Carl Newman (Zumpano, Superconductor) heads the star-studded cast of what is, to AQ's collective ears, simply THE BEST POP ALBUM OF THE YEAR 2000. When was the last time the AQ staff and our wildly differing tastes happened to *unanimously* agree on a single album's brilliance? Maybe Neutral Milk's second record? The Soft Bulletin or Conet Project? Suffice to say that this happens very rarely, and that's how good this New Pornographers record is. "Mass Romantic" is absolutely shiningly great power pop, with influences as wide-ranging as Big Star, the Zombies, Eno, the Beach Boys, Cheap Trick, and Built to Spill.
Not since, well, the last Zumpano record (or Silver Sun's debut) has a pop record emerged that's this powerful, kickass, well-crafted and totally complex. Really. Each of the twelve tracks is a fully realised pop creation unto itself. Intelligent, infectious, and uplifting, with truly flawless arrangements (the key to pop greatness).
In a sparkling non-country spin, the wonderful Neko Case lends her vocal gusto to complete the soaring FOUR-PART vocals on such gems as "Letter From An Occupant" not to mention the title track. And the four other members of the New Pornographers are super talents in their own right: Daniel Bejar (the enigmatic figure behind the very Nilsson-influenced combo known as Destroyer), John Collins (bassist/engineer for the Nardwuar the Human Serviette-lead freakos the Evaporators, garage-pop stalwarts Smugglers, and the rock army known as Superconductor), Kurt Dahle (drummer for Canadian college popsters Limblifter), and indie filmmaker Blaine Thurier.
Recommended for everyone -- even if you only buy one pop or rock record this year, this should be it.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Sound the trumpets (hey, there is one on this album!), the third album from Vancouver's New Pornographers has arrived and it's nothing short of glorious! If you're even remotely familiar with us here at AQ, you know that we've championed this pop wunderkind since the very beginning (and maybe it can be said, even before that if you count our affection for their predecessor Zumpano). We celebrate the fact that their debut album Mass Romantic was an instant unanimous hit around these parts long before practically anywhere else (even prior to much of their homeland catchin' on!). Of course these days everyone is more than familiar with these guys' pop songwriting mighty might. Heck, they can't help but know it themselves, however they haven't just rested on their laurels nor have they gotten too clever for their own good. They remain steadfastly earnest and humble in the ways only Canadians can truly be (just check out that dorkier-than-dorky guitar 'solo' on the album's opener and title track... it's a hoot!).
Whereas Mass Romantic was a millennium freak of nature in its wall-to-wall power pop fireworks -- c'mon, the kind of spontaneous, unabashed puppy-dog romp bursting from songs like "Letter From An Occupant" can't be planned nor easily replicated -- 2003's Electric Version proved to be more of a grow-on-you kind of album. Slightly clouded by self-awareness and the pressure of elevated expectations, its hooks and charms weren't as immediate, but eventually that album put some solid roots down in our hearts too. So needless to say we were eagerly anticipating album number 3. And after just a couple of listens (who are we kidding? we've been playing it non-stop!), we can say that Twin Cinema nestles itself right in between. Having hurdled past the sophomore jinx obstacles and having numerous individual projects under their belts in the interim, the seven band members have once again reconvened with a remarkable effortlessness and consistency. We'd dare proclaim that the album even betters on both of its predecessors in certain aspects.
All the usual New Pornographers are present and accounted for. Tossing his delightful eccentricities into the mix, the elusive Dan Bejar surfaces for his sporadic appearances singing tales about his mysterious "Jackie" character once again. Carl Newman and Bejar can both be downright cryptic and non-sequitur-ish in the lyric department, but that certainly doesn't prevent you from gleefully singing along to lines like "Listenin' too long to one song, sing me Spanish Techno!" (wha'? huh?). If anything these peculiarities offer a neat contrast to their comparatively straight-forward guitar and piano leads. That said, they have stretched their creative limbs a little further adding nice touches like the dizzying vocal loops in "Falling Through Your Clothes", the cascading line from the abovementioned trumpet in "Stacked Crooked" and the even more effecting multi-part vocals that grace every song. Speaking of which, everyone's vocal performances are top notch with more full-on falsetto all around. Hurrah!
There's lots of fan-pleasing moments such as on the fourth song "The Bleeding Heart Show" which winds up with a big ol' chorus of "hey-la! hey-la!"s that's pushed over the top by an outtro counter-melody sung by noneother than Ms Neko Case. Definitely an album highlight, that tune has an air of sentimentality that feels like it was written specifically for a 'driving out of town' scene in a movie. Actually it was this song that was playing when our now-former co-worker (and major NP fanatic) Byram said his final farewell to the shop. Awww. Of course, if he hadn't left, it would rightfully be him writing this review, but we'll do our best in his absence. Anyways, we should let you know that this time around not all of the female vocal parts were sung by Neko Case, but don't get yourself in a panic! She does sing a whole bunch, but two other young ladies' sweet voices chime in as well -- one of them is Ms Nora O'Connor and the other is Carl Newman's long-lost niece Kathryn Calder (of their Mint Records labelmates The Immaculate Machine). And y'know what? You might have a hard time figuring out who's singing what 'cause despite each singer having distinct, seemingly recognizable voices, they all melt together into a single New Pornographers voice.
But back on the subject of Twin Cinema as a whole, it effectively strikes a balance of exuberantly vibrant hues and darker bittersweet shades. Indeed, there's an undercurrent of wistfulness (not quite heavy nor somber enough to be called melancholic) that runs throughout the fourteen songs, however it certainly doesn't dampen any spirits. Whereas Electric Version didn't have many instantly ass-kickin' pop anthems, Twin Cinema sure as hell does. They expertly cover the full palette of tempo and mood, serving up their trademark hooks all along the way. Whereas other band would/could muster one hook per song, Newman and Co. generously pack each song with numerous pop treats. Taking into consideration just how high they set the bar with their last two albums, not to mention how high fan and critic expectations probably are at this point, Twin Cinema is arguably the band's most polished and fully realized work to date. These Canucks have scored a hat trick!
Remastered, repackaged, repriced, relisted! We're happy to announce that Matador has gone and reissued this AQ-fave band's 2000 debut (previously only available as a Canadian import, of which we sold gizillions) domestically. There's no bonus tracks or anything, but it's been remastered (which actually means something -- they tamed the treble and it's indeed an improvement), repackaged (the cd is in a jewel case this time), and now the price is a real deal. So if you haven't already picked this up, now's the time. Here's the review we wrote back when it originally came out:
Amazing pop maestro Carl Newman (Zumpano, Superconductor) heads the star-studded cast of what is, to AQ's collective ears, simply THE BEST POP ALBUM OF THE YEAR 2000. When was the last time the AQ staff and our wildly differing tastes happened to *unanimously* agree on a single album's brilliance? Maybe Neutral Milk's second record? The Soft Bulletin or Conet Project? Suffice to say that this happens very rarely, and that's how good this New Pornographers record is. "Mass Romantic" is absolutely shiningly great power pop, with influences as wide-ranging as Big Star, the Zombies, Eno, the Beach Boys, Cheap Trick, and Built to Spill.
Not since, well, the last Zumpano record (or Silver Sun's debut) has a pop record emerged that's this powerful, kickass, well-crafted and totally complex. Really. Each of the twelve tracks is a fully realised pop creation unto itself. Intelligent, infectious, and uplifting, with truly flawless arrangements (the key to pop greatness).
In a sparkling non-country spin, the wonderful Neko Case lends her vocal gusto to complete the soaring FOUR-PART vocals on such gems as "Letter From An Occupant" not to mention the title track. And the four other members of the New Pornographers are super talents in their own right: Daniel Bejar (the enigmatic figure behind the very Nilsson-influenced combo known as Destroyer), John Collins (bassist/engineer for the Nardwuar the Human Serviette-lead freakos the Evaporators, garage-pop stalwarts Smugglers, and the rock army known as Superconductor), Kurt Dahle (drummer for Canadian college popsters Limblifter), and indie filmmaker Blaine Thurier.
Recommended for everyone -- even if you only buy one pop or rock record this year, this should be it.
Hurrah! Album #5 for longtime aQ darlings The New Pornographers finds them picking right up from where Challengers left off, and tweaking a few things in the best possible ways. Together's dozen pop songs are polished up to an absolute gleam, primed and ready to embrace your ears. The album's tempo is easy-going, and the production is expansive, yet comfily even keeled. Very welcoming and lovely. The powerful and nuanced voices of Neko Case and Kathryn Calder have been brought even more to the fore (such as on the robust "Your Hands (Together)" and the jaunty lilting "Sweet Talk, Sweet Talk"), and serve as a wonderful counterbalance to the yearning yelps of Carl Newman and Dan Bejar, evoking varying depths of wistfulness and melancholy. Never fear, the occasional, fantastical obtusity from Mr. Bejar does inevitably surface (check out "Silver Jenny Dollar"). He wrote a quarter of the album's songs, and headmaster Newman penned the rest. Their contrasting approaches have always been an unusual, but strangely effective pairing. And with each record they've seemed to draw closer and closer in step while not losing their individual quirks. This has only made the band's overall sound stronger and more solidified. Actually that is what makes this album so darn good. The band members have struck a resounding balance and unity. Although the band has long been classified as a supergroup, often to the point of distraction, and despite the fact that the career of one member in particular has skyrocketed in recent times, the band is more... uhh, together than ever before (sorry, how could we resist?!), and each song is a glorious fully realized ensemble piece. While we sure do yearn for the explosive candy-coated romp of their early effervescent tunes, we also find the honed and well composed spot that this mighty Canadian pop troupe have settled into quite easy on our ears too. So, need we say? Heartily recommended! Sure to please their legions of fans and win them legions more!
And fyi, if you're lucky, while supplies last, you get a free limited edition bonus 7" with your purchase of this album, featuring the New Pornos covering 3 songs by Outrageous Cherry! (Note, though, if you're a mailorderer getting Together on the cd format, you should tell us if you want the 7" or not, 'cause it might affect your shipping options...)
It gets harder and harder to describe drone records and dark ambient music. After hundreds of releases, all of them dark and drone-y and shimmery, mysterious and rumbling and blackened, whirring and abstract and ominous, we've pretty much exhausted our thesaurus. But truth be told, those words still do apply to most of the ambient music we like, and just because we run out of new words, doesn't at all mean that there isn't more dronemusic to be discovered. More black ambient to explore.
And while repeating ourselves is perhaps unavoidable, each record that does offer up something new, will hopefully in turn allow us to discover new ways of describing those sounds. Sounds that while perhaps similar to other music we've heard, are in fact, in their own way, unique, and which sonically transport us to someplace fresh and exciting.
Although fresh and exciting are maybe not words we would use to describe Whispers of The Approaching Wastefulness from Italian black ambient master New Risen Throne. The sounds here are, well, see above, all of those. But in addition to being ambient music, and dronemusic, the sounds here are much more than that. Incredibly textured and cinematic, each song playing out like the soundtrack to some harrowing journey, evoking underground caverns, windswept icefields, barren fields, forests of dead trees, these tracks are rife with all manner of miniature events, NRT approaching sound less as a composer as a recordist, or an anthropologist, making sure to make note of every detail, no matter how minimal or seemingly inconsequential, as all of those little details, when fused into a larger whole, offer up an incredibly rich and deep world of sound, surrounding and swallowing the listener whole. Stepping through your speakers and emerging in some lost world, dimly lit by some black sun, buildings in ruins, cities in flames, fields run fallow, a landscape of dead leaves and burned bodies, the usual long slow rumbles and shimmering blurred buzz are of course present, but those sounds are just the backdrop for what is really going on, much of it seemingly not musical, it's almost like a field recording made by some time traveler lost in the middle ages, the drone and whir and buzz, merely sonic artifacts from the time travel, or the faulty recording equipment, the actual magic being the lives and worlds captured on tape. Eyes closed, one is able to imagine these other places, sound being as powerful if not more powerful than sight or smell or touch. And sure, cursory listeners will find this to be some gorgeous drone music, perhaps a bit on the grim ominous side for some, but adventurous listeners, willing to strap in, eyes closed, and leap into the abyss, will definitely find much more than mere drone music within Whispers of The Approaching Wastefulness.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
This impressive debut album by New Ruins has been in pretty heavy rotation around here lately. The central Illinois band (consisting of two members and a guest cellist) describe their music as "small town mid-western gothic/folksy guitar-mantras tinted with martial snares and cooing organs." Anyone who has lived in a small town long enough has probably felt the inner struggle between the desire to move to an exciting city and the comfort and ease which comes with the affordability of a small town (especially a college town). Couple this struggle with winters that never seem to end and it's no surprise that The Sound They Make's opener "Ships" explodes with anxious guitar riffs and pressing organ lines that crescendo into melancholic vocals recalling roads too often travelled and pitting urgency against somebody's likely kind reminder that "we have the rest of our lives." This apprehensive eagerness paired with two distinctive vocal ranges that could be a perfect octave apart (imagine if Isaac Brock and Doug Marsch formed a dark folk band) make for an impeccable alt-gothic country album that's already garnered comparisons to John Fahey, Iron and Wine, Old 97's, and Grant Lee Buffalo, but still manages to stand alone. The indie kids are always eager for new alt-gothic country heroes. If New Ruins don't fill that void with "The Sound They Make," they'll certainly cause a flutter of anxious fans awaiting their next release (rumored to be in the works) on which their all-star live support--drummer Roy Ewing (Braid; Very Secretary) and bassist Paul Chastain (Velvet Crush; Matthew Sweet)--will contribute.
You know a record is good, when you have no idea what the hell to say about it. Or if "what the fuck" is the first words that come to mind. Such is the case with this tour only cd-r ep from local twisted psych goth weirdos New Thrill Parade. Part of a burgeoning local scene that includes the Ovens (new record on tUMULt soon), Prizehog, Robocop 3 and a bunch of other dubiously named local noisemakers.
But New Thrill Parade definitely stand out, their dizzyingly druggy cabaret workouts, chiming high end guitars, chaotic drumming, long stretches of doomy Nick Cave like crooning, buzzing bass drones and wild operatic freakouts, like a soundtrack to some super fucked up Tim Burton student film. It's impossible to not imagine some strange stone creatures or gross, tentacled beasts singing the deep vocal parts, and some crazed multi headed ring master type balancing on some equally deformed beast belting out the wailing high parts.
Moody and dramatic and cinematic and over the top. Plenty psychedelic and tripped out and druggy, and really fucking catchy, hooks popping up all over the place, while the band unfurls their peculiar brand of funhouse doom and abandoned amusement park goth, horns bleat and moan sparring with the multiple voices, the vibe is definitely eighties, these guys would have KILLED at L.A.'s Scream club, maybe opening for Jane's Addiction or Tex & The Horseheads, but they take that sound and doll it all up with some more modern lo-fi noise rock heaviness, some warped off kilter over the top psych-glam freakouts, and plenty of textures and layers and effects and ambience.
Still need to see these guys live, might be a disappointment since we're envisioning strange beasts and scary monsters, but that's why the cd is perfect, close your eyes, and let these guys drag you screaming into their cracked and crazed world of sound.
TOUR ONLY, LIMITED TO 200 COPIES, we got a dozen or so, might very well be the only copies we get.
Release me now from my mortal flesh, where all my thoughts look towards death. This blackened void in which I gasp for breath, death release me NOW! Oh, what I mean is, this is the newest release from San Francisco's own twisted goth, mindfreakin art damaged, sorrowfully psychedelic Death Rockers, The New Thrill Parade! Whoa. Woe.
We have reviewed all their previous releases up until now, and luckily for us things just keep getting weirder and weirder and more and more demented in the New Thrill Parade commune. The sound is an angular misanthropic romp. Bass and drums churning out urgent, fractured rhythms, while the guitar cuts the throat of any soul with open ears, with piercing, discordant, mind-bending leads. Everything swirling, and seething madly, till the brain leaks out of the ears, and any thoughts you had before, about music, life, social relations, death, sex, are completely mutated and subverted. It's a jubilant sonic experience, but travels dark roads to come to it. This explanation of NTP's sound world is not unlike those of our past reviews (which you should check out), but Slumber In Colorland presents a marked development in both the bands sound and aesthetic. The intensely orchestrated, and inspired song craft fuckery of this latest venture show the band maturing and really finding their own unique mode of operation, giving this album a consistency not yet found in their previous works. It's like gothy deathrock darkness has finally met its blurry-brained, altered state, tripped out, color smeared polar blood brother! The songs range from depressive dark jazz sounding crooners, to completely fucked up rock fury, with mutilated melodies and disjointed noises. Heavily warped shit! Not so much genre defying, as it is genre defining!
Welcome to New Weird Santa Cruz! New Thrill Parade are not your typical bowl-roasting beach bums. They're more likely to smear their faces with cherry red lip stick and hang out under that bridge from the movie Lost Boys, drinking goats blood and cutting themselves. This shit is GOTH. Fuck yeah. The sound of this record is actually a bit of a tough one to describe. The heart of New Thrill Parade's music lies in the pounding, arrhythmic dark dance created by the sexually charged rhythm section, compelling you to move as though you were mounted by some sort of Yoruba diety. Super discordant guitar lines, soaked in reverb and chorus float atop this propulsive thump. The sax squawks, the sounds of a knife being dragged against a piece of sheet metal creeps through the mix at points, and the vocals HOWL! Vocalist Amitai's yelps and croons push the band's already amazing sound WAY over the top...his lyrics are perfectly dramatic and dark, and his sense of delivery conveys the fucked up, twisted world this band seems to exist in. Favorite tracks include the slow building creep fest "Peace Punch", and the twisted fucked up "Body Ship", which sounds like some evil bubble gum music you might hear in a nightmare after watching too much Twin Peaks. But all the tracks are killer!! For fans of The Birthday Party, Christian Death, and the Butthole Surfers...and any other freaky, fucked up insane band that rules. Also, if you get the chance, SEE THEM LIVE! Amazing theater for sure.
This is a mind fuck of a 12"! We just got our hands on this, The New Thrill Parade's first ever document of their brand of head-trippy angular goth madness, and we could not be more pleased. This EP brings the listener to the edge of neurotic insanity, the place in your mind where shameful thoughts and nervous feelings are waging endless war. Dark, creeping discordances pummeling one and other, skull drilling guitar lines, saxophone squawking, and crooning vocals desperately narrating the most tenebrous thought processes of the human psyche. Heavy.
The ep begins with the drunken swagger of "Gift Horse". Starting slow and low, at a sort of swung pace, vocals sighing deeply, specks of reverby guitar and flittering sax punctuating the creeping crawl of the rhythm section. The chorus bursts in suddenly with a jagged romp, piercing guitars and guttural whoops, reminding us of The Birthday Party at their most frenetic. The second track, "Jealous Brothers" is a bit more rocking, the fucked up guitar lines becoming a little more strident and noisy. The bass lines on this one are throbbingly heavy, with the drummer playing a sort methamphetamine cowboy shuffle. Rounding out the a-side is "Spare My Teeth", starting off with a twisted spazzy groove, guitar wailing, drums churning out a clatter of syncopation, before everything pretty much drops off, and the tempo becomes stretched and abstracted, pushing and pulling with howling vocal lines, and then snapping back into the rocking tempo of the beginning. The song slowly dies, twisting and curling like the end of a fragmented dream.
The b-side starts up where the a-side left off, "Moat" is a riff heavy stomper, but maintains the abstract form of "Spare My Teeth". The tempo is stretched to hell, noisy and arrhythmic at times. The closing track is far and away our favorite. "Little Dancer, Age 14" is a creepfest! Dark and heavy as fuck, starting off with just twangy strung out guitar stabs and funerary sounding organ carrying out the progression, the vocals murmuring in deep tones, lamenting some horrific train of thought. The song has an overwhelmingly elegiac feeling, drifting along like a Lynchian dream (nightmare?), fractured and abstracted. The piece ends beautifully, with tremolo picked wailing guitar melodies, outlining a more major sounding chord progression. A stark contrast from the rest of this minor sounding document. Killer!
This band recently moved to San Francisco from the nefarious beaches of Santa Cruz, and we are glad to have them. They are quickly becoming one of the most interesting and confounding local acts. While a little more raw then the debut full-length (reviewed on list #252) the dark intensity has been present from the beginning. This record is a bad trip, but in the best way! Like the type of nightmare you don't want to wake up from. Fractured and fucked up, noisy and scattered, and all together AMAZING! For fans of The Birthday Party, Public Image Ltd., Swans, Butthole Surfers, Scratch Acid, Lydia Lunch, and all jams damaged and demented. Recommended!
Reissue of rare 1968 collectible from this obscure (but of course legendary) psychedelic San Francisco band. A bit dour in a good way, imagine Moby Grape, with unison harmony vocals like a depressed Mamas and Papas. Another reason to get this is the glorious silver hexagonal digipak, a miniature of the original LP sleeve's "cosmic cube" design. It folds out and everything!
SASSY CUTE BAND ALERT!! AQUARIUS SHIT BAND ALERT!!
"I'm really really sexy. I really don't think you know how sexy I really am. Let me unbutton my shirt and massage my thick carpet of chest hair. Yeah. That's sexy. You know what else is sexy? That sax player behind me. You know it, baby. I think I'll sing with a raspy voice. The chicks, they really dig that. I really know what the ladies want. Me. Of course, because I'm so sexy. I'm also in Girls Vs. Boys. That's a really sexy band, too. But you already know that, because I'm so damn sexy. Have you seen my tattoo? It's really sexy."
This band features members of Girls Against Boys (Scott McCloud and Johnny Temple) and it certainly shows. Actually through the first few tracks of this their fourth album, you might even mistake it for a GVSB album especially compared to their most recent material. The main band line-up is rounded out by Charles Bennington (saxophone), Nick Pelleciotto (drums, ex-Edsel) and Geoff Turner (guitar, ex-Grey Matter), but they're also joined on a handful of tracks by Geoff Sanoff (guitar, keyboards, loops, vocoder), Enrico Biondetti (guitar), and Sophie Toulouse. Past NWK recordings have been much more deeply in the NY arty jazz-rock vein. On This Is Glamorous, the herky-jerk horns and rhythmic twists are much less dominant although they do surface prominently on tracks such as "Real World Tonight". And although Scott McCloud once again dons his hoarse sneering Mark E. Smith-esque vocal hat , in fact, the overall tone of this album is much more sleekly groovin' dance pop rock like... dare we say it? Jesus Jones or Pop Will Eat Itself, and with its sax-driven-ness it's also quite a bit like Morphine too.
MPEG Download: "Real World Tonight" [/audio/newwetkojakrealworld.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Real World Tonight" [/audio/newwetkojakrealworld.m3u]
For a band that has supposedly called it quits, Bedhead sure are keeping pretty active. As a matter of fact, the biggest difference between Bedhead and The New Year is the moniker. The Kadane brothers are still the principal songwriters, the artwork is still steeped in Joy Division-esque minimalism and the album was even recorded by Steve Albini, who recorded Bedhead's 1998 swansong. Chris Brokaw of Codeine and Pullman takes over drumming duties, and the result is a little more pep in their step. So if you're in the mood for Bedhead a little earlier in the day, when thing're sunny and bright, give this a shot. Otherwise, just keep listening to your old Bedhead records late at night.
In fact, if you've never heard the chilling ebb and flow of Bedhead, now is the best time as Touch and Go have reissued all of their previous albums, including the wonderful "Beheaded" and the hard-to-find "whatfunlifewas."
The New Year's second album The End Is Near vividly recalls the fond familiar sounds of those slouchy slowcore bands of the '90s. Heck, it's no wonder 'cause members of The New Year were in a couple of those very bands. Yup, brothers Matt and Bubba Kadane were in the mellower than mellow indie rock combo Bedhead, and drummer Chris Brokaw was in the darkly creeping blues rock band Come. Their second full length is laden with ample melancholic comtemplativeness, and yet some of the songs are comparatively livelier than those of their former incarnations -- more like Sebadoh, Pavement and Seam than the hushed Codeine and Low. Andee also thought they sounded like Wilco (mostly the vocals), while Cup likened it to Arab Strap's Malcolm Middleton. Electric guitars swell from warm delicate strums to full-on waves of washy distortion while the strolling basslines and tight drumming provide the solid foundation for the drowsy boyish spoken-sung vocals.
The list of players says it all: Albert Ayler, Don Cherry, John Tchicai, Roswell Rudd, Gary Peacock and Sunny Murray. Noisy and free and amazing and completely essential.
We're really so excited to finally welcome local label Time Released Sound to the aQuarius family. We've yet to list anything, in part because their releases are so limited, but also, because they sell out so quickly. Every single release, every single copy is an incredible work of art. Each one hand crafted, individually assembled, numbered and hand stamped, letter pressed and printed, the packaging thematically linked to the sound within, with photographs, or old records, strange little knick knacks, clock hands, piano keys, they're really incredible, an absolute labor of love, with most of the limited versions taking hours to assemble, and the fact that Time Released Sound is just one man, makes it all the more impressive. So from here on out, we'll get a limited number of each release, they're quite limited already usually around 70-100 copies. And odds are we won't be able to get more than 10-15, but trust us, they're worth it, sonically beautifully, and visually stunning. There will be regular non-art editions of some of the releases, much less limited, and thus less expensive, but if you're after one of the limited editions, you'll want to act fast.
This one is already sold out, we have the LAST 6 copies, limited to just 78 copies (that number will make sense in a sec), this is a 3" cd, affixed to an actual 100 year old, 5.5" mini 78 rpm record, with the cd-r and the record with matching labels, both housed in a black, holed record sleeve, wrapped with a series of printed cards, those cards wrapped in vellum, with a tag affixed to the cards by string, the black sleeve hand printed. All of that housed in a stamped and stickered envelope, each with an actual stamp, it's quite stunning. And the 78 rpm is definitely playable, just be very very careful, those old records are incredibly fragile, and brittle, which is another way the art ties in with the music, Newlyn's record a series of delicate miniatures, lush pianoscapes, wreathed in reverb, occasionally flecked with strange machine like sounds, tinkling melodies, swirling strings, cinematic and hauntingly dreamy, a sort of otherworldly chamber music, hushed and intimate, melancholy and oh so lovely.
Be warned, these do NOT travel well, if you buy one of these, they need to be packaged like crazy! Tons of packing, loads of protection from the postman, or the other items in your order. The label suggested we only sell these locally, but we figured some of our mailorder folks would probably dig, so be warned re: the packaging, and if the shellac record does crack, we can't replace it, although maybe the label would see fit to send you a new 78!
While we've raved about the insane and insanely elaborate packaging from local boutique label Time Released Sound, we try to stress that all this fancy pants packaging wouldn't mean shit though if the music wasn't able to stand on its own, and thankfully, since a lot of the TRS releases sell out before we can get our hands on them, or are just a bit too pricey for some folks, they also come available as more affordable discs in less extravagant packaging, which is especially good news, cuz it would be sad for music like this to only make it into the ears of the 80 people who managed to nab the deluxe version.
We reviewed David Newlyn's last release on TRS, and sold out in a heartbeat, and while we weren't able to get any copies of the super deluxe version of this new one, we got a handful of the standard version, but it's the sounds that count this time around, and they are divine, two lengthy tracks of haunting modern classical music, lush soaring strings and haunting melodies, melancholy swells and dreamlike drifts, the sounds gradually growing more abstract, the effects slowly dialed up, the sort of chamber music of the first few minutes soon pulled apart into something more abstract and spaced out, a whirling drifty ambience, all bleary shimmer and softly reverbed thrum, laced with glitches and subtle electronic interference, not to mention what sounds like banjo or mandolin at one point. So lovely.
The second track is even more pastoral, hazy and gauzy and washed out, long layered drones softly undulate over all manner of mysterious field recordings, delicate piano melodies, buried operatic vocals, foot steps, voices, children playing, all beneath a fog of long tranced out drones and looped string shimmer, finishing with a surprising bit of drum driven distorted noisiness!
Not as limited as the deluxe version, but limited nonetheless, so grab one before they're gone!
While he certainly sounds a bit more world weary with a warble of uncertainty in his voice in the opening track (and looks a bit more scruffily bearded in the inside photo), have no fear this is the A.C. Newman we all know and love! We have to admit that the new solo album from the New Pornographers' lord of the manor caught us a bit by surprise. We simply didn't expect it just yet! Hmmm, maybe the batteries in our trusty NP radar are on the fritz!
Anyhoo, we welcome Get Guilty gleefully with open arms and ears! As with his previous solo outing 2004's The Slow Wonder, the energy is definitely less exuberant and the mood far mellower than that of his main band, but the pop songs are as stellar as ever. He can at once nail both the heartswellingly grand and the sensitive smart guy introspective with the sweep of his songwriting quill. Not surprisingly after only a couple of listens, many of Newman's crafty pop hooks have embedded themselves solidly in our craniums. The sweet wistful mandolin lace air of "The Heartbreak Rides" is a definite standout, as is "Like A Hit Man, Like A Dancer" which with its similar instrumentation, female backing vocals and peppery tone could easily be seen as an epilogue or afterthought (not an outtake, mind you!) to the NPs' Challengers album... actually many of the other songs can too! Soooo, needless to say, "Very recommended if you like...."? You know it! Really, the only less that splendid thing about this release just might be the cd's art design and digipak packaging which sort made us think "local band demo". 'Tis a minor distraction though. Pssst, his backing band this time features Mates Of State's Kori and Jason which honeys up the musical confection quotient even more!
Now available on vinyl too!
While he certainly sounds a bit more world weary with a warble of uncertainty in his voice in the opening track (and looks a bit more scruffily bearded in the inside photo), have no fear this is the A.C. Newman we all know and love! We have to admit that the new solo album from the New Pornographers' lord of the manor caught us a bit by surprise. We simply didn't expect it just yet! Hmmm, maybe the batteries in our trusty NP radar are on the fritz!
Anyhoo, we welcome Get Guilty gleefully with open arms and ears! As with his previous solo outing 2004's The Slow Wonder, the energy is definitely less exuberant and the mood far mellower than that of his main band, but the pop songs are as stellar as ever. He can at once nail both the heartswellingly grand and the sensitive smart guy introspective with the sweep of his songwriting quill. Not surprisingly after only a couple of listens, many of Newman's crafty pop hooks have embedded themselves solidly in our craniums. The sweet wistful mandolin lace air of "The Heartbreak Rides" is a definite standout, as is "Like A Hit Man, Like A Dancer" which with its similar instrumentation, female backing vocals and peppery tone could easily be seen as an epilogue or afterthought (not an outtake, mind you!) to the NPs' Challengers album... actually many of the other songs can too! Soooo, needless to say, "Very recommended if you like...."? You know it! Really, the only less that splendid thing about this release just might be the cd's art design and digipak packaging which sort made us think "local band demo". 'Tis a minor distraction though. Pssst, his backing band this time features Mates Of State's Kori and Jason which honeys up the musical confection quotient even more!
Not sure why we didn't review this when it came out last year. Obviously everyone here loves the new Pornographers, and most of us love long defunct power poppers Zumpano even more, and the one thing those two bands have in common is Mr. Carl A.C. Newman, who sang in both, and whose solo records are pretty dang great as well. This new one is no different, the sound lush and layered, gorgeously arranged, a bit more laid back, the sound seeming to tend toward classic pop of the past, Van Dyke Parks, Zombies, Kinks, classic rock, singer songwriters, it's all the stuff that defined the sound of Zumpano, and New Pornographers to a lesser degree, but continues to sound so good, but then Newman has one of those voices that could sing the phonebook, and were this a different time, say the late sixties or early seventies, Newman would be one of THOSE singer songwriters, and would most likely be revered like Elton John, or Scott Walker, or Nilssen, his voice so distinctive, and so gorgeous, the songs here subtly catchy, and while we may have burnt out on the New Pornographers, every time we get out hands on a new Carl Newman record, we're reminded just why we like him so much. And as you might imagine, the best ones here remind us of Zumpano, like "Encyclopedia Of Classic Takedowns" and "There's Money In New Wave", but really if you're a fan of classic pop, it's hard to go wrong with Mr. Newman, and Shut Down The Streets is another winner!
New Pornographers (and former Zumpano) bandleader Carl Newman strikes out on his own with a new solo album, though you'd hardly know it wasn't just a new New Pornographers record when you slap it on. And we say this with the utmost esteem -- this man wears some huge songwriting shoes. Probably most distinguishable from the New Pornographers sound is the slower tempo on most of the tracks here, and maybe just a teeny bit less bouncy on the tunes with faster tempos. Like his work with Zumpano, and more recently The New Pornographers, Newman is not only the consummate songwriter, but arranger as well. His penchant for extracting the history of 70's pop and finessing it into his own sound is truly remarkable. Where others may come in with a cleaver and coarsely chop away with musical references and irony filled homages, Newman subtly infuses his work such that you find yourself constantly asking "what band is this reminding me of?" (almost the same effect that Bjorn Olsson's instrumental nuggets seem to have on us). Though if there's one group that we can definitely point to and say confidently that Mr. Newman has been listening to a great deal it's ELO -- throughout, Newman uses the trademark high choruses (we were even convinced that Ms. Neko Case had snuck into a recording session or two). So in lieu of the next New Pornographers (or that fabled lost third Zumpano record), we can highly recommend this tight, fat free collection of clean, wholesome, kick-ass rock n' roll to be your summer soundtrack.
Joanna Newsom's follow-up to last year's acclaimed musical epic Ys gives us a lighter glimpse into how she has transcribed Van Dyke Park's heady-yet-playful orchestrations into use for her current touring band (the jokingly-monikered "YS Street Band").
The three songs here �one new, and two reworked from past releases, all beginning with the letter C, for some reason, � are accompanied by banjo, accordion, guitar, drums and a musical saw. The new song, "Colleen", is "Katie Cruel" by way of "Riverdance", a Celtic-tinged jig about a woman who has seemed to have forgotten her mysterious past. It's the kind of song-story that would have easily fit on Ys, if she didn't already have "Monkey and Bear". Revisiting "Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie" from The Milk-eyed Mender for a third time (counting the version on her first self-released demo, Walnut Whales), Newsom thankfully doesn't add too much dressing to its spare arrangement except for the inclusion of well-placed vocal accompaniments. But the price of admission is all about her reworking of Cosmia , the final (and shortest) track from Ys. On that album the song with its heavy orchestrations served as the soaring climax. Here she nearly doubles its length and by substituting the string section for banjo and musical saw makes it airier and more expansive, allowing the band to break free for a bit and kick it up some without losing any of the song's emotional weight. Nice!
Less immediate than her striking debut Milk Eyed Mender and not as epic sounding as her last album Ys, the new triple album from Joanna Newsom finds her as visionary, intimate and extraordinary as ever! She has earned and deserved the right to require her listeners to luxuriate in her sounds, to have the patience and to focus their full attention on her record while listening. This isn't the sort of record you just casually throw on in a room full of people and quickly make a judgment about, it's a nuanced, dense and meticulously crafted sprawling work that requires a little dedication. It's the kind of record that when played in the store, its hard to focus on and really become immersed in, but once we brought it home with us and listened in the solitude of our bedrooms and in our wanderings through the city, especially on headphones, the songs began to blossom and expand and move us in such thrilling ways.
While she will always be known for her extraordinary harp playing, Have One On Me shows her integrating the harp more seamlessly with other instrumentation. There's plenty of piano and moments of sweeping soundscapery and commanding drums, but not to fear, the majestic harp still shines through. While initial reviews we've read of the record keep throwing around Joni Mitchell comparisons, we don't feel that at all; instead we do feel a HUGE Kate Bush influence at work, much, much more so than any of her previous releases. The way in which the songs are crafted in such an intimate manner, and the surprise moments of a song when an eruption of sound comes when least expected. Being that many of us here at AQ are huge Kate Bush admirers we love seeing someone follow in her footsteps with equal intelligence, sophisticated word play and deep running emotion.
In a day and age when our culture is more ADD than ever and we are constantly scrambling for instant gratification, it's so refreshing and rewarding to encounter a collection of songs that requires patience, and one's full attention, that fulfills and enriches and offers so much, with more secrets and musical nuances revealed with every spin, a glorious reward in sound, given to only those pure of heart and open of ear. Another striking achievement from one of the most talented songwriters of our generation!
Well, ok, we should mention that there's a few grumpy nay-sayers here at AQ, who think maybe it's just a bit TOO much Kate Bush, lacking some originality there, but then again, some of those folks were never that into Newsom in the first place, but do in fact like Kate Bush, so they ought to count their blessings 'cause they're gonna be hearing this playing in the store A LOT.
Everybody who loves San Francisco fairytale folk singer/harpist Joanna Newsom raise your hands -- we know there's a lot of you out there! We want your attention 'cause this lil' cd is a special treat for fans. It's got one previously unreleased Newsom track "What We Have Known", plus "Sprout And The Bean" taken from her smash hit (well, 'round these parts it seems anyway) album The Milk-Eyed Mender! And, better yet even, this also includes a video for said track! Obviously, it's single for fans only, but we imagine quite a few you won't be able to resist...
Imagine this scene... as the lights dim a lone figure creeps into the spotlight, it's Bjork! and she's singing the song "It's A Hard Knock Life" from the Broadway musical Annie. Not such a farfetched thought when you think of how much Bjork seems to love Broadway productions, but on The Milk-Eyed Mender it isn't Bjork in the spotlight, it's SF sweetheart Joanna Newsom. Indeed, her voice bears much more than a passing resemblance to that of the Icelandic deity. Its childlike qualities are matched by some equally childlike wonky keyboards in one track, and the general twee simplicity of her music overall. One customer of ours offered the following description of Newsom: "the lovechild of Bjork and the Incredible String Band's Robin Williamson, born in Moominland."
This is the big-time Drag City debut for Ms. Newsom, who's homemade cd-rs we've carried in the past (from which some of this material is drawn, re-recorded). We'll freely admit that her rather cutesy, affected sub-Bjork-ish vocal style may be an acquired taste; it seems that seeing her perform in person makes a big difference, as everyone we know who has attended one of Joanna's solo shows has been entranced and enthused. Heck I think some of 'em fell in love. And love it or hate it, this album really IS all about her singing -- her voice and lyrics -- backed pretty much only by the angelic pluck/strum of her harp. Harp? That's right, Newsom is a classical harpist, whom you may already have heard on the Nervous Cop disc with the drummers from Deerhoof and Hella. This is much different than that, of course. It's Newsom's own thing...simple, folky music, her little-girl vocal stylings, and otherworldly, fairytale persona... something we suspect a lot of people will end up liking, once (if?) attuned to it. After all, "true beauty is difficult but rewarding" says the same customer quoted above.
Imagine this scene... as the lights dim a lone figure creeps into the spotlight, it's Bjork! and she's singing the song "It's A Hard Knock Life" from the Broadway musical Annie. Not such a farfetched thought when you think of how much Bjork seems to love Broadway productions, but on The Milk-Eyed Mender it isn't Bjork in the spotlight, it's SF sweetheart Joanna Newsom. Indeed, her voice bears much more than a passing resemblance to that of the Icelandic deity. Its childlike qualities are matched by some equally childlike wonky keyboards in one track, and the general twee simplicity of her music overall. One customer of ours offered the following description of Newsom: "the lovechild of Bjork and the Incredible String Band's Robin Williamson, born in Moominland."
This is the big-time Drag City debut for Ms. Newsom, who's homemade cd-rs we've carried in the past (from which some of this material is drawn, re-recorded). We'll freely admit that her rather cutesy, affected sub-Bjork-ish vocal style may be an acquired taste; it seems that seeing her perform in person makes a big difference, as everyone we know who has attended one of Joanna's solo shows has been entranced and enthused. Heck I think some of 'em fell in love. And love it or hate it, this album really IS all about her singing -- her voice and lyrics -- backed pretty much only by the angelic pluck/strum of her harp. Harp? That's right, Newsom is a classical harpist, whom you may already have heard on the Nervous Cop disc with the drummers from Deerhoof and Hella. This is much different than that, of course. It's Newsom's own thing...simple, folky music, her little-girl vocal stylings, and otherworldly, fairytale persona... something we suspect a lot of people will end up liking, once (if?) attuned to it. After all, "true beauty is difficult but rewarding" says the same customer quoted above.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
One of the most anticipated releases this year, Joanna Newsom's second full length Ys (fyi: apparently pronounced 'ease', not 'wise') probably needs no introduction. Before we all drown in the river of salivation, perhaps we should just ring the supper bell and holler, "Come 'n' get it!"
Have you been hearing the rather loud murmurs about how Joanna Newsom is telling all that -- contrary to all of the press portraits of her resembling an Appalachian woodland waif -- she is not simply a folk songstress? Us too, and well, on an initial couple of listens to Ys, it does seem to be true. Yes, she has reinvented herself, somewhat aggressively distancing herself from the young indie folk scene that she helped spawn. It appears all that lingers from The Milk-Eyed Mender is her trusty harp, though even it claims less of the spotlight. Ys most definitely shows much artistic growth and aspiration with a far broader creative scope and production sense. Really, if there's any question that Newsom (and her label Drag City) are goin' for the serious artiste cred, you need look no further than the big gun support and chaperoning courtesy of top shelf luminaries Van Dyke Parks, Steve Albini and Jim O'Rourke. Not unexpectedly, THEY do amazing work on this album. It's stunningly beautiful. With a supporting cast like that, Newsom was clearly afforded full freedom to focus on realizing her vision. But what is that vision? We're not being completely facetious when we suggest two words -- Kate Bush. Heck, she's certainly already captivated the imagination of a similarly obsessive adoring fanbase as Ms Bush's, and maybe just as many naysayers. The mere mention of either artist's name triggers immediate passionate love/hate reactions. Her overall presentation seems so directly inspired by the venerable artist's own eccentric dramatics that you'd almost expect her to break out into "Babooshka" at any moment! Speaking of which with regards to the vocal department, the Kate and Joanna fans around here have likened her pixie-esque singing on this album to Kate Bush as a child minstrel (mind you, the non-Kate and Joanna fans might rephrase that less kindly as Kate Bush as a squeeze toy). Regardless, this is quite the ambitious work. In each of the five lengthy tracks (the longest is 16 minutes!), she unveils her lyrics in theatrical, highly literary fashion. It's still the storybook stuff of romantic fairy tales and whimsical fables, but it's set far less in nature than the rural hued Milk Eyed Mender. It evokes fantastic jewel-toned interiors, stages, salons, tea rooms. At once, dainty and sumptuous. The album defies expectations in wonderful, enchanting ways.
Electronic "nintendo metal" from Norway.
Yet another blast of fantastically noisy indie rock from China, this time from a group called Next Years Love, who sound gloriously distorted and super blown out, the guitars crumbling and noisy, the drums a simple tribal pound, everything wreathed in psychedelic noisiness, but then the vocals, a wild Kim Gordon like caterwaul, which gives the sound a definite Sonic Youth style noise rock vibe. The flipside, dials it back a bit, getting a bit more broody and introspective, a little bit shoegaze-y, sounding almost something that could be on Sacred Bones or Captured tracks, but still rife with plenty of seriously crunchy noise guitar.
Pressed on bright blue vinyl!!
A necessary resurfacing of the NF Orchest. This was an East Bay post-noise project spearheaded by Jim Kaiser, Angela Hsu, and A.C. Way many years ago, marked by leaden electronics and acoustic dinscraping. The group found themselves with the rather trite problem of having too much on their plate - Kaiser performing almost constantly with Hsu, Thomas Carnacki, and irr.app.(ext.) amongst others; and Way taking up the cause of Maleficia, Carrion, and probably a few other blackened projects festering in Oakland warehouses. After five years since the last time we heard from the NF Orchest, the three found themselves plugged into the same PA at the Luggage Store in early 2010, where Kaiser bowed his trusted bicycle wheel, Hsu slashed across her violin, and Way produced all sorts of dread-inspiring, subterranean noises. The resulting sounds have the feel of being recorded way deep underground, with a molten snarl of hellish drone bubbling about atonal plucks and scrapes spiralling through phased delay patterns. Yeah, the violin improvisations in abandoned buildings do resonate with the Hsu / Kaiser end of the NF Orchest spectrum, but Way's heavy, black drones put this into an entire other catagory of spectral dark ambience.
NF Orchest is a Bay Area electro-acoustic / noisenik / improv trio centered around the activities of Angela Hsu, Andrew Way, and James Kaiser. While Hsu has connections with Mills College, Way and Kaiser have performed extensively around the Bay Area as French Radio with Bruce Anderson; Kaiser also records solo under the moniker Petit Mal. Bowed metals, damaged turntables, tumbled rocks, screeched violin pushed through squawk boxes, and the improbabilities of feedback all come together in the density of raw sound of NF Orchest that reflects the same interest in acoustic sonology as heard in Organum and Tony Conrad. Couple those influences with a eagerness to set off depth-charge rumbles, subterranean detonations, and Skaters-esque lo-fi dissonance, NF Orchest adds a particular noise-junk malice that is all their own. Yup, this is a super limited CD-R release of two live sessions recorded in July, 2005. Only 104 copies.
A very nice pairing of East Bay improvising post-industrialists NF Orchest and the abstractionist filmmaker Jerry Smith. NF Orchest's contribution is a documentation of a live action at The Lab in San Francisco, opening for irr. app. (ext.) back in 2010. The turgid atmosphere is set through a bed of gray crumbling noises, sculpted through murky electronics and shortwave radio noises. Out of this carcinogenic haze, NF Orchest scribbles slow gestures of creepy-crawling drones and nails-on-the-chalkboard screeches from viola and prepared bicycle wheel, whilst the bed of noise detonates in a cavernous hall with a Maurizio Bianchi-like pall of ash and slumped depression working throughout the metallic scrapings. Jerry Smith's video was conceived after the performance had transpired, and he manipulated found footage to match the sounds' progression. Ghostly flickerings of light emerge from static landscapes, darkened through various masks and overlays from additional footage, prismatic refractions, and residues from grainy filmstock. A slow-motion series of watery reflections of light on water is transformed into a choreography of near calligraphic marks dancing on a black backdrop. As one of those smoldering crescendos of noise builds towards the end of this 27 minute video, arcing flares of color jump-cut back and forth next to deep blue tidal waves, spiralling mandalas, and geometric elements. Limited to something like 50 copies.
Man, have we been waiting for this! Why? Well, does Chrissy Zebby Tembo mean anything to you? The group that backed him up on his wonderful My Ancestors album from 1974 have a rare record of their own that's just been reissued, the electrifying indeed 45,000 Volts, and it's another killer document of Zambian heavy fuzz rock ("Zamrock"!) from the '70s! Founded by Paul Dobson Nyirongo, otherwise known as Paul Ngozi, a Hendrix-styled guitarist (he even did the trick of playing with his teeth), the Ngozi Family band released this winning album in 1977, and now that we've heard it, it goes right to the top of the selection of awesome garage fuzz rock from Africa in our collections, a small but ever growing category thanks to ruling reissues like this (we're also looking forward to Shadoks' impending cd edition of The Witch album, also from Zambia, next month, you should be too). And it's not so lo-fi as that Tembo disc, much better sound, though the production still sounds very "live", we think it's perfect, capturing both the thud and grace of the Ngozi Family's music.
There's ten tracks (including one bonus from a 7"), containing so much raw FUZZ! Burbling, sizzling, wah wah action. Along with wicked beats, soulful sincere vocals (some songs in English, others in a Zambian language, Nyanja perhaps), and groove that just won't quit. Most of the tracks are in a Western psych-rock style with distinct African influences, though a couple tracks near the end of the disc are much more like traditional Afrobeat, with hand percussion and mass chanting vocals. As far as the rock stuff goes, even when they kick back on the mellower, more sunshiney numbers there's still lotsa fuzz and snappy beats. And Ngozi actually translates to Danger in English, so you know that they don't neglect the harder and heavier fare on this album. Particularly proto-metal-ish is "Night Of Fear", with immensely fat riffing and echoed lyrics about graveyards and nightmares! Here and elsewhere we're reminded of Los Dug Dugs. Heck even a little Blue Cheer. And of course Ofege and Chrissy Zebby Tembo and others from Africa.
Timeless stuff, highly recommended. Tembo's My Ancestors, reissued on the same label, is already out of print on cd, and this reish is equally limited too, 500 copies only, so get it while you can. FYI there's also a vinyl version but our supplier is already out of those, at the moment anyway, if we're able to get more we'll list it then.
African garage fuzz fans listen up, we've got another nice "Zam-Rock" reissue here! Guitarist/vocalist Paul Ngozi (1949-1989), according to the adulatory liner notes in the cd booklet, was one of the Zambian music industry's biggest stars, at the forefront of the "Zam-Rock" phenomenon in the '70s. Those same notes explain he took the name 'Ngozi', which means danger, "because each time he took to the stage, people went crazy and it was all disaster"! Apparently he did the whole Hendrix routine of playing the guitar with his teeth, etc. We had heard of Ngozi before 'cause of previous reissues of his band the Ngozi Family's albums 45,000 Volts (1977) and My Ancestors (1974, with Chrissy Zebby Tembo). Both were KILLER, and so is this, a record originally released by a Kenyan label in 1976.
The Ghetto's nine tracks feature both hard-hitting riff rockers and more gently loping, lazy grooves. The singing is lovely & lilting some of the time, urgent & impassioned at others. The relatively lo-fi recording renders Ngozi's amped-up guitar fuzz kind of pleasantly 'soft' but still hella distorted. Lyrically, he tackles some heavy subjects here, like "Suicide", and starving children "In The Ghetto". It's spiritual too, with the song "Jesus Christ" being a most fuzzed out headbanger about Our Savior. Most of the songs are in English, but a few are in Ngozi's native tongue. If you've heard 45,000 Volts, or other Zam-Rock like The Witch and Rikki Ililonga, you pretty much know how rad this is already; it's got the fuzz, the funk, the African vibe� great stuff! Those liner notes also mention the titles of several other albums that Ngozi recorded, among them one called Heavy Metal (!) that we really hope gets reissued sometime too!
Featuring the singer from Limited Express (Has Gone?), Ni Hao! is an all-girl Japanese art-rock trio: two on bass, one on drums, all of 'em on vocals. Lots and lots of vocals, in complex arrangements. The whole shebang is quite energetic and precise, and should appeal to fans of Limited Express and Ex-Girl. Includes a spirited cover of the Ramones' "Do You Remember Rock 'n' Roll Radio?" and also three bonus computer-only video interview clips with each of the band members (in Japanese with English subtitles).
You've probably never heard of Nibiru (this Nibiru anyway, though maybe you're deep into Sumerian mythology and/or Babylonian astronomy and are familiar with the term in other contexts!), but if you're at all a fan of throbbing, spaced-out sludge psych then please pay attention. Before writing this review, we put a tag on this in the store that just said "Ritualistic Occult Italian Doom" and that managed to sell a copy or two already, but more can be said about it. To elaborate, this is the debut full-length from an esoteric Italian trio who play totally-trance inducing, heavy rhythmic ritualistic stoner sludge. UFOmammut is an obvious reference point, Nibiru are equally fuzzed-out and head-nodding, but have some characteristics unique to themselves, notably their vocal stylings, which bring in an undercurrent of 'world music', the heavily effected vocals sounding like distorted muezzin wails, or even digitized Tuvan throat singing. The electronic treatment of the vocals kind of reminds us of the nefarious Auto-Tune, but instead of making 'em sound like Cher or Britney Spears, Nibiru's hypothetical version of Auto-Tune is set on 'guttural alien shaman' or something like that! The singing is thus oddly melodic, but also otherworldly. It's definitely distinctive and effective in creating their primal, droned-out, mesmeric, magickal mood. Helping with that too, are all the thick effects-laden guitar/synth/organ textures and lumbering, staggering layers of rhythmic pound. Right from the smoothed out grind of epic 18 minute opener "Invokation I: The Acid Skull", Nibiru never really let up, the listener transported into their mystic realm of dreamtime, doomic dervish sounds for the duration. Fans of such heaviness as Gnod, Bong, OM, Zoroaster, UFOmammut, Los Natas/Ararat, and Lord Of Doubts' Eastern/Buddhist ceremonial sprawl, would do well to investigate forthwith.
Compact disc limited to 300 copies.
