Good ole' Jimbo Trout and his Fishpeople are doing a mighty fine job of keeping an old timey flame burning brightly here in the Bay Area, with their great mixture of bluegrass, bop, swing, backporch blues and more, all with a twang that's hard not to tap your toes and sway your hips to. This is the band you wish was playing at the farmers market or in your local town square, such good vibes and a wide array of instrumentation (guitar, banjo, fiddle, washboard, harmonica, clarinet, sax, piano, accordion, xylophone and pedal steel guitar.) While all of the players sound top notch, we have to say the fiddle playing on this record is pretty unbelievable! The album is packed with both traditional tunes nicely arranged by Jimbo as well as covers of folks like the Mississippi Mudsteppers, Jimmie Rogers, The Shelton Brothers, etc. Can't think of a better soundtrack to your next hoedown!
We've long had a soft spot for the darkest of country folk twang -- Mark Kozelek, Tindersticks, Jesse Sykes, and Hotel Alexis to name just a handful. The last couple months have brought us a few more residing a little closer to home. Case in point, The John Francis' smoky blues filled On The Moment We Share. Deep deep male vocals and slow creeping tempo keep the mood bleak and somber. This album fits well right alongside the latest from fellow SF band The Black Swans. Music that never leaves the shadows? We're right there with 'em. Thanks for sharing!
We got another amazing batch of vintage blues reissues from the wonderful Monk label. Look elsewhere on the list for reviews of two more volumes of Charley Patton recordings and a double lp set by Blind Willie McTell!
If I Had My Way, I'd Tear The Building Down is a compilation of recordings Blind Willie Johnson made for Columbia records between 1927 to 1930. Having recorded 30 songs in total, this compilation gathers nearly half of his entire recorded output. Hailing from Texas, and blinded at a young age by his stepmother (who accidentally threw lye water in his face that was meant for his father while they were fighting) Johnson became known as one of the most talented bottleneck guitar players around (though his slide was actually a pocketknife!), having honed his style on various homemade guitars he built as a kid. His blues style was heavily gospel-influenced, singing with a gruff bass voice so he could be heard above the noise of the street, as he used his music as a preaching tool. He was later joined by his wife, who added 19th century hymns to their repertoire and joined him on some of the later recordings as the high end response to his low-end calls. While she is featured on four of the tracks here, most of them are just Johnson and his beautiful slide guitar!
In his entire musical career Blind Willie Johnson recorded almost exclusively spiritual songs, and did so in one the most unforgettable, hair-raisingly beautiful, gravel filled voice -- a voice that could make Tom Waits and Howlin' Wolf blush. If that's not enough, Blind Willie Johnson also played a truly inspired slide guitar.
American Primitive guitarist Chuck Johnson now calls Oakland, California his home, but he originally hails from North Carolina where we first heard him back in the nineties playing with bands Spatula and Idyll Swords. That North Carolina lineage rings through on Johnson's Three Lobed debut of modern Appalachia, Crows In The Basilica. Resurrecting the ghosts of Roscoe Holcomb, Mike Seeger, Elizabeth Cotten and Robbie Basho, Johnson brilliantly conjures a mystical resonance of haunting loveliness, both texturally rich and achingly majestic. Layers of past traditions weave throughout, British folk balladry, 19th century parlor music melodies, Eastern modalities and Delta blues, marked by a lonely cascading melancholia that transforms these pieces to moving modern day ruminations on the slow passage of time and the fluidity of memory. One of the best modern guitar soli records we've heard in awhile, one that sets the eyes gazing into the vast ether of the mind.
Download card included with the lp. Limited to 768 hand-numbered copies.
Also available as a tour-only cd-r with an extra track.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Finally back in print, everyone's favorite redneck/the south will rise again/bad taste/crime spree/joy ride through the dusty back roads of Texas with Mr. Jon Wayne riding shotgun and spouting an endless stream of obsceneties, epithets, and words of wisdom. All to the strains of out of tune, stumbling, drunken, fucked up barroom country. Depressing and absolutely hilarious. Offensive and totally essential. Brilliant and completely dumb.
Man, what a great set of releases the Numero Group is building. Each one not only details a particular artist/label in song, but through well-considered packaging and extensive liner notes we get a great sense of what went on behind the music. Amazing! Well, this time round, we have Fern Jones. A gifted gospel singer, who's voice carries similar croon power and soul-fire intensity as Patsy Cline or a young Elvis.
Fern's career was bittersweet, however. Early on, Fern and husband played/sang their hearts out through Evangelical tent tours all over the South, selling a vanity recording (The Joneses Sing) out of the back of their sedan. Dot Records soon released Singing A Happy Song in 1959, for which Fern had acquired a stunning backing band: Hank "Sugarfoot" Garland on guitar (Roy Orbison, Marty Robbins, Conway Twitty, Hank Williams Sr., Everly Brothers), Floyd Cramer on piano (Booby Bare, Patsy Cline, Wings, Johny Cash, Chet Atkins), Joe Zinkan on bass (Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, Merle Haggard, Loretta Lynn), and Buddy Harman on drums (Reba McEntire, Hank Snow, Willie Nelson) -- all of whom were fresh off a 1958 session with Elvis.
Despite several tours (without a single to promote), Fern's "rockabilly gospel style" songs never caught on with a conservative buying public. Fern soon stopped performing all together and found it impossible to gain back the rights to her songs after the label's lease was up. After constant threat that the master tapes might be destroyed (as were all others from that era of Dot) and a fifteen-year letter-writing campaign, Dot Records' second owners, MCA, finally awarded her the rights to these songs once again. And thankfully so. They're amazingly powerful devotionals. If you're a fan of Patsy Cline, and who isn't, you'll love love love these Fern Jones songs!
For ages now, we've wondered what it's gonna take for Cul De Sac guitarist Glenn Jones to finally be embraced by the masses the same way many of his American primitive, modern Appalachian, Takoma guitar school influenced brethren have been, like James Blackshaw, Ilyas Ahmed, Jack Rose, Richard Bishop, and even Bill Orcutt. All beholden to Fahey and Kottke and Bull in different measures, and all seemingly WAY more popular than Jones. But every time we listen to one of Jones' solo records, we're blown away, totally transported, his playing fluid and lyrical, a master of alternate tunings, and all manner of string instruments, his music is lush and gorgeous, the sound rife with lush tangles of steel string buzz, spare skeletal melodies, weaving darkly delicate, dreamily textured guitarscapes that really have no equal as far as we're concerned. The first track here is a perfect example, "A Snapshot Of Mom, Scotland 1957" is a sun dappled bit of dreamy acoustic shimmer, lush and languid, hushed and emotive, it Jones' own reimaging of the Takoma sound, recasting it as some sort of summery ballad, and it's breathtaking. Much of the record dips into more traditionally Appalachian sounds, but Jones definitely has his own way, a unique style, that definitely shines through and when he straps on the banjo, wow, a gorgeous instrument as it is, but Jones makes it sing, and weaves intricate buzzing melodies into something tranquil, haunting and just a little bit dark.
And while all the songs here are pretty fantastic, the big surprise is the 17+ minute closer, "The Orca Grande Cement Factory at Victorville", which finds Jones teaming up with drummer Chris Corsano for a sprawling bit of avant folk, Jones' guitar the centerpiece, but Corsano matching the rhythm of Jones' fingerpicking with bursts of snare skitter, clouds of cymbal shimmer, locking into hypnotic motorik rhythms and then slipping into much more freeform percussive drifts, the drums definitely staying well in the background, until the final three minutes when Corsano lets loose with a wild maelstron of frenzied drum chaos, only to quickly slip right back into the shuffling snare accompaniment, and then quickly stumble to a halt, where we hear the voices of Jones and Corsano, and get a quick glimpse behind the recorded curtain.
So fantastic, and thus obviously totally recommended. Here's hoping this new record, Jones' first for Thrill Jockey, does in fact get more people to check him out. And if you're a fan of any or all of the above mentioned guitarists (Blackshaw, Rose, Bishop) and have somehow not heard Glenn Jones, do yourself a favor...
So what's up with all this old timey guitar solo stuff? I mean, it's like everybody and their uncle's brother all of a sudden wants to pick up the 6 & 12 string guitars and make like they're John Fahey. Well in the case of this Mr. Glenn Jones, he's got some definite background qualifications for getting all John Fahey on us -- he's the guitarist from Cul de Sac, who did a fine record in collaboration with the late John Fahey some years back, and his interest in Fahey, Robbie Basho, Americana and roots music is deep. So we think it's ok (not that anyone asked us), and indeed a resultant great listen, that Jones' first ever solo album is devoted to avant-folk guitar solos in a Faheyesque mode. Besides his playing, Jones makes the Fahey connection/inspiration explict, with a track entitled "Fahey's Car" not to mention his liner notes which mention Fahey quite a bit. He also points out there that even though his instrumentals aren't really *about* anything, they still have associations for him, and will doubtless evoke unknown memories in the listener... This also features a guest appearance from Pelt's Jack Rose (dueting on the track "Linden Avenue Stomp") whose own solo albums of solo guitar music have been much praised by us and others, and who recently wowed AQ with an instore performance.
A fantastic split lp released for Record Store Day, on one side Mr. Glenn Jones, formerly of modern krautrockers Cul De Sac, now an undisputed master of the Appalachian guitar, on the other side, a bluegrass hoedown teamup, bluesman Charlie Parr and country string band the Black Twig Pickers.
Fans of Jack Rose (who Jones dedicated this record to), James Blackshaw, Marisa Nadler, Ilyas Ahmed, Tom Carter and the like who haven't heard Glenn Jones, now's the time to remedy that for sure. Lush tangles of intricate steel string picking, gorgeous melodies, plenty of buzz and slippery slide, rich overtones, from moody dark drift to effusive folk flecked twang, every track here is a gem, Jones a modern master of the Appalachian guitar.
The flipside finds Parr shacking up with The Black Twig Pickers for a serious hootenanny, a back porch, sun-going-down, campfire country folk bluegrass jam session, fiddles, banjos, steel string guitars, all whipping up a wild rollicking country workout, from dark haunting twang to old timey blues, from rollicking hoedown to mournful lament...
LIMITED Record Store Day release, so these may not be around for long. Housed in a super heavy full color jacket, includes a download coupon, and multiple inserts, including some recipes from Charlie Parr.
It's hearing records like this that kind of make listening to any new rock n' roll, as lo-fi and garage-y as it may seem, just sound like total fluff. Today's rockers can't compare to the blasts of impassioned fire and raw righteous shouts of belief that come pouring with soul out of the body of Atlanta's Rev. Johnny L. Jones. For years he has been broadcasting his songs and sermons on WYZE in Atlanta, and Dust-To-Digital, who definitely have a knack for this sort of thing, knew that these were sounds that deserved a much wider audience. Because no matter what religious stripe you're are, or even those of us who don't believe in that higher being at all, you can't deny that this is music with 100 percent absolute conviction and raw power. This is total gospel rock n' roll, with the kind of early blues grit and hip shaking fuel that the best kind of soul music contains. Over this two disc collection there are over two dozen smoking songs as well as clips of sermons, guest soloists and some awesome short commercial clips that the Reverend delivers with the same kind of zealous urgency and single minded purpose.
We can think of so many of our favorite frontmen, like John Reis (Rocket From The Crypt), John Dwyer (Thee Oh Sees), and Ian Svenious (The Make Up) who for sure would be sitting front and center, taking notes during any of Jones' services. We can't emphasize enough just how damn good this music is! And as always Dust-To-Digital does it right with handsome packaging and liner notes from the Reverend himself. We believe!
We've been loving us some hell-fire Gospel tunes lately, thanks especially to Tompkins Square's Fire in My Bones triple cd threat and of course the granddaddy of all Gospel collections, Dust to Digital's Goodbye Babylon box set. So we're extra excited about this release coming from Parlortone, the vinyl arm of Dust to Digital. While this is not a Gospel Music recording per se, the figure at this center of this recording, The Rev. Johnny L. "Hurricane" Jones was a popular Gospel singer in the sixties and seventies, but he was even more well-known for his sermons, and since 1960 has recorded many of them on reel-to-reel and cassette tape. He still preaches in Atlanta to this day at the age of 73! So this record is a collection of some of his best sermons including the 13 minute title track, Jesus Christ from A-Z which he preaches in alphabetical verse. But what makes these sermons stand out is the sounds of the choir and his congregation responding with Amens, whooops, shouts, and Hallelujahs. Even if you are not religiously inclined, just the field recording quality of the sounds makes it amazingly worthwhile.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Wonderful! Damien Jurado works his magic once again. Although make no bones about it, Jurado is wholly his own man, on this album, both his songs and his performances bring to mind other top notch singer/songwriters past and present. Perhaps an indication of a broadening of his scope, the fourth song "Lion Tamer" is strongly reminiscent of Lou Barlow's slouchy introspection, while later in the album "Northbound" captures the brittle lilt and beauty of Nick Drake, and the very next one titled "Icicle" bristles with the sullen angst of Interpol. On the closer "A Jealous Heart Is A Heavy Heart" Jurado almost out-Palaces Will Oldham. So, what is the common thread that ties all of these artists together? The ability to absolutely nail the breadth of a man's despairing emotions from the precarious and fragile to the near-suffocating and burdensome. A lush, gorgeous downer.
The first song on this album is instantly 'classic' singer songwriter stuff, so lovely that we were knocked over with surprise. Damien Jurado's beautiful second album is a dark and dreamy folk record with pop sensibilities, as opposed to his first record which was basically a pop record, his delicate warm voice perfectly complementing the sparse simple arrangements. Definitely for fans of Nick Drake, Dylan, Nanci Griffith, etc. One of Windy's current favorites.
Mari Kalkun is a contemporary Estonian folk singer, who has taken up the task of resurrecting the early 20th century folk songs from her homeland, with many of her lyrics reworked from works by Estonian poets dating back to the 1920s. Kalkun was the artist who introduced us to the haunting singing quartet Utsiotso, a group that shares a similar influence and inspiration, in those selfsame early Estonian folk music traditions. That said, there's quite a lot we don't know about Estonian folk music; but from what she mentions about her own songwriting, Kalkun follows one particular strain - vaibakloppimine. This is a stripped down style for voice, minimal accompaniment, and a distinctive lack of drums, which presumably are prominent or at least present in other Estonian folk musics. In order to even attempt such a style, one has to have decent pipes; and Kalkun certainly has a beautiful voice, one that would bring to mind the empathic delivery of Chan Marshall. But with her minimalist arrangements for guitar, zither, or piano, the most obvious reference to us is Sibylle Baier. That should certainly register as high praise from aQuarius!
"Hommukuvalge" is a downright beautiful number gliding around the simple vocal and guitar melodies that evokes the carefree daydreaminess of a wander through a sun-flecked forest collecting mushrooms and blueberries (quite the common weekend excursion for Estonians!) Kalkun puts the words of Estonian poet Raimond Kolk to music on "Tuulo Kaen" with a blossoming accordion drone, fragile clusters of piano notes, and her full-throated, harmonious voice taking a rather dramatic turn at the chorus. Elsewhere she adopts lyrics from Tove Jansson's Moomin stories, which were allegorical children's books with fantastical creatures akin to a Scandinavian Dr. Seuss. This song "Koduvana Puhendus" eschews the bittersweetness of the rest of the album, with its Germanic oompa rhythm cast in soft focus and Kalkun's cascading trills that sound a lot like John Jacob Niles. All sung in Estonian, mind you; but Kalkun's ability to emote transcends languages, and she's crafted quite a gem of an album.
As we mentioned in our review of the last King Dude record, you really couldn't come up with a less appropriate name for a group like this, a group whose sound is some sort of brooding, moody, post industrial neofolk, all haunting and apocalyptic, deep crooned vox and lush layered strum, but like all weird band names, they eventually become so familiar and so inexorably linked to the sounds, it's hard to separate the two. This latest King Dude record finds T.J. Cowgill, the one man behind this one man band, adding some classic country to his sound, a sound which already touched on classic seventies psychedelic folk, as well as the martial industrial of groups like Death In June, Blood Axis, Sol Invictus and the rest, but this hint of classic country definitely transforms the sound into something else entirely.
Opener "Don't Want Me Still" sounds like a classic country ballad, mixed with a sixties girl group production, and some Mazzy Star like shoegaze, everything slathered in effects, thick whorls of delay and echo, all hazy and druggy and so divinely dreamy, weird too, when the vox pitch down and become a strange sort of gurgling rumble. Elsewhere KD touches on the swampy apocalyptic folk of groups Like Woven Hand and Sixteen Horsepower, but with creepy deep vocals that sound more like Pete Steele, and gives the sound a distinctly gloomy gothic vibe.
A couple of the tracks here are spare and skeletal and sound distinctly slowcore, reminding us a bit of Low, with woozy guitars, and sweetly angelic female back up vox, while others seem to touch on the sort of fractured lo-fi rockabilly of Dirty Beaches, that crumbling low fidelity crooned creep, with still others sounding like classic torch songs reimagined as dark strummed dronefolk. The sound drifting drowsily from urgent and strident, to hushed and ominously menacing, to dreamy and droney and darkly warped and woozy. So great.
Some of the SWEETEST packaging we've seen, stark black and white jackets, diecut with the shapes of sigils cut out, revealing the strange full color imagery beneath. LIMITED TO 500 COPIES. Each one hand numbered.
King Dude is a tough one to figure out. First there's the name which is evocative of pretty much everything KD is not, and the sound, a constant shifting mix of post industrial neo-folk, dark gothic torch songs, old time balladry, sinister apocalyptic country, and stripped down sixties girl group songsmithery, and on this latest single, a teaser for an upcoming full length, the sound shifts once again, this time, it's all acoustic guitar and vocals, wreathed in a bit of glimmery FX, the voice a deep ravaged croon, that slips occasionally into something more snarly, everything echo drenched, the 7" label bears the legend 'dungeon doo wop' which is not a bad description at all. The A side finishes off with a gorgeous lush harmony vocal-ed coda that leads directly into the even more stripped down non-album B side, a slithery, skeletal blues, nothing but voice and guitar, the voice this time an impossibly deep almost gurgly rumble, which gives the whole sound a darkly demonic vibe.
Comes lavishly packaged in a super thick jacket, and with a big fold out black and white poster. LIMITED TO 300 COPIES, each one hand numbered.
We've been meaning to list this for a while now, but we were always stumped as to how to describe it. It's just so good, and so beautiful and so poignant, we weren't sure a review could do it justice. This is some gorgeously dark, dreamy, stripped down classic finger pickin' country blues, recorded on a 4 track in a shed on the side of a mountain. Cast King is a legendary (around some parts) picker and songsmith, playing since the 40's, even recording a handful of tracks at the legendary Sun Studios. Now in his eighties, these tracks were recorded a year or two back, with just Cast and Matt Downer, who tracked him down during a project to record the music and document the musicians of old Sand Mountain in Alabama.
The liner notes are hilarious, documenting how the two finally got together to "pick" and do some recording. The sound is super spare, stripped down, intimate and personal. King's vocals are warm and rich, weathered but still sweet and velvety. His strumming simple, his lead playing perfect. And his songs are stone cold classics. Any one of these songs, could have been played by Cash, or Jennings, or Haggard and been big ol' hits. In fact if the dice fell just a little bit differently, you'd be seeing Cast King tapes at truck stops all over the US. But as it is, he just sort of faded away, taking his "sackful of songs" with him.
And while this disc doesn't quite make up for the injustice of Cast King not being a household name or a country music legend, it's so damn good to hear these songs now. They definitely sound like timeless classics, so warm and familiar like you've heard them a million times before, but still original and distinctly Cast King. And as far as we're concerned, these are country classics, even if they were maybe never meant to be.
We have been anxiously awaiting the return of the strangely named Kiss The Anus Of A Black Cat, the apocalyptic folk project of Stef Heeren, a Belgian instrument builder and musician, who managed to create one of the darkest, most compelling 'folk' records in recent memory. A dark world of strum and buzz, equal parts Comus, Current 93, Woven Hand, Swans and the like. His voice a strange strangled croon, venomous and dramatic, over intensely strummed acoustic guitars and all manner of ambient backdrops.
Things have changed quite a bit on An Interlude To The Outermost, much of the sound is the same, the aggressive acoustic guitars, the vocals, the apocalyptic foreboding, but now there are drums, drums that anchor and drive each song, giving the record a much different vibe, not at all unappealing, just a lot different. Where If The Sky Falls, We Shall Catch Larks seemed to drift, unhinged and unmoored, no distinct rhythms to pin it down, each song hovering like black smoke from a forest campfire, An Interlude To The Outermost is much more structured, songs, arrangements, the drums are an obvious shift, but the tempos too, and the overall sound, this is distinctly more rocking, a sort of near-rollicking campfire folk jam, bringing to mind 16 Horsepower and even the Pogues here and there, albeit much more nihilistic and dark. And the sound is a lot more lush as well, with a wider array of instrumentation, the drums, but also accordion, and electric guitar. In fact, more than ever KTAOABC sounds like some impossible mix of Current 93, 16 Horsepower and New Model Army. If that makes any sense. But it's awesome. Epic and intense, brooding and moody, but a bit rocking as well.
The melodies are still lilting and minor key, the mood is most definitely miserablist, a dour dreary black folk, but with epic blasts of full on, heavily instrument-ed folk ROCK. It takes some getting used to, but once you do, it does make perfect sense. There are still some moments reminiscent of the first record, the funereal crawl of "You Will Reap A Whirlwind", the wheezing dirge of "Beyond The Tanarian Hills"... And actually, even at its most rocking this disc is just as dark and sinister sounding. It's just slightly more lush and upbeat, but it suits the sound. And the more we listen to it, the less we can imagine it sounding any other way. Where the first record channeled dark forests, and leafless trees, crows on abandoned farmhouses, open expanses of barren fields, the new record is the thunder of horse hooves, the rumble of thunder, the shadow of storm clouds, a fierce and furious, subtly rocking, epic and intense divine doom folk. And like the first disc, essential for fans of all things C93, Nick Cave, Death In June, Comus, Swans, Der Blutharsch, Richard Youngs, Woven Hand and 16HP.
Beautifully packaged in a minimally screenprinted fold over cardboard sleeve, with a striking image on the cover, an old fashioned looking drawing of a bedraggled kitten and a big ball of yarn...
It's been ages and ages since we last heard from Kiss The Anus Of A Black Cat. All three of the previous KTAOABC records: An Interlude To The Outermost, If the Sky Falls, We Shall Catch Larks and The Nebulous Dreams, were all huge hits around here. KTAOABC, aka Stef Heeren is a Belgian musician, who also builds his own instruments, and past records have all played out like some impossible mix of Comus, Woven Hand, Swans and Current 93. A brooding, dark apocalyptic folk, that has definitely evolved over the years, always spare and haunting, but also always mysterious and ominous, slightly sinister, and a little witchy. Heeren employed quite a varied sonic palette as well, the core vocals and acoustic guitar augmented by piano, bells, strings, and on the last record, even drums, transforming the more drifty vibe of past records into something more rocking and propulsive.
But on Hewers Of Wood, Heeren seems to pull back a bit, there are still drums, but the songs seem more subdued, hauntingly minimal, back to the creepy dirgey folk of Kiss The Anus records of old. In fact, more than ever, KTAOABC is sounding like Woven Hand / Sixteen Horsepower, a similar knack for melody, the same sort of strident vocalizing, at times his voice a dead ringer for David Eugene Edwards, the swampy bluesy folk, it's a sound we love, and Heeren is a master, and these songs are super intense and emotional, hypnotic and mesmerizing, and so catchy and gorgeously creepy.
The first three songs are practically perfect, the slo-mo Comus-y waltz of the title track, the buzz flecked urgency of "All Your Ghosts Are Worried", and "Argonaut And Magneto" which could easily mistaken for a Woven Hand song (if it wasn't for that Belgian accent), so much so that it almost sounds like a cover, but also means it's gorgeous and powerful intensely moving.
The whole record oozes with a sense of foreboding, as if each song was some sort of cautionary tale, stories of lives lost, loves lost, forgotten memories and other, better times, and this sense of loss and regret, as well as some hope for redemption and forgiveness, that all seems to seep into every note, every lyric, helping transform this swampy bluegrassy folk music into something more, acid tinged, subtly psychedelic, emotionally powerful, sonically revelatory, dark meaningful music. Gorgeous!
How can you resist a band name like Kiss The Anus Of A Black Cat? And with a name like that, what can one possibly expect musically? Well, surprisingly the music here manages to conjure up the same sort of dark confusional forboding that the name hints at. Forbidden? Taboo? Some sort of alchemical majick? Some sort of witchy incantation? Why else would one...um, well you know. On If The Sky Falls, We Shall Catch Larks, KTAOABC, the project of a young Belgian musician and instrument builder named Stef Heeren, unfurls a gorgeously dark, mesmerizing chunk of minimal, melodic, brooding, lilting and lovely doom folk. Harrowing and brooding, falling somewhere between the apocalyptic ur-folk of Current 93, the rickety, swampy biblical dirge of Woven Hand, the brooding acoustic bombast of later Swans, seventies pagan psych-folk (Comus, Incredible String Band, etc.) and even some of the strident prostletyzing of New Model Army. Very spare in its instrumentation and structure, aggressively strummed acoustic guitars underpinning ultra dramatic and slightly venomous vocals, occasional bells and strings and piano, subtle cooing background vocals, all very repetitive and hypnotic, churning in a thick fog of emotional turmoil and spiritual unease. Dark and droning, intense and intensely fervent, slipping from loose slithery balladeering to fiery and impassioned swells of soul-laid-bare sermonizing. Really quite amazing. Fans of C93, Nick Cave, Death In June, Comus, Swans, Der Blutharsch, Richard Youngs, Woven Hand and 16HP will certainly swoon, but this should definitely appeal to fans of all things emotional and dark, folky and forboding. Beautifully packaged in a minimally screenprinted fold over cardboard sleeve.
One song, spread out over two sides, each a distinctly different movement, from one of our favorite modern apocalyptic freak folks, Kiss The Anus Of The Black Cat, aka, Belgian bard Stef Irritant.
We raved about the KTAOABC full lengths, and if you don't have those you should get them now, but if you need a taster, this is the perfect place to start.
The A side is a slow burning slab of simple spare strumming, stripped down percussion, hovering over a sea of creaks and background buzzes, brief flurries of muted tribal percussion. The song builds and builds into a super impassioned climax, the vocals wailing, the drums pounding, sounding like the perfect mix of Current 93 and the Woven Hand.
The flipside, is the same song, and begins already a bit revved up, but here the vocals are wrapped in effects and processed into strange ghostly whispers, the guitars, the vocals, everything is stretched into streaks of droney buzz, again working its way up to an epic bombastic finale, all chaotic percussion, crashing drums and thick sheets of feeding back guitars.
Gorgeously packaged in a white textured paper sleeve, printed inside and out, with a Japanese style obi and pressed on white vinyl.
There is something so damn special about family bands. You know... the Jackson 5, The Beach Boys, the Bee Gees, ESG, people who share roots that really allow them to communicate with each other on another level. These three young siblings (we think they still might be in their teens!) out of North London, Kitty, Daisy and Lewis, have that special something together and with it, they tap into the vintage sound of Sun records, classic rockabilly, that awesome intersection of country music and rock n roll. They nail the sound and aesthetic so perfectly.
The recording is totally analog and its warmth and rugged quality shines through so strongly. These are kids who grew up in a totally amazing musical environment, with a father who is one of the top engineers at the London mastering studio The Exchange and a mother that played drums for The Raincoats!! So it makes perfect sense that these kids have so much respect for the history of music and that they would make something with all the right ingredients and their own unique energy. This really is in so many ways to vintage rock n' roll what folks like Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings and Nicole Willis & The Soul Investigators are to classic vintage soul. They capture the absolute sound and mindset of that special moment in time, yet bring a spunk and enthusiasm that is truly their own. Think if Holly Golightly and a more revved up Jolie Holland joined forces and tackled covers from the Sun Records catalog, AWESOME!
What is more amazing than discovering a whole movement in music that had never been documented, let alone even heard of. EVER! No mention in any books, magazines, not a single trace. What if that music was in fact the music of Funerary violins. A music created and composed to be performed at funerals. The only evidence of these musics, some scratchy old wax cylinder recordings, some faded photos, and brittle sheafs of old sheet music. A music that flourished in the 1800's and disappeared almost completely by the 1900's after the Catholic church's Great Funerary Purges. Only recently discovered in a locked trunk was the music of Herr Gratchenfleiss, recorded to wax cylinder by Wilhelm Kleinbach. The sound a mournful miserable, gorgeously minor key dirge. So completely moving and emotional, the recordings thick with static and crackle, only adding to the power and timelessness of the music. What could be more amazing?
How about making the whole thing up? Constructing an elaborate history of a genre that never existed. Populating this history with lifelike characters, creating photos, sheet music, historical documents, but most amazingly, recording all the music, and treating it to sound as if it was some old wax cylinder recording.
Hard to say which would be more amazing, a wholly undiscovered hidden dark corner of musical history, quashed by the church and relegated to be lost forever, or an insanely detailed project, the ultimate conceptual art piece. Either way, we are in love with this stuff.
Simply from a musical standpoint, this is everything we could hope for. The recordings are fuzzy and staticky, bathed in layers of crackle and grit, and years of neglect and decay, but beneath the recording inconsistencies we love so much, are some truly moving and emotionally rich performances, the melodies are so intense and sad, minor key and mournful. truly funereal. It's impossible not to imagine some old funeral procession, a row of black clad mourners, trudging down a dirt road, with their deceased atop an old wooden cart, the sky grey, the music of the Funerary violinist winding around the procession like wreaths of black smoke. So goddamn lovely. We have been listening to this non-stop since we got it.
And then there's the story. The "history". Is it real? Is it possible that a musical movement could disappear so completely. So much so that not a single person anywhere EVER had heard of the Guild Of Funerary Violinists? Or is it all a huge put-on? A massive made up world? The ultimate outsider art project. Either way, we are completely blown away. If this is indeed real, HOLY SHIT! How utterly mysterious and romantic!! We do sort of want to believe it's real. It's so perfectly evocative of some other time, of death and sadness throughout the ages. But if it is in fact made up, it has to be one of the most brilliantly conceived and executed hoaxes of all time. There's even a book (you can probably find at you local bookstore), filled with photos and sheet music, and histories of all the players, the birth and death of the genre, it's so detailed and elaborate, so much so it almost seems impossible that someone could have created all of this from thin air, if it was made up, it must have been the creator's life's work. Years and years of methodical planning and writing and recording for sure. But either way, it's magical and fascinating, and 'real' or not, the music is truly gorgeous, and the story completely captivating, both intertwined into some sort of time machine, perfectly transporting us to that rain splattered dirt road, the soaring sad sounds of the Funerary violin drifting into the black sky...
Before there was Joanna Newsom, there was Carol Kleyn, a young hippie spirit with an ethereal songbird voice who wrote rapturous paeans to love and nature on her harp. So it makes sense then that Newsom's label, Drag City, would reissue this lovely private press recording from 1976. Studying at the University of Santa Barbara, Kleyn befriended Bobby Brown (the instrument builder who recorded the amazing old aQ fave The Enlightening Beam of Axonda) and she assisted him with his constructions and live performances. He gifted her the harp, and she began to learn to play and write her own songs, eventually opening for Gregg Allman. Instead of waiting to get a record deal, she decided to make a record on her own and released it on her own label. She recorded two other lps soon after, before devoting herself full time to her family.
Love has Made Me Stronger divides its compositions between harp and electric piano. Her tone is bright and the songs exude a sunny yet eccentric warm energy. Similar to the beautiful Collie Ryan and Connie Converse reissues we listed a while back, Carol Kleyn's debut is a much-needed positive ray of sunshine in these dark days.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
After marvelling (if you're at all of our mindset) at the cover painting, which features some sort of dulcimer, an electric guitar, and an amplifier itself decorated with a painting of a dead tree and a sunset, the first thing that'll grab you about this 1977 Swedish folk-rock reissue is that it's so superbly recorded -- crystal clear, not too slick or over produced, just simply sterling, live-in-your-room sound that belies this album's misty '70s origin. Though ordinarily we find dusty, crackly, low-fi recordings of long-lost folkesque psychedelia to be preferably evocative and mysterious, this just sounds *amazing*. So, your ears will rejoice at how great Kong Lavring sounds...and then, the songs. So good. Kong Lavring made a terrific mix of traditional Norwegian folk music and electric rock instrumentation, with the choppy bite of "Liti Kjersti" being a particularily stellar example of such. With both male and female vocals -- Viking style male choirs chanting it up, and lovely sweet female vocals, capable of exquisite unaccompanied beauty. Though never particularily popular (they made only two albums, of which this is the first), Kong Lavring could be considered a Norwegian version of Fairport Convention, to make a loose comparison. Also recommended for fans of Turid, Kebnekajse, Arbete Och Fritid, and other Scandinavian folk/rock outfits -- perhaps even those of the black metal variety like Storm. The aforementioned cover art suggests a lot to those of us enamoured of the '70s hippy folk vibe, and this disc is indeed as good as the cover portends.
Out of the major Takoma triumvirate of John Fahey, Robbie Basho and Leo Kottke, it is the latter who probably had the most mainstream appeal, but definitely the least hipster cred. Probably due to his early and sudden career switch from an amazing virtuoso instrumentalist to a rather mediocre singer/songwriter. But it's this debut recording of solo guitar work from 1969 of which listeners should take notice. Arguably, the most successful record on the Takoma label (it has sold over 500,000 copies), it is also one of the best. Definitely a student of Fahey school of tongue in cheek liner notes and eccentric song titles like "Vaseline Machine Gun" and "The Brain of The Purple Mountain", Kottke displays a knowing range of blues, pop, classical and folk styles. Though probably not as insistently ornery as Fahey's style could be, there is a pensive resonance that keeps Kottke's pastoralism from getting sappy. For sure, one of the best solo guitar records that actually helped create and popularize the genre originally! Nice to have it again on vinyl.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Super lovely acoustic guitar twangy figerpicking. Just perfect! A new recording from Kottke, and his first all-instrumental all-guitar album since his legendary 6 & 12 String Guitar debut 30 or so years ago!
Traditional Seasonal FolkTunes from British banjo chanteuse.
Folk music from Oxford, England's Sharron Kraus, possesser of an airy yet resonant voice, accompanied by banjo, fiddle, mandolin, and an occasional whistle which gives the entire record an authentic old-timey, Renaissance Faire sheen. If you can handle the "oooh butterfly man" chorus in the first track ("Peacock's Daughter"), you'll like the rest of it. Think Shirley Collins, Anne Briggs, maybe even a little Sandy Denny.
Angel-voiced bluegrass singer with her most accessible album to date.
It's safe to say that few people throughout the history of humankind have lived a life quite like that of legendary songwriter Kris Kristofferson. Kristofferson followed an unlikely path, from his youth as an Army brat, becoming a Rhodes Scholar and an Army Captain before ultimately ending up in Nashville where he worked a variety of jobs, including janitor at the studio where Dylan was busy recording Blonde On Blonde, construction worker, and helicopter pilot. All along the way things were fueled by a potent cocktail of booze, amphetamines, and weed. More importantly, however, Kristofferson spent his days honing his songwriting chops along with others in an elite songwriting circle referred to as the Nashville Underground, licensing his songs to other artists. Perhaps the most famous example being "Me And Bobby McGee" as sung by Janis Joplin, Kristofferson's lover at the time of her death. All of this culminated in a surprising rise to stardom in his 30s, and the guy even managed to find success as an actor, complete with some Barbara Streisand appearances, a staple of thrift store record bins... Goddamn.
This collection of early demos recorded between 1968 and 1972 offers an amazing insight into Kristofferson's process. He was a lifelong fan of William Blake, who inspired him to fiercely maintain "the duty of an artist to be an artist". Perhaps this is the reason others first had success with Kristofferson's songs, as these demos display a suitably raw approach from a singer who sounds like he "gargled with whiskey," according to the liner notes. Still, with all the rough edges it's clear that we are listening in on a supremely passionate singer. Kristofferson's weary voice is ultimately triumphant, but also loaded with booze soaked melancholy. These songs also display his unique sense of humor, like the amazing "If You Don't Like Hank Williams", and "Getting By, High And Strange", where Kristofferson's mistakes are followed by numerous mumblings of "Fuck!". Awesome.
The sound here is amazing, clear and upfront, and the musicians aren't afraid to let the tape keep rolling. Comes packaged in a nice looking, foil stamped digipack with a booklet literally bulging with information and recollections from people like Dennis Hopper, Merle Haggard, and others who have probably experienced way more than most of us could comprehend. All in all another essential document from the always amazing Light In The Attic label.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
One guy and his acoustic guitar, conjuring up the spirits of Kottke, Basho, and Fahey. Gentle, mellow, folk-classical guitar explorations, pretty and somewhat melancholy. Kunin's playing, while adept and intricate, is not as out there as what fellow
Who kicks ass? Frankie Laine, that's who! Those of us here who know that, were stoked to see this new disc on Omni, the awesome Australian reissue label who've brought us a lot of weird '60s and '70s country music obscurities, among other things... this ain't country, but it IS cowboy. High noon showdown gunfighter style. Although Frankie Laine, born Francesco LoVecchio, a Sicilian-American, was brought up in the big city of Chicago, where his grandfather was apparently gunned down by mobsters during Prohibition (!), he made his mark as a singer in part by evoking another mythic, lawless era in American history: the Old West! With songs like "Bowie Knife", "The 3:10 To Yuma", "Wanted Man", "The Hanging Tree", "Dead Man's Hand", and "Gunfight At The O.K. Corral" (all included here), Frankie Laine was the go-to guy for your Western horse opera film theme song...
Yet, as we said, this music not country by a long shot, more like full-throated big band pop. Nor is it weird and obscure, far from it (although several of the 28 tracks here have never in fact been on cd before). Hugely popular in his prime, selling millions of records in the '50s and '60s, Laine was a big star with a big voice. And what a voice! Well supported by the bombastic jazz orchestra arrangements (many courtesy of "Johnny" Williams, later of Star Wars fame), Laine's showstopping tenor is, however, the main attraction. He really belts is out, they called him "Mr. Leather Lungs" for a reason! Perfect for mythic, larger than life ballads of manly adventure, and songs about dreary workingman's toil as well. Some of this material might sound corny to modern ears, but talent shines through, and it's pure entertainment. We can honestly say that folks here who were expecting this to be hokey instead were quite surprised at how much they enjoyed it, comparing it to some of Scott Walker's or Gene Pitney's more dramatic performances! And it's certainly got some of the same "saddles and sixguns" kitsch factor as Omni's enjoyable Lorne Green reissue, but of course Laine is a much more gifted singer, these are actual classics.
Growing up listening to everything from opera to blues to jazz, Laine possessed plenty of technique in addition to a naturally commanding voice, and listening to the title track here for instance, you can understand how folks who originally only heard him on the radio might have assumed he was African American, he almost sounds like Cab Calloway on that one. This disc really spans his oeuvre, including a bunch of his aforementioned hits, plus standards like "Riders In The Sky", along with others we'd never heard before, drawn from a half dozen LPs and a like number of 45's circa 1956-'64. There's all those Western themed songs of course, he also tackles such subjects as bullfighting ("The Moment Of Truth") and coal mining (Merle Travis's "Sixteen Tons", though actually we prefer Tennessee Ernie Ford's version, surprisingly finding Laine's rendition just a bit too cutesy), with odes to femme fatales thrown in as well ("The Swamp Girl")....
As with all Omni titles thus far, nicely done. The 18 page cd booklet includes thorough liner notes (where were learned about his grandfather's demise), lots of photos and album covers. Nice. Definitely one of the best single disc Frankie Laine collections we've seen, all it's missing is "Mule Train". Many of the tracks here were bigger sellers back in the day than most things that Omni has previously reissued, but do YOU have 'em already? If not, you're missing out. Once you've heard "Bowie Knife", you'll be hooked. Or at least, we were, from a very young age!
Between this new album from Lambchop and those from Jason Molina and M. Ward, whoa, this is quite the week for country rock excellence!
Listening to the latest Lambchop album is a lot like wrapping your winter-chilled bones in an old wool blanket... or like being hugged by your favorite bearded uncle -- a bit bristly, but utterly warm and comforting. Y'know, something/someone you can always count on. Their country rooted sound is thick, smooth and dark like molasses with the piano, bass, steel guitar, strings and vocals all melting together beautifully. When this band is 'on' they simply can't be beat for deep, shadowy Americana goodness, and with Damaged they most definitely are! Recommended!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
