The fact that there's a movie called Wicker Park is almost as bad as the fact that there was a movie a few years ago called "The Mission". And the fact that Josh Hartnett is in it doesn't make us any more likely to see it. Nor surprisingly does the amazing blonde on the cover who we assume is Hartnett's love interest in the film. Probably the most fascinating thing about this soundtrack is that it definitively marks the fact that WE, US, you and me, our generation, people JUST LIKE you and me, have infiltrated the motion picture industry and the advertising world and are using the music you or I would pick for a movie or put on a mix tape. Kind of cool. But also kind of creepy. Nick Drake or Tortoise on a car commercial? What about a major Hollywood motion picture, starring a current hearthrob featuring *rare* and *unreleased* tracks from...Death Cab For Cutie, Broken Social Scene, Postal Service, Snow Patrol, Mazzy Star, the Shins, Mates Of State, Mogwai and on and on. It's actually a pretty awesome soundtrack / mix. Worth it just for the Postal Service's awesome version of Phil Collins' "Against All Odds"!!
It's been ages since we've reviewed anything from aQ beloved soundmaker Simon Wickham-Smith, but A Seventh Persimmon is the perfect way to get reacquainted. Three long tracks, totalling over 60 minutes, all three minimal and delicate, the first mostly piano, gently and barely effected, the notes allowed plenty of time to drift and hover and decay, very Eno-esque for sure, but filtered through that distinctly DIY, underground cd-r filter, adding grit and texture, some lo-fi whir and hiss, to an otherwise gorgeously ephemeral drift. The second track is even more minimal, a symphony of barely there buzz, processed and sculpted into strange abstract shapes, as if W-S composed the track using just the buzz of various household appliances, the fridge, the computer, the heater, all emanating that whispery hiss, but then, strange glitchy almost-vocals surface, burbling up from below, peppering the otherwise microscopic landscape of muted buzz.
The closing track is epic, a tumbling multicolored array of warm glowing tones, underwater textures, tangled dizzying melodies, like a symphony of calliopes playing on the ocean floor, or that first track looped and layered over and over and over, skittery, warped, warbly, woozy, streaks and blurs and smears, processed and looped, shimmering and swooping backwards and forwards, soft focus, a meticulously jumbled bit of underwater psychedelica, nods to Oval for sure, rendered in a slow sifting stasis, a waking dreamstate, where sounds and colors and shapes merge into sweet sweet music.
Yet another earful from Campbell Kneale's always impressive Celebrate Psi Phenomenon label. This double cd-r is a companion of sorts to an earlier Wickham-Smith release, Twofordancin', which was a strange ambien ethnic rhtymic workout als Muslimgauze. It seems that Twofordancin' was in fact two separate pieces put together, so what we've got here is the two original pieces pulled apart and presented independently. One disc sounds quite similar to the Twofordancin' combo, albeit a tad more stripped down. A simple shuffling rhythm, nestled in random ambien detritus with occasional backward swoops and studio twiddles. The other disc is much more abstract, offering up a series of glitches and creaks and stutters, as well as some distant chordal swells and even more distant tribal vocalizing. Pretty cool listen even if you don't have the Twofordancin' combo, in fact they might even work better on their own.
Three lengthy droning pieces from Richard Young's collaborative partner that were composed respectively for Korg synthesizer, Peruvian recorder, and didjeridu. The first two pieces are hypnotically beautiful and somehow incorporate the straining of effort which is a Wickham-Smith trademark. However, I hate to say it; but Wickham-Smith, a Scotsman whose previous work has always been interesting and often challenging, made a questionable decision to record with didjeridu - the now tepid sound of advertisers who insist on something 'exotic' to describe the Subaru Outback wagon.
What would a cd-r label be without a contribution from AQ fave Simon Wickham-Smith? And it seems like he can do no wrong. Two 35 minute tracks of shimmering, crystalline, high end tinkle, keening synth melodies, and warbly low-end pulses. Track one sounds like Sunroof! playing Ravi Shankar, or a raga version of Tubular Bells played by the Dead C. or something. A static, drone ritual with superdistorted vocals that wail otherworldly spirituals over the gorgeous din.
There's that kind of song / piece that I never get tired of, those epic, endless high end modern ragas, all wailing feedback ans upper register shimmer. That thing that Matthew Bower (Skullflower, Sunroof!), Campbell Kneale (Birchville Cat Motel), Neil Campbell (Vibracathedral Orchestra), and a few others seem to be able to unleash effortlessly. Well, if you hadn't already, add Wickham-Smith to this exclusive group of noisemakers and use the second track on Dyro to make your case. This has everything you could want. Gorgeous, droning, gauze-y, otherworldly, transcendental and just fucking perfect.
Purportedly Wickham-Smith's 'religious music' record, 'Extreme Bukake' (named for a style of problematic Japanese porn, the sleeve even has a barely disguised example) is an expansive, rich and captivating exploration into WS's past and present experiences with
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Sometime partner of Richard Youngs, Simon Wickham-Smith has created fo 'Giladji' an obliquely beautiful record for glass harmonica. High-end shimmering drones creep particularly close to the threshold beyond which adjectives like piercing and painful would be applied, but Wickham-Smith's restraint is the key to the success of this record. Giladji is one of those records that seems a perfect complement to the majority of releases from the Table of the Elements label.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Housed in a simple but very earthy-styley brown cardboard sleeve, Rapt is one of the latest solo offerings from Simon Wickham-Smith. He's an experimental musician perhaps best known for his collaborations with fellow UK eccentric Richard Youngs. Rapt would seem to be another example of Wickham-Smith's embrace of computer technology. But this isn't yr ordinary laptop electronica. No sir. A former Buddhist monk (or something like that), Wickham-Smith has devoted much of this disc to what sounds like an Eastern religious chant or prayer, chopped up and looped and layered into a cacophonous, yet mesmerizing 35 minute piece entitled "Heaven's Gate Sankirtan". At least two voices, male and female, become a multitude. Now with most 'experimental' music, this could be an end in itself, a sonic concept only, but in Wickham-Smith's case, his obvious religious interests/beliefs compel us to wonder what does he mean this to mean? What had his looping and editing added to the original source material? We can't answer that...but for all we know the original wasn't a prayer, but just someone yelling in a market, and now it's a mantra... Moving on to track two, we get more voices but they're buried in an entirely different sort of static-y drone. That's another really nice sixteen minutes. And this being a Wickham-Smith record, each subsequent track (there's four more) is quite different as well, exploring other mixtures of noise, drone, and speech.
Some of you must remember the Simon Wickham-Smith disc Twofordancin', a sort of out of left field blast of house-y trip hop electronica. Which threw us for a loop at first, but ended up getting crazy play in the store.
So when we heard about this new collection, a triple disc spanning 8 years, because of the title we were maybe expecting more of the same. And we got it. The opening track here, from way back in 1999, is a nearly half hour jam, all simple percussion, and house music whistle, looped and hypnotic, again it takes a second, but once you get into it, you're hooked. In the background is a thick distorted whir, there are occasional bits of strange effects and processed vocals, but for the most part it's a killer stripped down groove.
But surprisingly, that's it for the groove, the rest of disc one jumps to the 2000s, and we're back on more familiar ground. "Sealight", from 2000, is a barely moving shimmering whisper of a song, high end streaks smoothed into oceanic swells, everything glimmering and glistening, muted and minimal. Quite lovely. "The Horizontality Of Saskatchewan" (2202) is a strange gnarled guiatarscape, the riffs distorted and crumbling, sounding a bit like damaged bagpipes, or some lost Daniel Higgs jam, melodies lurching and threatening to fall apart, lots of whir and buzz, on closer listening maybe that's not a guitar but a pump organ, minimal percussion, very haunting and hypnotic. Track 4 is brand new, recorded this year, and is another super minimal dronescape, lots of glitch and click and whir, but all muted into a subtly pulsing melody, eventually building into a distorted blown out swirl of processed vocals, Eastern melodies, and thick grinding buzz.
The second disc begins with the warped warble of "Cool Memories" from 2004. a seasick backwards dreamworld of subtle buzz, mumbled voices, and a gorgeously woozy main melody. "Angels And Birds And The Coming Of Night" is the centerpiece of the second disc, recorded in 2004 as well, and clocking in at 45 minutes, an epic expanse of soft focus fuzz and billowing metallic drones, dense and lustrous, dark and dreamlike. The disc closes with 2005's "Cool Memories II", a sonic addendum to part one, the mumbled backwards swoon, now peppered with bits of glitch and smears of static.
The final disc in the set is a live set recorded earlier this year in Paris, a 48 minute stretch of high end minimalism, a flickering fluttering upper register electronic trill, oscillating endlessly, is spread out over almost the entire length of the entire performance, with subtle sonar like overtones and subtle low end throbs, until the flutter begins to fluctuate, and suddenly the track is a twisting and tangled squall of warped synth, blurred effects and processed vocals.
As always, packaged in that instantly recognizable Celebrate Psi Phenomenon wallpaper packaging. Inserts and liner notes for each disc, and as always, EXTREMELY LIMITED.
Now this was a bit of a surprise. Especially coming from Simon Wickham-Smith, although by now we should maybe expect the unexpected from W-S. One single seventy five minute track, an endlessly looped tripped out hip hop beat, with stuttery vocal samples in the background, chanting and tribal, but low enough in the mix that they just sounds like random warbling and rumbling. Had trouble getting our heads around this at first, but after a few minutes, it sort of grabs hold of you, with its strangely hypnotic repetition, and you sort of drift away on a slowly shifting current of tribal percussion and strange ambient sounds. Very reminiscent of Muslimgauze. As always, limited too!
Recorded 3 years ago and only now finally being released, this is Wickham-Smith and Young's umpteenth record together and bears quite a few similarities to their last, 'Metallic Sonatas'. The main similarity being the use of the laptop to effect their
Shimmering sheets of guitar feedback and other lovely sounds. A strong statement and a pretty recording.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Record number two from these East coast dream poppers, and like their self titled debut, it's another lush and luxurious collection of soft focus jangle, ethereal Mazzy Star like vox and wistful minor key melodies, all woven into dark billows on washed out melody and ephemeral grey skied drift. Like their cover of Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game", this whole record evokes that same sort of brooding, haunting, swoonsome minimal shimmer, although this time around, the production is definitely more polished, giving these songs some heft, sonic and emotional, letting the sound blossom into mini jangle pop epics, adding all sorts of extra instrumentation, lush layers, and letting some of the songs get downright rocking. Where the first record had a definite nineties vibe, the Mazzy Star comparison is pretty much unavoidable, this new one also dips into the eighties, with tracks like "Dyed In The Wool" channeling the Motels or Scandal, through a more modern psychedelic garage pop filter, and the results are pretty divine.
Like the first record, repeated listens reveal more and more songs as being stone cold pop classics, and again, that new production, makes these songs more fuzzy and crunchy, giving them a dreamy dark power, but the band are just as adept sans studio magic, check out the stripped down "Thick As Thieves" a near acoustic brooder, that reminds us of Chelsea Wolfe's recent acoustic record, here multi tracked vocals are draped over downtuned guitar plucks and wheezing accordion, steel string strum and a shimmery prismatic drone, the whole thing a dreamy, druggy, psychedelic sea shanty, and maybe our favorite track here. But keep listening, and like all great records, more favorites reveal themselves. "Ballad Of The Golden Hour" is all shimmery fuzz pop bliss, while "Devil Knows" has a "Crimson & Clover" feel, all crunchy guitar and driving drums, but then a soaring swirly chorus reels it back into Widowspeak's more psych pop sound. "Sore Eyes" sounds like some classic rock should have been, Fleetwood Mac via Dum Dum Girls maybe, and the rest of the record unwinds in a similar fashion, equal parts classic dream pop and modern psychedelic garage rock, finishing off with another gorgeous brooding psych folk gem, the smoldering "Storm King", which like "Thick As Thieves", is currently vying for our top spot, on a record that's FULL of top spot contenders. SO great. Sweet packaging too, the cd comes in a standard jewel case housed in a die-cut slipcover, the lp in a deluxe full color gatefold jacket, and a download of course! We're listing the lp only for now though 'cause the cd is on backorder, boo hoo.
Yet another band from Brooklyn channeling the past, this female fronted trio though skips over the whole sixties girl group era and steers clear of the cheesy eighties MTV new wave vibe and lands squarely in the nineties, with a sound that's often a dead ringer for hazy dream poppers Mazzy Star, due in no small part to vocalist Molly Hamilton's warm sultry croon, as well as a lush, hazy washed out production. The instrumentation is pretty spare as well, the guitar a little bit twangy, a little bit strummy, the drums super simple, what sounds like just a kick, a snare and maybe a floor tom, laying down lazy shuffles, and minimal skitter, the songs swoonsome and sweetly melodic, a little bit wistful and minor key, the A side here "Gun Shy" wraps swaggery almost Morricone-ish guitars around those dreamy vox, and a crazy catchy hook, surprisingly propulsive and a little bit rocking, the guitar with a little bit more crunch/bite than you might expect, definitely a track that will have you playing it over and over.
And just to seal the deal nineties-wise, the B side is a cover of Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game", which musically is darn near a dead ringer for the original, but with Hamilton's vocals in the mix, it sounds like Mazzy Star covering Chris Isaak, which is actually pretty great.
Sometimes the true test of a record, is how many times you can listen to it in a row, and the first time we threw on the new EP from East Coast dream folk duo Widowspeak, we ended up laying it nonstop for at least an hour. Every time it ended, all we wanted to do was start it over again. Like the Almanac full length before it, The Swamps, is dark and lush and luxurious, the opener, dirgey and swampy, stripped down and wreathed in weird FX and field recordings, but after that, it's back to that fuzzy, dreamy, drifty sound that has us so in love with Almanac. The vocals breath and ethereal, floating above acoustic guitars, minimal percussion, and soft swirls of gauze-y ambience. Hooks galore too, and impossibly lovely vocal harmonies. The slower tracks are definitely reminiscent of Mazzy Star, check out "Calico", all wasted and woozy, and darkly dreamy, a strummy, sun dappled dream-folk dirge. The rest of the ep splits the difference between jangly pop, and more laid back dirge-folk, culminating in the closing title track, which is a haunting backwoods ballad, lush and layered, the music a softly swirling, elegantly strummed backdrop for those angelic vocals. Dreamy. And we're gonna listen to the whole thing, again, right, NOW...
While we have been digging lots of weird and lo-fi pop that's come out in the last few years, there's been a shortage of the kind of dreamy and focused pure pop records that make us wanna swoon for days on end. Luckily that has changed with the debut full length from New York's Widowspeak. We were already pretty much sold when we first heard their 7" earlier in the summer, which featured one track from this record and a Chris Isaak cover(!), but we had no idea that this was going to be a band who would be responsible for maybe one of the best pop albums of the year, this their self-titled debut. From the opening moments of the records lead off track, "Puritan" to the album's closer, "Ghost Boy", it's a record we'll be listening to repeatedly for a long time to come.
Widowspeak take elements of Cat Power, Beach House, and Mazzy Star, but somehow put them together in a way that countless other bands, all of whom take those same points of inspiration, never seem able to reach. Waves of warmth, and an economical approach to songwriting come together to create songs that make us just want to sway and linger as we stare into the eyes of someone we love, sounds that conjur up the memory of the one that we wish was still by our side.
We also love how as bittersweet and love soaked the songs can be, there are still these awesome and surprising moments that totally rock out and show sound both urgent and passionate, again in a way that many others treading similar terrain are never able to quite capture either.
This is that rare record rife with musical moments that both give us goosebumps as well as inspiring much shimmying and shaking. We might just have ourselves a new favorite band!
Right now I can almost hear the groans of the 60% of AQL readers that will think we are absolutely nuts in our enthusiasm for this recording. "First they try to convince me to buy a cd of some damn elephants banging on trash can lids and blowing on harmonicas
John Wiese (half of Bastard Noise) has collected a number of super limited seven inches and unreleased radio broadcasts on this CD of experimental noise tracks. Four of the tracks have been programmed for 'easy listening' - which sound like incredibly tense versions of Crawl Unit or John Duncan. While neither Crawl Unit or John Duncan make for particularly easy listening, in comparison to the ungodly noise assaults on the other four tracks, these tracks certainly make for a far a less stressful listening experience. Extreme to say the least.
Live recording of the man who is one half of Bastard Noise. Seventeen minutes of downpitched low frequency rumblings akin to CCCC or mid-period Solmania. Less dynamic and abusive as most of his output, here he searches for more droning, meditative spaces amidst the cacophony.
- MPEG stream: 1
- MPEG stream: 5
- MPEG stream: 37
Still another lost warehouse stash discovered, found a handful of the third volume in the ongoing Magical Crystal Blah recycled music series by noise freak John Wiese (Bastard Noise, occasionally SUNNO)))), wherein Wiese remixes the REmixes from volume 2, done by KK Null, Panicsville, Zbignew Karkowski, Gerritt, Joe Colley, Damien Romero, Mike Shiflet and others, -those- remixes being versions of original music from Magical Crystal Blah volume ONE. Phew, this is the third time around for these sounds, and as far as we can tell, they do actually keep getting better, all crushed and compacted this time around into 37 tracks in just 17 minutes.
We're not huge fans of noise, and our love for Bastard Noise really blossomed when they began to infuse their Merzbowian din with more texture and melody and dynamics, and now, BN are a force to be reckoned with, and the sounds here demonstrate just why. We're way too far removed to have any idea what the originals sounded like, or the remixes, and frankly who cares, these miniature bursts of noise play out like a proper record, some moments are indeed caustic and brutal, but those moments are seamlessly woven into the whole aligned with long stretches of stereo panned shimmer, of mysterious industrial whir, of crunchy rhythmic lumber, of bleeps and bloops and rumbles and grinds, many of these songs are less than 10 seconds, so it really does seem to be conceived as a whole, and as a whole, it's pretty fantastic. Definitely recommended for folks into creative and far out noisemusic, but it's also the sort of noise that just might appeal to the normally noise averse. Just sayin'...
Only have 5 or 6 copies of this, and pretty sure once these are gone, they are GONE.
- MPEG stream: 1
- MPEG stream: 5
- MPEG stream: 37
Another warped gem from the Tri Angle label, this one, a dark, brooding, moody bit of skittery slo-mo soul, in the tradition of other Tri Angle artists like Vessel, oOoOO, Holy Other, Balam Acab, How To Dress Well, etc. The weird bit being that this is no mysterious electronic producer, or bedroom misanthrope (well, okay, he could be that), but it's actually the side project of James Kelly, who readers of the aQ list might know better from his day job, playing in post black metal outfit Altar Of Plagues. And it's not like there was lots of stuff like this lurking below the surface in AoP. Or maybe it was, just WAY beneath the surface.
There's literally nothing metal about Kelly's Wife project, so metalheads steer clear. And really, we might expect a metalhead making a weirdo avant electronic soul record to come up with something seriously damaged and demented, but really, amidst the other above mentioned Tri Angle artists, Wife tends a bit more toward the mainstream. Sure the sounds are strange, the arrangements too, and apparently these songs are crafted from found sounds, filed recordings and homemade instruments, but the final project is surprisingly polished, very poppy, still murky and mysterious, but one of the few records on Tri Angle that has breakthrough potential. Fans of more mainstream fare like Portishead and Massive Attack and even to a degree Radiohead, will definitely dig a lot of what's going on here.
And we're not trying to downplay the weirdness. It's still plenty weird, it's just that the weirdness is deftly woven into songs and sounds that are much more accessible. We also hear a little Majical Cloudz (on tracks like "What's Between"), dark, crony electronic torch songs, with lushly layered vocals, dreamy gothic ballads, haunting and darkly lovely, the sound is utterly mesmerizing, and really quite gorgeous, and again, we'd never guess this was the work of a metalhead, but we're digging it a lot. And obviously, fans of other Tri Angle stuff will definitely dig, but for folks who have been thinking abut dabbling in weirder electronic music, this might be the perfect gateway record.
These SF noiseniks kick up a serious skree, originally intended to be improvised soundtracks, for friends' films, these jams need no visual component to drag your brain from your head, via destroyed eardrums, and hurl it into the heart of the sun, jamming out while it sizzles and eventually melts into a puddle of grey goo.
Super abstract psychedelic space jams, removed from any of that pesky rocking, and instead allowed to just hover and swirl, and crash and howl, moan and creak, crumble and oooooooze. The guitars are tangled and atonal, the melodies angular and jagged, the drums don't so much propel as offer up spatters of rhythmic interference, swirling clouds of cymbal shimmer, flurries of rapid fire snare, all beneath a continuous avalanche of free-psych-noise. The vocals moan and mumble, organs spew in-the-red wheeze, lots of feedback everywhere, the sound sinister and alien, psych rock with all the rock removed, twisted and tripped out and definitely for those with a taste for sonic whatthefuck and difficult psychedelia.
Packaged in a bright pink fold over Xeroxed sleeve. And probably pretty dang limited (especially considering this was a bit of a warehouse find)...
We always considered German black metallers Wigrid to be the true heirs to the throne of blackened buzz vacated by Burzum as he descended into neo-Naziism and fruity Peter And The Wolf keyboard music. The first Wigrid record was a frosty blast of Burzumic fury, a plodding midtempo swirl of fuzzed out riffs and primitive minor key droning depressing darkness. One of the all time BM essentials for sure. A lot has changed since then, and we're not sure what could have caused such a dramatic shift (is the band photo a clue? Sole member Ulfhednir, now sports short hair, a neck beard, t-shirt, tattoos, jeans and a chain wallet), although no matter how bummed out some of the more true grim BM warriors have been with Die Asche Eines Levens, we are loving this, as we imagine you will too. Sure it's still grim and buzzy, heavy and drone-y, but the sound is so much more post rock than blck metal it's a bit shocking. Think Mogwai, Slint, Godspeed, Kinski, My Bloody Valentine, Bardo Pond, Aereogramme, that epic repetitive slow building majestic sort of post rock, then add a bit of black buzz, some howling anguished vocals and you'll get a rough idea of what this new Wigrid sounds like. Gorgeously melancholy riffing, haunting arpeggiated guitar melodies, over that instantly recognizable Wigrid struggling, midtempo drum machine drumming, all wrapped up in a propulsive, emotionally charged cinematic epic slow burning post rock crescendo, stretched out over each of the five lengthy ten minute tracks. So gorgeous. We've been digging all those sludge metal / post rock hybrids lately (Conifer, Tides, Mouth Of The Architect, Pelican, Isis, Baroness, etc.) so maybe this is the next logical step, that most recent Deathspell Omega was pretty post rock too. Call it black post metal, or post black metal, or blackened post rock. Whatever you call it, it's fucking awesome! And even though this new Wigrid is maybe more Mogwai than Burzum, it finishes off with a not so subtle Burzum homage, a thirteen minute ambient synthesizer swirl (a la Filosofem?), delicate and crystalline, simple notes chiming and tinkling, a sweetly mournful haunting lullaby.
While they last we have the super limited digipak version, once we run out of those you'll get the regular jewel case version (which might be a buck or two cheaper!).
Wigrid is a one-(Ger)man band that plays raw black metal definitely influenced by the notorious Burzum. Indeed, as you become enveloped in the depressive, distorted, plodding fuzz-forest of Wigrid's imagination, you'll be convinced that such unending grimness hasn't been inflicted upon the world since before the incarceration of Varg Vikernes, aka Burzum. Wigrid's massive, murky wall of fuzz, with desperate, screamed vocals lost behind it, marches slowly ever onward, with primitive, minor-key melodies subliminally effecting your soul. The sparse, pulsing drum machine hits are similarily buried in the repetitive guitar riff-stortion. Nothing fancy, or that original (the cover drawing even looks suspiciously like it was borrowed from Burzum's "Hvis Lyset Tar Oss"), but wholly satisfying if this is a mood that interests you. Submitting to Wigrid's monotonous yet majestic misery and cold, cold anguish is a release. It's trancey and hypnotic and ambiently ear-grinding. For fans of "Hvis..." / "Filosofem" era Burzum (duh), Weakling, and other troglodytic, minimal dirge metal.
Another�disc that had us sold before we even got to the music. The band name alone, Wijlen Wij? We're a sucker for whatthefuck band names... And the fact that this Belgian horde are made up of a veritable who's who of doooom loooominaries, folks from bands like AQ faves Fall Of The Grey Winged One, Pantheist, Until Death Overtakes Me, In Somnis and a bunch more. Throw in a totally black cover except for the name of the band, and that it was released on Aesthetic Death, home to mighty UK doomlords Esoteric...
So yeah, we were expecting some serious doom, the lots-of-o's kind of doom, as in dooooooooooooooooom, but maybe with twice that many o's, or heck three times as many o's, but what we got, while still doomy as fuck and seriously crushingly heavy was a whole lot weirder.�
The record opens with some delicate Renn Faire sort of flutter, organ and chanted vocals, very medieval sounding, a bit Viking even, then a super King Arthur sort of melody joins the fray, and we were beginning to think maybe we had the wrong idea about these guys, until the guitars kick in, easily some of the thickest most distorted, downtuned filthy ugly guitar sounds EVER. And the coolest part is that the medieval intro, wasn't just an intro, the song continues on with that sort of seasick Viking waltz, but now dripping with oozing blackdoom riffage, a bizarre epic medieval funeral doooooooooooom. The next track ditches the Renn flair, and instead offers up a gorgeous crushing slow crawl, but with moaning melancholy cello drifting amidst the pounding sludge like black smoke. This is serious doom, it's got the classic sorrowful vibe of bands like My Dying Bride, but it's delivered though the cracked filth crusted sludge of bands like Esoteric or Bunkur. And then out of the blue (or black perhaps is more appropriate) comes some haunting little Trollmann like synth melody, or even what sounds like some Morricone Western style harmonica, that drifts along hauntingly before slipping back under, and the band returns to some impossibly slow trudge, through a barren black landscape. One of those rare records than manages to be so impossibly and crushingly heavy at the same time that it's utterly haunting and beautiful.�
Absolutely our new favorite doom record. Hands down. Worthy of more o's that we have any right to be dealing out. Essential for fans of Bunkur, Planet Aids, Winter, diSEMBOWELMENT, Esoteric, Catacombs, Wereju, and all other wielders of black hole heaviness...
You know we love the fucked up black metal here at aQ. This is sooooo up our alley in that regard. DIY, lo-fi, totally outsider WTF? stuff. Makes Striborg and Abruptum and Ildjarn and the rest sound like the Tonight Show band. Twisted, raw, black primitivism, only for the true klvt worshippers of blacknoize ritualism and caveman blackbuzz.
We first encountered Wikkid - and seriously, "encounter" is the word, we know we talk about outsider this and that, but this guy is legitimately strange, we know we've met him, and really when he comes in the store, we get a little bit starstruck, you might say, more so than we would for a "real" black metal celebrity. Heck, he invented his own religion called The Black Ism (?!?), more on that later on. As we were saying, we first encountered Wikkid when he brought us a release called The Intro, and we wrote up a big review of it, but he never ending up bringing us more, so we couldn't list it even though we really wanted to - though we did get to eventually list a disc by Wikkid's ambient alter-ego Alturaz, and a Wikkid/Alturaz split too.
But now The Intro has at last been repressed (though mysteriously minus two tracks), in the form of a double cd, paired with another, new Wikkid recording entitled Chapter 1. And, on top of that, there are now also TWO MORE double cds of other Wikkid material. We suggest you get them all. You have to get them all. Particularly since they're so cheap (and by the way, we might have accidentally sold some at a higher price, if you're one of those people, please get in touch).
So, here's the review we originally wrote for The Intro disc: We were sold on this one before we heard a single note. Based entirely on the cover art. Which is essentially a crude cut and paste, black and white Xerox, of the band name, which is Wikkid by the way, on there twice, along with the title, The Intro, also in two different places, a white smudge and some sort of cut out grid, and most telling of all, a ready made description of Wikkid: 1 Man Black Metal Band, Bay Area California. At first we weren't sure if that was maybe part of the title or what. We're still not sure. But we were psyched. We had been missing home brewed DIY black metal, and this is most definitely that, primo outsider one man BM, raw and primitive, super lo-fi, abstract and trippy and seriously goddamn grim and kvlt. The guitars are sharp and angular, brittle and buzzy, the vocals a monstrous bellow, black shadowy exhalations, the drums stumbling sort-of-blast beats, the music a dense, noisy, chaotic black tangle, lurching and lumbering, collapsing into dense swirls of nearly free blackness, before the second track lurches in, a creeping slo-mo black doom, the drums WAY up in the mix, the vocals too, the guitars a brittle insectoid buzz that's barely audible, minus the occasional shredding squall. And so it goes, the next track ramps it back up to buzzing blast, again, lumbering and on the verge of collapse, the vokills here a garbled, grunted speaking in tongues, the guitars murky and blurry black smears, the tempo fluctuating constantly, the sound woozy and washed out, pure underground blackness, that's so underground, it's seemingly from a DIFFERENT underground than the rest of the stuff we hear.
So, we wrote all that about what's now the first disc of the The Intro/Chapter 1 2cd release. We won't delve so fully into the other Wikkids, except to say, they're equally insane and amazing. More stumbling drums, more distorted vox, more disturbing thoughts, more murky guitar drone. If you get one Wikkid, you need 'em all, they're definitely a set, all of 'em basically having that same crude cover design, slightly altered from The Intro's template in ways that almost don't even make sense. Again, sheer WTF? genius. And super duper confusing. Then, one realizes that each disc in each double cd set is really short. Really, really short. Like, five or six minutes! (And the last track on one of 'em even ends with almost a minute of silence!) All six discs probably could have fit on a single cd. (But, they ARE cheap.) And again, in part, that's kind of what's so brilliant, there's just so much WTF? to Wikkid, it's astonishing. Wikkid is almost the black metal Fastest, if you know what we mean.
Oh, to give you a little bit more of an idea about what Wikkid is all about, on his website, there's a page of "definitions", here are two particularly helpful ones:
THE BLACK ISM - A new religion of black/dark musics & money for laws & guidance. Realism, Naturalism, Shamanism, Selfism & Wikkism as core beliefs.
WIKKIDISM - Playing a wicked black metal track on repeat at highest volume until you reach "ISM".
Aha, maybe that's why these discs are so short - you're supposed to play each track on repeat, anyway!!
You know we love the fucked up black metal here at aQ. This is sooooo up our alley in that regard. DIY, lo-fi, totally outsider WTF? stuff. Makes Striborg and Abruptum and Ildjarn and the rest sound like the Tonight Show band. Twisted, raw, black primitivism, only for the true klvt worshippers of blacknoize ritualism and caveman blackbuzz.
We first encountered Wikkid - and seriously, "encounter" is the word, we know we talk about outsider this and that, but this guy is legitimately strange, we know we've met him, and really when he comes in the store, we get a little bit starstruck, you might say, more so than we would for a "real" black metal celebrity. Heck, he invented his own religion called The Black Ism (?!?), more on that later on. As we were saying, we first encountered Wikkid when he brought us a release called The Intro, and we wrote up a big review of it, but he never ending up bringing us more, so we couldn't list it even though we really wanted to - though we did get to eventually list a disc by Wikkid's ambient alter-ego Alturaz, and a Wikkid/Alturaz split too.
But now The Intro has at last been repressed (though mysteriously minus two tracks), in the form of a double cd, paired with another, new Wikkid recording entitled Chapter 1. And, on top of that, there are now also TWO MORE double cds of other Wikkid material. We suggest you get them all. You have to get them all. Particularly since they're so cheap (and by the way, we might have accidentally sold some at a higher price, if you're one of those people, please get in touch).
So, here's the review we originally wrote for The Intro disc: We were sold on this one before we heard a single note. Based entirely on the cover art. Which is essentially a crude cut and paste, black and white Xerox, of the band name, which is Wikkid by the way, on there twice, along with the title, The Intro, also in two different places, a white smudge and some sort of cut out grid, and most telling of all, a ready made description of Wikkid: 1 Man Black Metal Band, Bay Area California. At first we weren't sure if that was maybe part of the title or what. We're still not sure. But we were psyched. We had been missing home brewed DIY black metal, and this is most definitely that, primo outsider one man BM, raw and primitive, super lo-fi, abstract and trippy and seriously goddamn grim and kvlt. The guitars are sharp and angular, brittle and buzzy, the vocals a monstrous bellow, black shadowy exhalations, the drums stumbling sort-of-blast beats, the music a dense, noisy, chaotic black tangle, lurching and lumbering, collapsing into dense swirls of nearly free blackness, before the second track lurches in, a creeping slo-mo black doom, the drums WAY up in the mix, the vocals too, the guitars a brittle insectoid buzz that's barely audible, minus the occasional shredding squall. And so it goes, the next track ramps it back up to buzzing blast, again, lumbering and on the verge of collapse, the vokills here a garbled, grunted speaking in tongues, the guitars murky and blurry black smears, the tempo fluctuating constantly, the sound woozy and washed out, pure underground blackness, that's so underground, it's seemingly from a DIFFERENT underground than the rest of the stuff we hear.
So, we wrote all that about what's now the first disc of the The Intro/Chapter 1 2cd release. We won't delve so fully into the other Wikkids, except to say, they're equally insane and amazing. More stumbling drums, more distorted vox, more disturbing thoughts, more murky guitar drone. If you get one Wikkid, you need 'em all, they're definitely a set, all of 'em basically having that same crude cover design, slightly altered from The Intro's template in ways that almost don't even make sense. Again, sheer WTF? genius. And super duper confusing. Then, one realizes that each disc in each double cd set is really short. Really, really short. Like, five or six minutes! (And the last track on one of 'em even ends with almost a minute of silence!) All six discs probably could have fit on a single cd. (But, they ARE cheap.) And again, in part, that's kind of what's so brilliant, there's just so much WTF? to Wikkid, it's astonishing. Wikkid is almost the black metal Fastest, if you know what we mean.
Oh, to give you a little bit more of an idea about what Wikkid is all about, on his website, there's a page of "definitions", here are two particularly helpful ones:
THE BLACK ISM - A new religion of black/dark musics & money for laws & guidance. Realism, Naturalism, Shamanism, Selfism & Wikkism as core beliefs.
WIKKIDISM - Playing a wicked black metal track on repeat at highest volume until you reach "ISM".
Aha, maybe that's why these discs are so short - you're supposed to play each track on repeat, anyway!!
You know we love the fucked up black metal here at aQ. This is sooooo up our alley in that regard. DIY, lo-fi, totally outsider WTF? stuff. Makes Striborg and Abruptum and Ildjarn and the rest sound like the Tonight Show band. Twisted, raw, black primitivism, only for the true klvt worshippers of blacknoize ritualism and caveman blackbuzz.
We first encountered Wikkid - and seriously, "encounter" is the word, we know we talk about outsider this and that, but this guy is legitimately strange, we know we've met him, and really when he comes in the store, we get a little bit starstruck, you might say, more so than we would for a "real" black metal celebrity. Heck, he invented his own religion called The Black Ism (?!?), more on that later on. As we were saying, we first encountered Wikkid when he brought us a release called The Intro, and we wrote up a big review of it, but he never ending up bringing us more, so we couldn't list it even though we really wanted to - though we did get to eventually list a disc by Wikkid's ambient alter-ego Alturaz, and a Wikkid/Alturaz split too.
But now The Intro has at last been repressed (though mysteriously minus two tracks), in the form of a double cd, paired with another, new Wikkid recording entitled Chapter 1. And, on top of that, there are now also TWO MORE double cds of other Wikkid material. We suggest you get them all. You have to get them all. Particularly since they're so cheap (and by the way, we might have accidentally sold some at a higher price, if you're one of those people, please get in touch).
So, here's the review we originally wrote for The Intro disc: We were sold on this one before we heard a single note. Based entirely on the cover art. Which is essentially a crude cut and paste, black and white Xerox, of the band name, which is Wikkid by the way, on there twice, along with the title, The Intro, also in two different places, a white smudge and some sort of cut out grid, and most telling of all, a ready made description of Wikkid: 1 Man Black Metal Band, Bay Area California. At first we weren't sure if that was maybe part of the title or what. We're still not sure. But we were psyched. We had been missing home brewed DIY black metal, and this is most definitely that, primo outsider one man BM, raw and primitive, super lo-fi, abstract and trippy and seriously goddamn grim and kvlt. The guitars are sharp and angular, brittle and buzzy, the vocals a monstrous bellow, black shadowy exhalations, the drums stumbling sort-of-blast beats, the music a dense, noisy, chaotic black tangle, lurching and lumbering, collapsing into dense swirls of nearly free blackness, before the second track lurches in, a creeping slo-mo black doom, the drums WAY up in the mix, the vocals too, the guitars a brittle insectoid buzz that's barely audible, minus the occasional shredding squall. And so it goes, the next track ramps it back up to buzzing blast, again, lumbering and on the verge of collapse, the vokills here a garbled, grunted speaking in tongues, the guitars murky and blurry black smears, the tempo fluctuating constantly, the sound woozy and washed out, pure underground blackness, that's so underground, it's seemingly from a DIFFERENT underground than the rest of the stuff we hear.
So, we wrote all that about what's now the first disc of the The Intro/Chapter 1 2cd release. We won't delve so fully into the other Wikkids, except to say, they're equally insane and amazing. More stumbling drums, more distorted vox, more disturbing thoughts, more murky guitar drone. If you get one Wikkid, you need 'em all, they're definitely a set, all of 'em basically having that same crude cover design, slightly altered from The Intro's template in ways that almost don't even make sense. Again, sheer WTF? genius. And super duper confusing. Then, one realizes that each disc in each double cd set is really short. Really, really short. Like, five or six minutes! (And the last track on one of 'em even ends with almost a minute of silence!) All six discs probably could have fit on a single cd. (But, they ARE cheap.) And again, in part, that's kind of what's so brilliant, there's just so much WTF? to Wikkid, it's astonishing. Wikkid is almost the black metal Fastest, if you know what we mean.
Oh, to give you a little bit more of an idea about what Wikkid is all about, on his website, there's a page of "definitions", here are two particularly helpful ones:
THE BLACK ISM - A new religion of black/dark musics & money for laws & guidance. Realism, Naturalism, Shamanism, Selfism & Wikkism as core beliefs.
WIKKIDISM - Playing a wicked black metal track on repeat at highest volume until you reach "ISM".
Aha, maybe that's why these discs are so short - you're supposed to play each track on repeat, anyway!!
At first we were really underwhelmed by the new Wilco. We loved the first few Wilco records, they were chock full of catchy hooky songs that would stick in your head like crazy. As the band got more adventurous and experimental, culminating in Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, the hooks took a back seat to the overall sound and the process, which was okay because the sound was so overwhelmingly alien and beautiful. So on first listen, we're struck with the same lack of obvious hooks, but also a decided absence of experimentalism. But like we said, that was on first listen. Closer inspection shows that the weird sounds and wild experimentation are still present, just sort of focused and contained within certain tracks. This record is surprisingly quiet and introspective, lots of just vocals and piano. But almost as surprising is Wilco's tendency to rock out towards the end of songs. Like Crazy Horse before them, Wilco let melancholy country ditties, build and eventually explode into a full on rock jam with wild chaotic drumming, peals of feedback and screaming guitar leads. Very exhilarating and a good balance to the minimalism of the rest of the record. The two standout tracks for those waiting for the 'weird parts' are track three, "Spiders (Kidsmoke)" which is based around a strangely proggy krautrock song structure. A definite head nodding NEU! rhythm with lots of scrabbling guitar and weird skronky atonal bleats. And there's the fifteen minute long track eleven "Less Than You Think", which is mostly a noisy, fuzzy ambient drone, equal parts feedback and what sounds like shortwave radio, building and building to an almost Merzbowian frenzy. Pretty cool. But as always, it's Tweedy's songs, that manage to shine through, no matter what sort of sonic detritus is piled atop them.
New double album from Jeff Tweedy of the late, great Uncle Tupelo, is better than their debut, we think. The first song, "Misunderstood", is anthemic in a pretty satisfactory stick-to-the-roof-of-yr-mouth kind of way and even quotes some lyrics from the late great Peter Laughner (of Pere Ubu fame) (whose record Take the Guitar Player for a Ride we carry, by the way). HOWEVER (please allow me to digress) this album is supposed to exist on LP but can we find it anywhere? NO! I swear, if major labels are gonna go to the trouble of throwing us crumbs by actually manufacturing vinyl, then they should really pull a few more of those strings they're holding, to make sure the stores who care about vinyl can actually get hold of it.
I think the best part about this movie is the serendipity involved. It was meant to be just your typical "making of our record" documentary. But during the filming, band members were dismissed, the band was dropped, the label that dropped them ended up paying for the record AGAIN and re-signing them, and the record went on to unbelievable commercial and critical success. Which all contributes to making this film, as well as the extra goodies, emminently watchable. Windy thought it was trifle too contrivedly arty, filmed in black and white, very stylized, but I think it really suits the music, and the mood of much of the film. What should have been this exciting joyous occasion, making the best record of their careers, was marred by depressing setback after depressing setback. But as we all know, that makes for good watching!! The film itself is beautiful and slow paced. Lots to take in, but easy to be lulled by the music and the scenery. I enjoyed it quite a bit. Helps that I do love the record as well. The extras are what make this essential. A documentary on the making of the film, the theatrical trailer, a bunch of funny outtakes, some really ridiculous stage banter ("Your Mom is cock!"), some annoying outtakes of Jim O'Rourke hamming it up, meeting with fans and a bunch of other stuff. But it's all the extra music that makes this a must have. 17 additional Wilco songs, some unreleased, some different versions of songs from the album, performed live, in the studio, even in Jeff Tweedy's home while the cameraman's phone keeps ringing. And if I rememeber correctly there's even one or two Uncle Tupelo songs! Also comes with a big booklet full of liner notes, photos and the film maker's diary. And a pretty good deal at 24.00 for 2 DVDs! For anyone who loved Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, or loves Wilco, or loved Uncle Tupelo or who just wants to see a cool movie about a great band making a great record.
Like many ol' rockers before them, Jeff Tweedy and co. have entered the 'double live album' arena with Kicking Television. It was recorded over four nights at the Vic Theatre in Chicago earlier this year, May 4th through 7th to be exact. Although they've done their share of adventuring and experimentation in the recording studio over the past few years, they prove here that they still kick plenty of ass as an easy-going live rock band. These recordings really captures the electricity of their live shows when the band and crowd are totally on and into it! An added treat is the formidable presence of Nels Cline on guitar -- always a pleasure. Included are many favorites such as "Shot In The Arm", "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart", as well as two of their Woody Guthrie covers "One By One" and "Airline To Heaven". The audience sure shows their appreciation throughout the shows, complete with singalongs! Definitely a fan pleaser!
Where the last two Wilco records found Jeff Tweedy exploring a wider sonic palette, especially with the addition of secret weapon, guitarist Nels Cline, Sky Blue Sky is for sure a retreat to the more straightforward side of his song writing skills. Sounding very warm and laid back with a strong '70s rock disposition, Sky Blue Sky sort of walks the fine line of the undeniable warmth and glow of The Byrds and Wings while sometimes slipping to the other side landing in Eagles territory. That's a tricky line to straddle and at moments we can't help but love the earnest delivery and heartfelt sound but there are those times where it does veer a little too much to the side of innocuous '70s rock for our tastes (Vice called it 'Dad Rock'). Not a bad record but for sure not our favorite Wilco by a longshot.
Where the last two Wilco records found Jeff Tweedy exploring a wider sonic pallete, especially with the addition of secret weapon, guitarist Nels CLine, Sky Blue Sky is for sure a retreat to the more straightforward side of his song writing skills. Sounding very warm and laid back with a strong 70's rock disposition, Sky Blue Sky sort of walks the fine line of the undeniable warmth and glow of The Byrds and Wings while sometimes slipping to the other side landing in Eagles territory. That's a tricky line to straddle and at moments we can't help but love the earnest delivery and heartfelt sound but there are those times where it does veer a little too much to the side of innocuous 70's rock for our tastes (Vice called it Dad Rock). Not a bad record but for sure not our favorite Wilco by a longshot. This deluxe edition includes a dvd with a documentary on the making of Sky Blue Sky.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
AND NOW HERE'S THE VINYL VERSION!!
Holy shit... Not only were we surprised (like everyone else) by the sudden appearance of a new Wilco Record, but also by just how goddamned great it is. We haven't been so taken by a Wilco record in ages, but Star Wars (is it really ok for them to call it that?) is like an awakening, finding Jeff Tweedy and the rest of the band at their most alive and exciting.
Beginning with a blast of noise, it's easy to imagine the more conservative, middle of the road, dad-rock fans of the band being a bit confused and/or annoyed, but it's glorious and leads us directly into a whole album filled with some of the most immediate and well crafted jams Wilco have yet recorded, probably their best collection of songs since A Ghost Is Born, and belongs right up there with that album, alongside Summerteeth and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot in the best-of Wilco pantheon! Not just catchy and rockin', it also has an experimental bent with weird-out guitar moves that might perhaps fill a bit of the void left by the dissolution of Sonic Youth, and it's that knack for noisiness, woven into Wilco's masterful songsmithery, that makes Star Wars sound so exciting and fresh.
It's pretty satisfying when when a band you once loved, but that you kind of lost interest in, conjures up something mysterious and magical that immediately relights that fire, and hooks you all over again. We're beyond hooked on Star Wars and have been blasting it over and over since we got it.
From the opening sounds of "Art Of Almost" it sounded as if we were about to experience another game-changing Wilco album, on par with the seminal Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Its krauty electronics and crunchy synths sounding more like something on a new Radiohead record then what Wilco's been doing over their last couple albums. Turns out that the whole album doesn't totally follow in that direction, in fact there isn't one direction at all to this set of songs as Tweedy and company mix it up making for a Wilco album that really feels like a broad reflection of the sounds and styles the band has explored over the years.
Note: besides the limited edition deluxe double cd, there's also a regular single cd version, at $14.98. What's so deluxe about this? It's packaged in a sturdy slipcase, with a 52 page booklet, and the extra disc it comes with contains 4 bonus tracks. The vinyl version, meanwhile, comes in a thick gatefold and includes a cd version of the album as well (but not the bonus disc).
From the opening sounds of "Art Of Almost" it sounded as if we were about to experience another game-changing Wilco album, on par with the seminal Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Its krauty electronics and crunchy synths sounding more like something on a new Radiohead record then what Wilco's been doing over their last couple albums. Turns out that the whole album doesn't totally follow in that direction, in fact there isn't one direction at all to this set of songs as Tweedy and company mix it up making for a Wilco album that really feels like a broad reflection of the sounds and styles the band has explored over the years.
Note: besides the limited edition deluxe double cd, there's also a regular single cd version, at $14.98. What's so deluxe about this? It's packaged in a sturdy slipcase, with a 52 page booklet, and the extra disc it comes with contains 4 bonus tracks. The vinyl version, meanwhile, comes in a thick gatefold and includes a cd version of the album as well (but not the bonus disc).
We have to be honest, Wilco's last outing Sky Blue Sky left us a little more then underwhelmed. And most of us had pretty much relegated Wilco to the unflattering status of 'DAD rock'. The songs just lacked that magic that Tweedy and company had built a career on. The disappointment of that record was no doubt due in part to the fact that it came hot on the heels of two of the most adventurous albums Wilco had made, A Ghost Is Born and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. So while there are no kraut-like moments or electronic dabbling on Wilco (The Album) it does find the band sounding more like classic Wilco, with full on irresistible pop moments that recall Summerteeth and that ready to be immortalized on classic rock radio feel of Being There. "You Never Know" should be a mega-hit single , if there's any justice. While we do still wish the band would explore more outer limits territory, truth is, at the heart of it all, Jeff Tweedy knows how to write timeless songs full of texture and a fleeting sense of memory and lingering emotion.
Gosh there's a lot to say about this record.
[1] THE MUSIC: The sonic trajectory Wilco seemed to be on with their last album, Summerteeth, led us to believe the new one would be even more perfect pop-like. But they've gone and thrown us a curve ball. That's right, this is Wilco's weird experimental record. OK, it isn't *that* weird; and if you're an AQ customer then you have far more experimental records in your collection, but it *is* unusual for Wilco. Like a mix between the doleful Giant Sand and the fanciful Latin Playboys (Los Lobos' weird experimental side project), this new Wilco record doesn't have half as many hooks as previous efforts. While it certainly has the tried and true strummed acoustic guitars, lyrical piano, sad fiddles, and alterna-country tone that the group is famous for, they make you wait and wait and wait for the hooks and the melodies, or else they bury 'em in a scattered, cathartic wash of melancholy. Jeff Tweedy, leader of the band and one half of the late great Uncle Tupelo, is a-wanderin' and a-thinkin' out loud and he's a-lettin' the songs write themselves, so they meander a bit, but it's ever so heartfelt. If you can handle the assorted odd sonic elements that pop up all over -- wooden bonks 'n clonks, piano plinks, toys, static and scrapings, feedback, stereo separation novelties, strange rumblings that threaten to overtake the music, etc -- then you'll like this record. (Rumor has it several members of Wilco *couldn't* handle the weirdness, and quit the band.) And even though the ubiquitous Jim O'Rourke mixed the album and you'd think he brought in all random noises, actually the band claims the record was way more weird *before* O'Rourke worked on it. Huh.
[2] THE EXTRAS: Comes with stuff you can play on your computer: a video for one of the songs, plus links to the trailer for the upcoming doc being made about 'em, plus special access to a hidden webpage that's only for folks who've bought the album.
[3] THE SAGA: Wilco's shortsighted major label Reprise decides that sales of 162,000 copies of Wilco's last album isn't enough, and they don't like the new album, so they want the band off the label. Wilco buys back the masters for less than it cost to record them, and sign with Nonesuch (who btw also signed Magnetic Fields). In a nice example of corporate stupidity, Nonesuch and Reprise are owned by the same corporation, so in effect AOL Time Warner paid for the album twice. Ha. Before they signed with Nonesuch, Wilco made this new album downloadable from their website, and thus it even showed up, without ever having been officially released, on a few rockcrits' top ten lists from 2001. Ironically enough, now that the album's saga has been latched onto by the NY Times and NPR, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot will sell more copies than all of Wilco's previous albums, and someone at Reprise will get fired.
[4] CONET PROJECT ALERT: Hey all you fellow Conet lovers! Didja notice the title of this record? Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Yankee... Hotel... Foxtrot... Yes folks, this record was named after a track on the infamous Conet Project, the 4cd set that collects mysterious shortwave numbers station broadcasts. (We're kind of proud to have sold more copies of this than any other store -- 387 and counting!) And yep, there's a Conet Project sample buried near the end of the record. It's uncredited, which is kind of lame -- I mean if Wilco are such ardent fans of the Conet Project, wouldn't they want to turn other people onto it? Nor did we find Conet credit given on Boards of Canada's Geodaddi, for that matter, but the makers of Vanilla Sky did!
Sometimes Belgium's Sub Rosa label comes up with really unusual, unpredictable releases. This one's a good example. Which by the way is NOT classical music, but IS pretty wild. It's full-on, loud, noisy, partly improvised rock music, but with an extra extreme, um, "outsider" element. Sort of in the "special" tradition of The Kids Of Widney High and the Children Of Ala Costa, but much much more rockin'! We didn't bother to read the notes yet to learn all the background details, but we do know that the basic deal here is that the band is comprised of four developmentally disabled (to use a PC term) and untrained musicians, Johan Geenens, Linh Pham, Kim Verbeke, and Rudy Callant, organized by a fifth member, the ensemble's drummer and "artistic mentor" Damien Magnette, who himself is not differently-abled and has more musical schooling. He helps direct the group's activity and keeps the resulting energetic freakouts somewhat reigned and structured in with his tight rhythmic propulsion. Meanwhile, the other four (plus a couple guests) do their thing, whatever it may be, with all kinds of instruments, obviously enjoying expressing themselves. Proving that while they may be "mentally challenged", they are in fact musically challengING. It's pretty far out and in a way, glorious. There's what can only be described as crazy wailing vocals, freer than free jazz horn blats, distorted electric guitar skree, off-kilter keyboards, sampling, and krauty tribal beats... Imagine the primitive psychedelic jams of Ya Ho Wha 13 mixed with the most abstract avant garde efforts of electro-acoustic improvisers Supersilent. Definitely something for fans of Reynols, too.
A lot of it is surprisingly heavy, almost metal-brutal, but without grim intent, instead done with a spirited feeling of joyful abandon. There's also a few mellower moments too, of flute twitter and eerie wordless vocal choruses (as on track 6, which reminds us of Pocahaunted). And briefly, they come close to Maher Shalal Hash Baz style damaged "pop" territory (though we don't think MSHB has ever done any rapping, which MIGHT be what's happening on track 8). Yep, this sure beats a lot of the "normal" underground psych noise rock weirdo bands we sell here at their own game.
In various reviews here at AQ, we have described lots of music (mainly black metal) as "retarded", in a good way. Always in a good way. It probably would be uncool to say precisely that about this... but if we did, it again would be meant as a compliment, a very positive thing meaning that these are unique, primal, creative sounds not bound by boring conventions of genre or technique, played for the sheer, universal love of music-making. Not self-conciously trying to be hip or anything in particular beyond what it simply IS.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
