Lampreys And Gigolos is the debut album from this SF storytelling songsmith, and quite an impressive introduction it is! The songs that Chris Porro crafts run the gamut from earthy heartfelt folk ("Secret Story") to straight-up catchy pop ("Pop Star") -- often akin to the broad scope of Robert Pollard of Guided By Voices. His warm, lilting voice is sometimes reminiscent of Ken Stringfellow and Jonathan Auer of The Posies and other times of Chris Isaak. Along the way, Porro embellishes his path with interesting lil' noise details and lush string and organ treasures here 'n' there. Nice!
On the opening track of their debut album When The Rain Comes, Oaklanders Port O'Brien struck us as being quite vocally reminiscent of the frailty of This Heat (particularly their vocals in "Fall Of Saigon" from their self-titled album). From there though mainman Van Pierzalowski keeps things much more in a straightforward rough-hewn folkiness mode that in turn brings to mind early Bright Eyes. Some rousing whistlin' and hollerin' embellish the tune "Split" which is followed by the ultra hushed delicate number "Dance With Our Ashes". Nice.
Deeeeeeep spiritually-charged drones from this supergroup of Bay Area heavy experimentalists. You are going to want to just hammer the "Add To Cart" button when we list all the members involved: folks from Barn Owl, Date Palms, Tarentel, En, Higuma and The Alps! The Root Strata All-Stars, basically, though this is on Important. Three tracks, the first, "D" is a side long affair, delving into the most harmonically aligned keys of the western scale utilizing both electric and acoustic instruments including violin, harmonium, tamboura, koto, sine wave oscillator, bass clarinet, tapes, shruti box and electric guitar in rich layered tones and frequencies. Side 2 begins with the all vocal meditation, "Sa" reminding us of David Hykes and The Harmonic Choir's cathedral amplified minimalist hymns before unleashing the deepest and heaviest track here, "Gong", which focuses on the shifting and shimmering metallic reverberations of the titular instrument. A beautifully honed study of harmony and frequency within a wonderfully attuned collective and collaborative spirit.
Housed in a hand screened heavy stock foldover jacket. LIMITED TO 500 copies, so act fast!
Oluyemi Thomas: Bass clarinet, C-melody, soprano saxophones, bamboo flute & percussion.
Ijeoma Thomas: Poetic vocals and percussion.
Roberto de Haven: Percussion.
If you love the warm female vocals of Call And Response or in fact those of '70s singers Helen Reddy or Maureen McGovern (remember the theme from "Poseidon Adventure"?), then hop to it! The SF duo known as Potion embrace many genres but most often find their way back to a smooth, lounge-y sound. A low and lilting, calming debut.
Hi-Tech Boom is the debut from SF synth punks Pow!, and it's a doozy. Fuzzy, poppy, synth, new wave-y, not that far removed from a lot of the Castle Face stable, but with some retro-futuristic synthiness that positions it somewhere between classic Gary Numan, vintage Suicide and newer outfits like the Mind Spiders. The synths slither and buzz, even the poppiest jangliest numbers are underpinned by thick buzzing layers of synth, and peppered with wild squalls of glitched out synthy psychedelia, but for the most part, the tracks are minimal, stripped down and tranced out, the vibe sort of druggy and laid back, the vocals snotty and snarly, but laid back and sorta wasted, and while some tracks get kinda rocking, the record seems to tend toward sorta midtempo groovers and swaggery stomps, often bordering on zoner dirgery, everything doused in echo and reverb, some total freaked out electro-garage weirdness ("Sugi Walks"), some eighties post punk wrapped in distorto sci-fi synths ("Switchboard Scientist"), and hooky synth flecked garage pop ("66") in equal measure. Castle Face obsessives will no doubt flip for this stuff, and we're suckers for synthed out garage punk anyway, especially when it's all sorta druggy and hypnotic, and thus, this comes highly recommended!!
Latest from these SF synth punks, and the opening track finds the band drifting into more straight up garage rock / pop territory, the synths are still present, but don't define the sound as much as add a gorgeous buzz to the proceedings, and give things a bit of a new wave vibe, otherwise, the jam is crunchy and fuzzy and poppy, makes sense that their most recent full length was on John Dwyer from Thee Oh Sees' Castle Face label. And maybe not so weirdly, the title track here almost sounds like a more rocking version of a song from Dwyer's recent synth side project Damaged Bug. But when the synths do pop up, like on "The Punisher" and the rest of the single, they dominate, and add a twisted outsidery weirdness to the proceedings, wild and psychedelic and new wave-y and catchy like crazy. "Fight Fire" is a progged out chunk of synth swaddled Oh Sees worship, right down to the vocalist's echo drenched vocal 'whoo's, and finally, "Hangin' Out (At Home)" is a noisy, synthy blast of glorious noise pop / garage punk radness, that's reminding us just why we dig these guys so much!
With the female yowls of Sleater Kinney, the in-your-face sweet presence of Mates of State, and indie rock power chords that twist your heart ever so painfully, the Pre-Teens break out with their second album. Possibly a little derivative but their hearts are
Yes, emo-boy-core seems perpetual, but we haven't really heard much from the emo-girl camp in some time, have we? Well, here we have The Pre-Teens: polished guitar pop that bounces us back to the mid-'90s. Swooping from feisty hit-the-road driving tunes to soft, thoughtful dreamers. It's already garnered plenty of inquiries and positive comments from in-store play. For For fans of Kristin Hersh, Jale or maybe even Team Dresch.
A few years back we were digging a cool 10" of orchestral pop from a San Francisco band called Lady Genius. We had wondered what happened to them and as it turns out, they are still around but have changed their name to Primary Structures.
With this full length we are once again taken by their ability to effortlessly create such bright and colorful pop songs. While they try to trick the listener into thinking its just very straightforward indie pop, the truth is their songs have really interesting arrangements and changes. We're reminded of some of our favorite records by The New Pornographers, The Dodos, and Dismemberment Plan. There are hints too of mathiness and even a touch of new romantic glam. But at its core, the sound is punchy and bright, fueled by confident vocals and crisp instrumentation.
For the longest time, when people into heavy music asked us who the best band in SF was, we would generally say Burmese (of course), maybe Slough Feg, sometimes the Fucking Champs, if they said EVER, then it would be Weakling hands down (or, well, we could argue for hours). But over the last few years, more and more amazing heavy bands have been giving those other bands a run for best-heavy-band-in-the-city money, none moreso than boy-girl-boy doom-crush psych-sludge trio Prizehog, who over the course of the last couple years have become the sort of band that should be HUGE. Every Melvins Nerd and Harvey Milk obsessive out there, should WORSHIP these guys (and gal). It's definitely only a matter of time, their records kill, but live they DESTROY, their set at our South By Southwest showcase was a stunner, and they sort of stole the show, and it's not hard to see why, especially here, on Prizehog record number two (number three if you count their long out of print debut cd-r), which finds the band further honing their sound, still present are of course massive skull caving drum pound, churning downtuned guitar chug, percolating sci-fi synths, the Melvins / Harvey Milk still huge, but Prizehog seem to want to be both a psychedelic space sludge band, and some sort of sludge pop band, and it's that split personality, that makes this shit rule, every song a push and pull between all out freakout, and hook heavy crunch, and somehow, instead of opting for one or the other, they simply figure out a way to do both at once, weaving impossibly catchy melodies, hooks galore into blackened doom sludge dirges, and then stretching that shit out into droned out psychedelic heaviness. The vocals a deep dramatic croon, the keyboard unleashing all manner of textures and psychedelic sounds, everything tangled up with the group's progged out downtuned crush.
All three songs here are great, but the 11 minute closer might be THEE jam here, a brooding slow build, all super textured and psychedelic, with some haunting harmony vocals, and twisted FX over a churning chug, and some doomic pound, the group allowing for lots of space, letting notes ring out, and gradually decay before the next hit, stretching it way out, before exploding into some serious mathed out noise rock pummel, only to then blossom into some weirdly progged out epic majestic bombast, before devolving into a closing coda of dirgey drum creep and blown out guitar moan, before a final blast of mathy crunch.
Released on the legendary Gravity Records label, which makes Prizehog labelmates with groups like Mohinder, Heroin, Clikatat Ikatowi, Angel Hair, The Locust, Man Is The Bastard, Universal Order Of Armageddon, Unwound and more! Fuck Yeah!
After a tiny handful of way too limited cd-r releases, and an endless series of devastating live aktions (including a show stealing opening slot at our 2009 South By Southwest showcase), comes the long awaited full length from this SF boy-girl-boy doom-crush psych-sludge power trio, a sprawling five, track, 40 minute epic, that will definitely hit the spot for all of you hard and heavies that like it slow and low, and dig the likes of the Melvins, Harvey Milk, Boris and other slo-mo dirge merchants. But Prizehog infuse their low end assault with all manner of druggy psychedelia, warped doom pop and blurred blissed out slow-core, conjuring up a sound that pounds and pummels, drift and shimmers, grinds and churns, slipping effortlessly from bombastic Melvinsy howl and chug, to a super hooky heaviness, that reminds us of the warped Buttholes beholden noisepop of Prizehog pals Wildildlife, from a sort of bluesy, blissed out tarpit ZZ Top swing and swagger, to a dark and dolorous black hole heavy slowcore a la Codeine or True Widow, often all wound up into a single song.
Thought Nest begins with "Swayback", opening with a little bit of harmonica flecked blues fakeout, that quickly transforms into some seriously downtuned heavy doompsychblues churn, lurching and mathy and metallic, but laced with some subtle groove, the vocals a sort of worldless croon, the song pounding away before slipping into a woozy, washed ouy lysergic haze, a blurred starfield of chiming guitars and whirling layered melodies, before returning to a more swaggery, slithery lumbering crunch, only to finally blossom into a skull caving, knuckle dragging bit of slo-mo dirgery, all bellowed howls and keening high end tones, wrapped around a pummeling, drum heavy dirge-metal doom-pop workout, grinding its way through clouds of tripped out FX, and finishing off like it began with a bit of harmonica-y blissed out blues, before one final blast of churn and chug.
"Dunner" is up next, unfurling a stretch of tripped out shimmer, draped over garbled soft focus white noise, all hovering beneath clouds of cymbal sizzle, spidery guitar melodies, a druggy bit of drift, before a flurry of monstrous drumming drags with it a glorious psychedelic metallic cacophony, wild squalls of tangled guitars over intense double kick drumming, only to slip right back into something way more abstract, moody and murky, a sort of blackened slo-mo ballad, some simmering slowcore shimmer, bleary and blurred, almost like a more metallic, more drugged out True Widow, the sound dense, and layered, alternatingly smeared and shimmery, soaring and pop flecked, crusty and crunchy...
The oddly titled "Aykranoid" explodes with a chugging almost Eighties style metal riffing wrapped around some pounding black hole drum pummel, wild swooping and swirling effects, and some seriously twisted vox, the aforementioned vocal bellow, but here even MORE bellowy, drenched in effects and way up in the mix, spitting out mush mouthed stream of consciousness vokills, that add a weird psychedelic avant pop vibe to the otherwise more metallic backdrop, before again shifting into a slow slithery crawl, the sound epic and majestic, but still muddy and murky, warped and woozy.
"1865" is a bit more introspective, a slowly materializing smoldering bit of chordal guitardrone buzz, spread out into a gauzy hypnotic hypno-dirge, the beats spread way out, each chord allowed to ring out, and fade into something softer and more shadowy and nebulous, a contorted bit of dark dirge droniness, the sound shifting from crash and crunch, to muted thrum, all very trancelike and ritualistic, especially when the ghostly washed out vocals drift in, the sound transforming into a sort of crumbling, super distorted dream pop, again sounding more like a bastardized True Widow or Codeine, although here the sound grows ever more caustic and corrosive, but never without losing that moody pop vibe, just getting louder, and more dense, eventually locking into a more metallic bit of contorted churn, only to bliss out a bit, before a final stretch of lurching, pounding pop flecked pummel.
Finally, the record finishes off with "Ramsong", which begins in a cloud of grinding guitar noise, and swirls of chaotic buzz, a wild bit of droned out static psych, out of which emerges yet another gorgeous bit of low slung slowcore shimmer, dreamy and druggy and drifty, before exploding in a blast of seriously cruching metallic riffery, the drums a wild octopoidal pound, the vocals that weird Tom Waits / Buzz Osborne bellow, the sound nearly schizophrenic, flitting from pretty drift, to damaged dirge, rife with cool little gnarled guitar licks, streaks of feedback, layers of buried melody, a stuttering sprawl of strangely melodic heaviness, an expansive epic chugscape, that seems to grow more poppy as the song unwinds, and weirdly enough getting darker and more dense, while simultaneously seeming to space out, drifting into something more psychedelic abstract. The song finally begins to dissipate, the various elements loosed from structured song and allowed to float weightless, a darkly delirious night sky of loosely tangled melodies, of overlapping spectral voices, of washed out guitar buzz and deep low end rumbles, soft focus effects and dreamy druggy blissed out ambience.
Fucking SO RULING, gorgeous stuff for sure, crushing, hypnotic, heavy and heady, poppy and spacey, the sort of thing that should appeal to folks who dig the dooooom, or the druggy psychedelia, or the dirgey slowcore, or the warped pop, or the sludgey metal, and just might be your favorite new record if you dig ALL of those. Which we absolutely DO!!
Pressed on 180 gram vinyl and LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!
Folks outside of San Francisco are probably unaware of the bitchin' underground rock scene going on here, and we're not talking about the experimental / drone / cd-r scene, that scene is happening too but those folks get way more press. We're talking about the bands, the rock bands, that play basements, play at Thrillhouse Records, a killer performance space / shop in the Mission, who release cd-r's too, but whose sound is more metal and sludge and rock than drone and drift and shimmer.
Wildildlife when they were here were part of that scene. So are Ovens, THE best pop band in the city (with a record coming out on tUMULt any day now), then there's Robocop III, who we've yet to hear, but like based entirely on their name. And then there's Prizehog, who have probably played with all those bands, but whose sound is all their own.
Their cd-r is 5 long songs, each one a slow building, brooding chunk of slow motion heaviness. It's metallic, but not really metal, heavy and sludgey and dark, but with weird bits of epicness and majesty mixed in. There's definitely a Harvey Milk thing going on, and we'd be WAY surprised if fans of that band didn't dig these guys as well. Not so say they're aping HM, more like they're sort of orbiting the same sonic black hole.
Plus Prizehog have a lot more spaciness going on, lots of swirl and shimmer, long drawn out stretches of dark drift, rumbling low end and ominous dronescapes, often sprawling into moody abstract slowcore drifts, peppered with synths, skeletal rhythms and blooping bleeping effects, that slowcore sometimes sounding almost like a blackened doom metal, before returning to their glacial downtuned pound, impossibly slow crawls through near static metal riffage, and squalls of drum splatter, and a howled guttural voice that sounds like it's gargling glass and spitting blood, the whole band a lumbering beast, lurching from chord to chord, note to note, occasionally pausing to rest beneath the glimmering starlight, before rising again to continue on its path of utter destruction.
Heavy, fucked up, freaked out, distorted and brutal, space-y and sometimes sorta pretty, bet these guys destroy live, but for now this chunk of filthy heaviness and sludgey crush will do just fine.
A new issue -- the second ever -- of one of our favorite local magazines, the eclectic and unusual Proof, published and edited by dapper AQ-customer Neil Martinson. Proof #1 came out a few years ago, and we've been waiting patiently since then, never faltering in our belief that one day we'd be seeing more proof of Proof's unique perspective in the world of 'zinedom.
Proof is a journal of arts and culture -- sometimes quite obscure, but always interesting. I'd pretty much guarantee you'll learn something from reading an issue. You get your $5.95 worth, this sure isn't a throw-away zine. Yes, there's "pop-culture" content, stuff about movies and music. But even that's got quite an obscure slant -- a Caroliner interview, a piece on Plastikville Records, an autobiographical piece by editor Martinson deaing with Disney movies made by Patrick "The Prisoner" MacGoohan in the masked avenger role of Dr. Syn, the Scarecrow of Romney Marsh -- but also some deep philosophical discussions with the likes of Goethean scholar Dennis Klocek, deep thoughts about sheep and goats, an essay about the dadists' girlfriends, and much much more (including additional info about scarecrows as a sidebar to the Disney movie piece). Plus cartoons by Archer Prewitt and Bradley Johnson. It's a lot to take in, requiring a bit of an intellectual curiosity or at least a poetic spirit -- certainly qualities present in most, if not all Aquarius customers!
A haunting, damaged and enchanting new musical endeavor/state of mind from local soundstress Leyna Noel. Using primitive and crumbling electronics, distorted murky guitar and captivating vocals, Noel taps into a very fuzzy, buzzy, witchy and sonically rewarding state of sound. The opening track "Omni" is noisy and deliciously disturbing, roaming in a territory similar to early Pocahaunted and recent Inca Ore, although the true show stopper is the next track which is a completely breathtaking adaptation of Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come", here transformed into something that sounds both so modern yet timeless, spellbinding, hypnotic endearing. While her vocals are buried beneath many layers, the secret weapon and what really sets this apart from so many other like-minded warped/bedroom creations is that Leyna really does possess such an amazing and powerful voice, an instrument that she channels into a truly dense and tripped out atmosphere. Just under 15 minutes of music but a totally great introduction to what is no doubt just the beginning of what will be a long journey for Psychic Reality. Imagine what could happen if Grouper, Kuupuu and The Skaters joined forces and begin to get a glimpse into the exciting otherworld that Psychic Reality inhabits.
There is also a new Psychic Reality cassette that we have in called Real/Chic that we hope to list next time but they might not last long so might be smart and grab one of those now as well.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Not sure how we managed to miss these guys up until now. They're from right here in SF, and this is their third full length (we've heard exactly ONE of their 7"s), they totally kill, and they have maybe the fiercest female vocalist we've ever heard. All this talk about Perfect Pussy, fuck that, Meghan from Punch might have the greatest punk rock voice we've heard in forever, a serious paint peeling caterwaul, and the band back her up with a potent mix of classic hardcore, old school punk rock, furious grind and some seriously metallic heft. A relentless chaotic frenzy that occasionally slips into straight forward punk rock pound, but just as often explodes into grinding metallic fury that is seriously some of the fiercest and most furious shit EVER. The production by Jack Shirley (Deafheaven, Joyce Manor, Whirr, etc.) only makes it that much meaner and HUGE sounding. It's 15 songs in about 18 minutes, the longest is 2:33, the shortest (the title track) a mere :05, but every track, even that brief sonic blip totally destroys, and the crazy thing, is it's catchy as fuck, with super melodic basslines, some seriously killer riffs, and some goddamn great songs. And when they slow it down, it's SO heavy, which is only further magnified when they explode into a part as fast and furious as the previous part was slow. Holy shit. We're gonna make it a point to track down all the other Punch records, and not miss a single show, cuz as good as these songs sound on record, we can only imagine how brutal and badass this stuff sounds live.
What kind of an album would feature on its back cover a still from "The Big Lebowski" with Jeff Bridges, Steve Buscemi, and John Goodman sitting at a bar in a bowling alley -- all wearing black metal corpse paint??!? And feature music that kinda actually *sounds* like that picture might sound?? One by the notorious Steven Schultz (of The History Of Vats, Stalin Claus Superstar!, Busuchan, and I Forgot To Get A Rap Name! infamy) and fellow musical mastermind/masturbator Jason Kocol, of course! "No One Will Ever Understand Our Genious" is a more than apt album title for this duo's output. Genious [sic] put to questionable use. Embarrassing but stoopid funny music nerd indulgence, with the boys' sick chops in metal, jazz, dance music and whatever else they choose to abuse making the likes of Mr. Bungle and Estradasphere and Frank Zappa seem like mere puppies next to these Puny Humans. A silly genre-shift every 1.5 seconds or so, with blasting metal giving way to kazoo blues interrupted by circus music then back to the metal but with tinkling bells and sampled interjections from Flava Flav and house beats and skits and the quiet storm etc. etc. etc. Good grief! The mind reels, the throat chortles. This is really over the top. There's skits (y'know, the producers talking like on a rap record) and they even stoop so low as to sample the Benny Hill Theme at one point. Yes, the dumb humor driving this is SO dumb and relentless that it might even be brilliant. I mean, can you argue with songs that actually live up to song titles like "Deicide At Their Mom's House", "Sweep-Picking The Flugelhorns", and "Wouldja Look At The Ass On That Mummy?". Nope, or at least you wouldn't want to waste your time. Of course, without the dumb humor this mighta been the best ridiculous meta-metal ever, like if they were Japanese or something and we didn't "get" the jokes. But with the humor, it still shows Mr. Bungle where to get off. We really can't help but like it despite ourselves. Trying too hard to be insane -- and succeeding!!
MPEG Download: "Thorax, Ho!" [/audio/punythorax.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Thorax, Ho!" [/audio/punythorax.m3u]
We're pretty sure that Drucifer (Aq pal, turntablist DIe Elektrischen, head of Dielectric records, etc.) named his new band, a laptop duo with Dielectric labelmate Carson Day, ahem... Pussyfinger, just so we'd have to keep saying it out loud, inevitably causing the speaker, and the speakee, to either wince or giggle or both. It's been a running joke around the shop. "Hey did we get more of that new Dielectric record, you know, the one with Drucifer and Carson...you know... um..." We've come to embrace the name now. Pussyfinger. See? PUSSYFINGER! So besides the provocative monicker, what's all the fuss about? Well, Pussyfinger is the scientific laptop duo of Drew Webster aka Drucifer (see above) and Carson Day, who have melded their individual approaches to music and the laptop in particular and come up with something skittery and electronic enough to keep Boards Of Canada fans in a tizzy, but fucked up enough to keep em seriously confused. Pussyfinger's sound is an organic clatter, it IS glitchy laptronica, but it's arranged and presented like songs, you know like real songs. The elements are distinctly organic, but chopped and sliced and diced in a totally inorganic way. Strings resonate and buzz, but are processed into weird ambient smears of sound. Vocals are all over the place, but they are so fucked with they end up sounding like just another random sound element. The core sound is still electronica, IDM even, there is an Autechre streak a mile wide running through Chew And Swallow, and that's definitely not a bad thing. Things do get noisy at times, thick washes of digital feedback and some full on harsh noise, but there are also some truly lovely moments of tranquil ambience that sort of balance the equation. Ultimately it's the skittery shuffle that is the framework for Pussyfinger's electronic world, think BoC, Autechre, a little Aphex, a bit of Chris Clark, Pussyfinger would not be at all out of place on Warp, but they would definitely bring a bit of black humor and some serious sonic dissent along with them.
Beautifully packaged, with truly horrific, but somehow strangely striking cover art, the perfect complement to Pussyfinger's oh so problematic sobriquet!
Hot on the heels of German label Disko B's release of Otherworldly, the first lp in 35 years from the incredible cosmic Afro-jazz-funk ensemble The Pyramids, comes this, a triple cd box set containing all three of The Pyramids original '70s albums - King Of Kings, Lalibela, and Birth/Speed/Merging. All are fantastic! Birth/Speed/Merging is the only one to have previously been released on cd, back in 2006 by Japan's EM Records, who can take credit for turning us on to the music of The Pyramids and their bandleader, Idris Acakamoor - a great guy who turns out to be a neighbor of ours here in San Francisco! We've reviewed each album separately in the past, as the other two, while never on cd, were eventually reissued on vinyl. So, here's what we wrote (a lot!) about each album, in chronological order:
Lalibela from 1973 was the first recording by this previously little known spiritually tribal free jazz unit, The Pyramids. Originally formed in Europe by students from Antioch College, The Pyramids were based in Yellow Springs, Ohio, before moving to Oakland, California around 1975. The Pyramids were led by Irdris on saxophone and his then wife Margo on flute and piccolo, backed by four other musicians using an arsenal of African tribal instruments such as clay and talking drums, Ugandan harp, bailofone, and masenqo.
That presence of ethnic instrumentation makes itself felt right away. The nearly thirty minute title track (comprising a side and a half of the original lp) begins with some raucous Morroccan-style funk rhythm with horns and piccolos swirling over the top before some soft chanting and Ackamoor's sax lay down the key melodic figure. Then everything sets in at once, hectic sax skronk, the percussive rhythms undulating at times claustrophobic and intense filling the space then gradually separating, becoming airier, sparse and placid before laying down a more martial rhythm that once again collides into a cascade of bamboo flutes and chants, and cymbal washes that becomes a serene idyllic pool of intense calm.
The second track,"Indigo" is more lyrical, though it begins with some powerfully heavy drum fills, with lilting flute, melodic sax laying on top of lurching bass rhythm and percussion. The vibe is more majestic and pulsating then "Lalibela", with a lone shaker being the wildcard instrument for a bit as slow dramatic drums build, offset by metallic bowls and noises before the wooly skronk of the horns and woodwinds sets in and all the players ride that manic torrent before finally settling into a more subdued ending of call and response between Margo's flute and Idris's saxophone. It's that intuitive dynamic between the players, how they stay afloat through recurring periods of noise and calm that make listening to The Pyramids such an enjoyable and worthy experience!
Then, released in 1974, came King Of Kings, which opens with "Mogho Naba", featuring some mantra-like chanting over a frenetic groove straight out of something on one of the Ethiopiques comps while the lead flute and saxophone played by husband and wife leaders Idris and Margo Ackamoor duel it out in a sort of ritualized frenzy, the saxophone becoming more smeary and free, ending with the reemergence of different kind of flutes playing around the same tone like a busted calliope, before that riff comes back and takes us out to the next track, "Queen of the Spirits". Leading with a beautiful lilting flute melody that gains energy and dynamics with lots of ethnic percussion. But being about the Queen, this is Margo's track with the sax kept at bay except for some key transition moments, merging into a Brazilian carnival percussive breakdown and ending with beautiful languid flute and Ethiopian harps.
Side Two has the record's shortest and longest tracks. The first one is the 18 minute "Nsorama (The Stars)" that leads with Margo's intoning the word over a piano and a soft percussive riff, sounding like a more tribal version of a Doug Carn or Alice Coltrane track full of brooding majesty as the horns and flutes come in all plaintive and slow that keep this pace for awhile before the flutes let loose over the calm, but the frenzy on this track is minimal, in fact it becomes really minimal in parts with just a sole percussive rhythm taking the space for a few minutes before the key elements slowly reemerge. Definitely, one of their loveliest tracks! The final number, "My Africa" is more call and response mystical chanting over a repetitive piano and bass riff. This is the most vocal-centric track and in its listing of African homelands suggests a settling peace as it fades out. Such a beautiful record!!
Finally, their third album (and the first we heard), 1976's Birth/Speed/Merging is definitely one of the most amazing rediscovered free jazz gems we've ever come across. And it's not just free jazz, all wild swirl and skronk. Instead it's an exotic blend of Don Cherry's Orient, Funkadelic's Maggot Brain, some Art Ensemble Of Chicago, with wild Eastern sounding tribal rhythms, shuffling jazzy post bop, fluttering flutes and skronking horns, chanted vocals, droning buzzing ragas, seventies psychedelic free folk, propulsive krautfunk jams, some totally chaotic free jazz here and there, octopoidal drumming and wild shrieking sax, haunting percussive soundscapes, replete with strange creaks and whistles, and then before you know it transforming before your ears into what sounds like traditional African music with warm muted thumb piano melodies, chanted harmonies, bird calls, and sweetly melodic flute, rollicking bass heavy grooves under wild hand drums and carnivalesquee noisemaking. The final track, the 16 minute long "Black Man And Woman Of The Nile", is a mellow slow burning groove, with a throbbing bass riff, warm rich sax runs, shuffling percussion, the whole thing a laidback, sun drenched, barefoot funkjazz jam, warm and dreamy and hypnotic, with a short break in the middle for a brief skronky freakout, and then straight back into it, eventually drifting off into abstract ambience, softly moaning horns, dreamy melodies and barely there percussive chatter. Awesome!
These three albums, on 3 remastered cds, come in a handsome little box, with a 44 page booklet. And, on one of the discs you'll find a video for your computer, of The Pyramids live on San Francisco's KQED TV, from 1975!
Some years back, in 2006, the Japanese label EM - one of the most eccentric reissue specialists in the world, and just about our favorite - introduced us to the works of a mysterious, long lost '70s cosmic jazz ensemble called Pyramids (not to be confused with the post-rock/black metal act of the same name). They reissued The Pyramids' 1976 record Birth/Speed/Merging on cd, then a double-cd anthology of music by Pyramids bandleader, saxophonist Idris Ackamoor, including more Pyramids material, some of it previously unreleased. We were pretty taken with Ackamoor & Pyramids, calling 'em "amazing, and revolutionary and so brilliantly far out", and comparing 'em to such current underground ensembles as the No Neck Blues Band and Avarus, among others. Birth/Speed/Merging we said was an "amazing slice of majestic tribal funk free jazz" that made references to both Egypt and Jamaica, and the same goes for their other records too.
Then, a little later, the Ikef label reissued all three of The Pyramids' rare albums on vinyl - the ones which we just got back in stock, and relisted a few weeks ago, you may recall. We relisted 'em because none other than Idris Ackamoor himself happens to live here in SF, in our neighborhood in fact, and he brought copies by! As always, we were happy to see him, and happier still when he told us the news that Pyramids had recently reunited with several of the original members, and had recorded a new album, their first in the 35 years since Birth/Speed/Merging - that's this, now out on the German label Disko B. Recorded at Faust Studio - that's right, the studio run by Hans Joachim Irmler of krautrockers Faust, in Scheer, Germany - it maintains and expands the Pyramids' spiritual, ethnic, cosmic, funky '70s jazz vibe perfectly. Otherworldly (so aptly titled) still holds echoes of their contemporaries the Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Sun Ra's Arkestra, Alice Coltrane, Don Cherry, Pharoah Sanders, etc. It's Afro-centric, with some further Far Eastern inflections... Universal sounds, universal consciousness. Both free and freaky but also totally soulful and gentle and groovy too. Definitely worthy of The Pyramids' now much less obscure legacy. The ancient/modern, multicultural connection Pyramids make is quite evident, resonating on tracks "Reincarnation" (which relates the royal drummers of Mali to kids dancing in the streets of New Orleans) and of course "Ancient Funk!". Tracks that find mantric group chant and masterful hand percussion alongside lovely whistling reeds and echoing electronics, both electric and acoustic bass parts intertwined, and plenty of other "otherworldly" sounds.
Now we're really looking forward to seeing 'em live, as Idris told us they'd be playing shows soon, here in San Francisco as well as over in Europe (where they got their start, in France back in '72). In fact, he just dropped off some flyers, The Pyramids are playing 3 nights, November 1st-3rd, at the Buriel Clay Theater on Fulton!
Compact disc version packaged in a nice gatefold sleeve with large fold out insert of lyrics and color photos. The vinyl is similarly presented.
Got us a kick ass split here, bringing together a band we had yet to hear (and can barely pronounce), Pyrifleyethon, and aQ faves Ophidian Forest (counting the man behind tUMULt's Botanist as a member!).
First up is Pyrifleyethon, hailing from Greece. We're told pretty much everything we need to know within the intro "Ignipotence", where guitar fuzz takes on the sound of a portal opening up into hell before launching into full on blasts of black metal fury with "Powers of The Second Sphere". Our favorite track from this horde is "Underneath", where the band expertly utilizes melancholy melodies with croaking troll vokills and machine gun riffery with all kinds of queasy runs up the fretboard. The final song, the perfectly named "Hades Landscape" begins with a spooky guitar melody and rides it for a good 5 minutes as a midtempo dirge before shifting gears and launching into full on black metal insanity.
Pretty bad ass stuff from Pyrifleyethon, but Ophidian Forest have no difficulty in staking out their own crazy identity on this split. OF's previous albums, which we gobbled up like crazy, gave us a roadmap for where things *might* go, but goddamn if this band hasn't upped the ante for totally confusional, totally fucked black metal mayhem. Given the band's international makeup and method of creating albums via file swapping, we wonder how these three manage to produce stuff this bizarre while still sounding completely together and musical. No doubt the most immediate reaction is to the keyboards, which almost sound like a jazzy organ at times. In terms of how they are worked into the mix, think maybe of Beherit's Drawing Down The Moon. The songs have a strange sepia-tone quality to them, and it sounds like they could be the soundtrack to some lost Jan Svankmeyer film. On "Never Wish To Sleep", the keyboards buzz about nefariously like a poison fog while the vocals sound like something creeping out of an underground bunker. The song is weird and hallucinatory with a cool end of the world vibe that we can definitely get behind. "The Tower" makes great use of the aforementioned "jazzy" keyboards, thrown in with guttural riffs and uber metal drumming. The song is almost proggy at times, like something Van Der Graf Generator might have made if they were a three strangers from disparate parts of the globe instead of a bunch of old English nutters. Ending with "Paladin Of The Blackest Heart", OF conjures elements of industrial sci-fi craziness and even hints of folk (we think anyway) while still sounding like... well, only themselves. Quite a feat, and highly recommended!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Features that legendary tear-up of Rush's "Tom Sawyer" before Z-Trip or Mix Master Mike ever got a hold of it. Includes bonus cuts with DJ Disk and Shortkut. This is a Japanese compact disc pressing of the rare samenamed cassette issued by the Piklz.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
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The first proper album from the mad scientist of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz is "a trans-galactic deconstructed symphony of head-wringing turntablist godliness with booty-bruisin' beats communicated via microcosmic creatures hidden deep within the grooves. Layered in vinyl generated sound collages, samples, and of course Q-Bert's unequaled skratch style, it's an orgasmically dental fresh hip-hop sound explosion of the first order!"
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
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"In Turntable TV 5.0, take a journey to the north with Yoga Frog and Q-Bert to the cold lands of Canada. Take a sneak peek at a behind-the-scenes look at the pre-DMC practice sessions with the Turnstyles crew and other Canadian DJs. Plus hear some cool interviews with all the DMC contestants as well. Watch ultra rare scratch sessions with Mix Master Mike, Q-Bert, Shortkut, and D-Styles. To top it off experience the deadly kung fu lessons by no other than the infamous toadman, with fight scenes of DJ Fat Blubber Belly."
His name doesn't appear anywhere on this record, but Qbert is da guy what compiled these breaks for your inner DJ. The sleeve is pretty brilliant too, it folds into a popcorn box! Perfect companion to your new Qbert how-to dvd that you bought last week!
Debut release from this local all girl garage pop combo. A killer mix of classic nineties style jangle pop and more frantic punk rock, reminiscent of classic Riot Grrl for sure, especially when the band bust out and get super rocking, the ultra distinctive vocals definitely harken back to Corin Tucker's more feral wail in the early days, the music, by turns super minimal and stripped down, jangly and melodic, furious and fuzzed out, complete with some almost Greg Ginn like angular guitar leads, check out the first two tracks to get a feel for the two sides of Quaaludes, the opener, "Blood On The Ice", sounds like some classic K Records releases from back in the day, broody, strummy verses giving way to stomping, fiery choruses, while "Call You Up" is a sweaty, snarly blast of raw girlpunk energy, beholden to classic punk rock, but filtered through the sound of current garage poppers. And so it goes, the group splitting their time between raw punk rock energy and almost dreamy poppiness, the best moments, when the two are crammed together into dizzyingly, and fantastically schizophrenic blasts of furious, wildly energetic jangle punk ("Mistake", "I Don't Care", "Stiff Little Single").
Fans of Heavens To Betsy, Huggy Bear, Bikini Kill, Bratmobile, will dig big time, and at times will feel like it's 1991 all over again, but folks who dig current outfits like Grass Widow, Brilliant Colors, Brave Irene, Super Wild Horses and the like should check this out too!
The kids love this energetic San Francisco trio, who have recently been seen touring about with Erase Errata and Sleater Kinney. And Sleater-Kinney comparisons, while sometimes arising out of a reviewer's lack of familiarity with a broad range of female oriented post punk sounds, are relevant here to describe The Quails girl-girl-boy vocal interchanges. At points, the heavily affected vocal stylings make us here put our hands over our collective ears, although "Atmosphere" is definitely not as ouch! as their testicle liberation opera "Bon Soir." If you do dig the vocals, or at least don't mind them, you'll have a great time getting down to their highly accessible, poppy take on the arty punk thang.
Who can resist feisty art punk with horns? If you can't, the first song on this album is for YOU! Made us eager for more, but unfortunately the trumpet only appears on that opening track. Dang! But the rest is pretty great nonetheless, packed with edgy female vocals (still drawing comparisons to Sleater-Kinney's Corin Tucker) occasionally coupled with more subdued male backing vocals, angular raw guitars that veer and twist as if teetering precariously on a cliff, and a driving firecracker drumbeat that seems considerably tighter than on previous releases. Actually the whole picture seems a lot more feverishly focussed (and a little less poppy) that their last full length, the well received Atmosphere+. Hmmm, a bill of The Quails coupled with Erase Errata and Sleater-Kinney would make for a damn fine show. Yeah, I know this has already happened -- these bands have toured together in the past. However on The Song Is Love, The Quails are bursting with an increased confidence and attitude that would surely add ample fuel to such a blistering fun evening of rock. Indeed The Quails seem to be the bridge between those two bands -- particularly in the aforementioned swooping grrrl vocals of S.K., the jagged postpunk dissonance of E.E., and the volatile energy of both. Right on!
Local trio featuring Jen Smith, Julianna Bright and Seth Lorinczi formerly of Circus Lupus (although *don't* take that to mean that if you liked the late great Circus Lupus, you'll neccesarily like The Quails). Herky jerky quirky pop with all members
This release from Rachel's and Matmos will undoubtedly warrant sufficient critical consternation / amazement / hate / love simply based on the unusual pairing of the two sets of musicians. Rachel's - the indierock answer to a chamber ensemble - present a shortened but reconstructed version of "Full on Night" originally found on their first album "Handwriting." This updated version dynamically rearranges the original such that it maintains its antiquited sound (delicate played piano with a reserved guitar angularity)... It's super sparse at first and mutates by the end of the track into something quite rockin', especially for the Rachel's.
San Francisco's electronica duo Matmos, by turn, apply a wealth of electronic trickery to the Rachel's sound. Scraped violin and a guitar din similar to the Moore / Ranaldo duets for guitars and screwdrivers emerge from a digidubscape that gets quite volatile by the end of Matmos' 18 minute excursion. While apparently not overly concerned with keeping the Rachel's material recognizable, Matmos mirrors the out-rock / chop-shop of Brise-Glace -- that project fronted by Jim O'Rourke many many moons back.
This is one of those records that the staff in the office is so confounded by that they have to run out to the front room to find out what's playing. I mean, you'd never guess.
When it comes to specific musical instruments it's definitely tough for us to be won over by the alto sax. It's an instrument that all too often employed by those who have no business using it (think Kenny G, bad '80s pop rock, etc.) It's questionable use has made it so that even in respected jazz we almost cringe at its use unless its by one of the very few sax masters. So we knew immediately that this record by Carnatic player Prasant Radhakrishnan was something very special when it began with the sounds of alto sax. Part of it was the fact that the sax was being played in a way we had never really heard the instrument used before. Radhakrishnan's ability to bring together the disciplines of Classical South Indian music with Jazz is something he does grace and style. Equally influenced by John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins as much as D.K. Jayaraman and his guru Kadri Gopalnath, Radhakrishnan essentially uses the Sax to play ragas while his group adds violin and traditional Carnatic percussion to round out the sound. Now living right here in San Francisco, Radhakrishnan has found a perfect place to share his transcendent sounds with lots of open minds and ears.
Though we sold out pretty quick, some of you aQ-loyalists might remember a super killer cd-r we got awhile back from local guy Matt Erickson, otherwise known as Radiant Husk. Aside from also playing in the free-psych noise duo Sudden Oak, which is equally as awesome (although most of their releases are now out of print), Erickson has been busy conjuring a fantastic offering of ritual saxophone sorcery. In relatively the same vein as Terry Riley's alto sax work in the seventies, Beyond An Endless Swale explores the more damaged, far reaching capabilities of the sax. And despite any reservation you might have about the sax, take it from us, there ain't nothing smooth or soft about Radiant Husk. Beyond An Endless Swale will lure you to the twisted outlands of grey shorelines where distant foghorns coax you into hypnosis, improvised melodies hover above richly layered drones and singing overtones, reverbed sax riffs lull into the dreamy horizon. An endless journey exploring all kind of sonic territory, at times Erickson pushes his sax on the verge of fiery collapse, piling dense layers of blistering noise and feedback, bird-like squeaks and wails, only to let it all melt away into the soft-droning sky. All housed in hand made tape inserts assembled in a very limited quantity, this cassette is a gem and should really not be missed!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Holy shit, 30 seconds into this mysteriously packaged cd-r from SF's own M. Erickson and we're totally sucked into his hypnotic world of saxophone, synths and other various droning devices. Long tones enveloping and luring us through the darkened doors of a stone temple, beams of light pouring from an ominous orb that hangs above its dreary entrance. Mystical, entrancing and all-the-while darkly sinister. Dreary loops that move in a rhythmic march while trembling vocals ring out from the bowels of an empty cave. If Terry Riley ever spent a year alone in the deep dark woods of Norway, the final product might sound similar to this. Forested alchemic nightmare-ish minimalism, perfect for fans of Bonecloud, Ghosting or even Expo 70. But be forewarned, you WILL be left wanting more, as this limited cd-r from Bezoar barely even lasts thirty minutes. Short, sweet and to the point, highly recommended and a must have for all those who bow at the gates of the mystic minimalism temple.
Radius is the new collaboration between Mr. Mark Edwards and Mr. Jeff Ray (also of SF band Zmrzlina and one of the main organizers of the Mission Creek Music Festival). This cd-r features nine pretty acoustic folk songs laced with some very subtle electronics. Quite akin to N. Lannon... actually we put this on right after playing Lannon's Chemical Friends album and they fit together almost seamlessly. Very nice!
SF's Ral Partha Vogelbacher unleash their boyish indie rock charms right from the get go on this their third album. Mainman Chad Bidwell sings his deeply personal lyrics in the drollest fashion that reminded us of cross between AQ faves Casiotone For The Painfully Alone's Owen Ashworth and Stephin Merritt of Magnetic Fields. The musical backdrop (provided by local pals Thee More Shallows and a guest appearance from Odd Nosdam on the track "New Happy Fawn") though is unlike that of either of those artists. As far as we can tell despite the album's title Shrill Falcons, neither piercing sounds nor feathered friends can be found anywhere. What it is filled with is very slouchy yet perky distorted jangly guitars, hazy droning keyboards and infectious hummable melodies. Another reason to get that fuzzy well-worn cardigan out of storage!
Psst, the band enlisted the fine seamstress skills of AQ's very own Pam to stitch a flag version of the album's cover art.
We'd been hearing about this record for ages, the guys in the Ovens and Violent Change constantly asking us if we'd heard these guys, and of course we HADN'T, cuz it seemed to be another one of those local SF underground post punk records that surfaced briefly and then disappeared, much like those Sopors records we were finally able to track down. But thankfully, this angular post punk / noise pop gem was rescued from obscurity from the fine folks at Blast First, and while we were a bit surprised that some weird super obscure band nobody had ever heard of would merit a big label reissue, once we finally got our ears on this stuff it was easy to see why, and then had us wondering how the hell this had slipped under the radar, and how had we missed these guys completely? Hell, they even did a split with aQ faves Grass Widow that flew right by us apparently.
Well it doesn't really matter now. What really matters now is that you all don't miss out this time around, cuz holy shit is this stuff killer. Dark, brooding, angular, crunchy and fuzzy, moody and broody but bristly and kinetic, catchy as fuck, but also raw and tense and urgent exactly the kind of stuff folks into Iceage and similarly hyped new post punk combos should be flipping their shit over. And thankfully will now have the chance. Noisy and intense, swaggery and frenetic, the guitars sharp and crunchy, swirling into wild squalls as often as locking into crunchy riffage or unleashing shards of gnarled noise, the drums and bass locked into tightly wound grooves, loping lazily one second, driving and punk as fuck the next, the vocals a snotty snarly feral yowl, nervous jittery energy harnessed into jangle pop shapes but run through with Wire-y slivers of melody, as good as we had hoped and then some!
Local underground rapper's long-awaited full length with guest appearances by Dilated Peoples, DJ Babu of the Beat Junkies turntablists, etc. Produced and released by the Peanut Butter Wolf.
Finally, the second and final (?) installment in the epic musical/fictional world that is Ray's Vast Basement. Smoke-y and murky song-stories following the life and times of the residents of Drakeville. Dreamy and surreal, By A River Burning Blue is equal parts Tom Waits, Sparklehorse, classic Nebraska-era Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Butch Hancock, Dire Straits, etc. Slow melancholy classic sounding rock songs, lushly produced, intimate and hushed. Sweet and lovely. For those new to RVB, the songs all chronicle the 100,000,000-year history of Ray's Basement, a fictional cave in the town of Drakesville about which all the songs are written. The complete set is also now available with the debut cd, the new cd as well as a songbook and set of beautifully printed cards.
One of the most refreshing listens we've heard in a long long while, Ray's Vast Basement is a collection of perfectly-crafted, honest-to-gosh SONGS written in the tradition of gravelly-voiced observers-of-life such as John Prine, Bob Dylan, and especially Butch Hancock, one of the four founding members of Austin's legendary Flatlanders (who also spawned Joe Ely and Jimmie Dale Gilmore). Oh, and Andee thinks they sound a little like the Dire Straits. "On the Banks of Time" is a fully formed aesthetic triumph.
PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS REGULAR VERSION OF THIS CD, WITHOUT THE ADDED EXTRAS: LYRIC BOOKLET, TIMELINE CARDS ETC. WE CAN GET THE DELUXE VERSION FOR YOU. THE COST IS $25.The lyric booklet and stunningly executed, heartbreakingly poignant series of 60 cards detailing the 100,000,000-year history of Ray's Basement, the fictional cave in the town about which all the songs are written (which were included with the original pressing) are now available for purchase at the band's website.
One of the most refreshing listens we've heard in a long long while, Ray's Vast Basement is a collection of perfectly-crafted, honest-to-gosh SONGS written in the tradition of gravelly-voiced observers-of-life such as John Prine, Bob Dylan, and especially Butch Hancock, one of the four founding members of Austin's legendary Flatlanders (who also spawned Joe Ely and Jimmie Dale Gilmore). Oh, and Andee thinks they sound a little like the Dire Straits. "On the Banks of Time" is a fully formed aesthetic triumph.
The lyric booklet and stunningly executed, heartbreakingly poignant series of 60 cards detailing the 100,000,000-year history of Ray's Basement, the fictional cave in the town about which all the songs are written (which were included with the original pressing) are available in this deluxe version.
PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS THE DELUXE VERSION OF THIS CD, WITH ALL THE ADDED EXTRAS: LYRIC BOOKLET, TIMELINE CARDS ETC. WE CAN GET THE REGULAR VERSION FOR YOU, TOO. THE COST IS $12.98.
Have the usually completely d.i.y. folks Ray's Vast Basement thrown open their secret subterranean workshop to welcome other like-minded burgeoning music makin' folks? Sure seems so, and the results are nothing short of wonderful. The RBV sound is so burnished, earthy and rustic that if they do indeed have a basement, then we'd imagine it's nestled amid the roots of a great redwood instead of beneath a building somewhere here in the city. Their new album comes to us by way of young Bay Area indie label Howell's Transmitter which is home to the likes of Michael Zapruder's Rain Of Frogs, Modular Set and Black Fiction. It's a perfect fit. The music on Starvation Under Orange Trees grew forth from a soundtrack composed by band leader Jon Bernson for the Actors Theatre Of San Francisco. Each song is inspired by one of the literary works of John Steinbeck -- Of Mice And Men, Grapes Of Wrath, Cannery Row, East Of Eden, and Tortilla Flats. All are infused with an overcast gravity befitting Steinbeck's pervading themes of common man hardships. Bernson is joined by guests Tim Cohen (Black Fiction), Sean Coleman (Kelley Stoltz), Larry Crane (Tape Op Magazine), Enzo Garcia (Jolie Holland), Matt Greenberg (Charles Atlas), Nate Query (The Decemberists), and Michael Zapruder (Michael Zapruder's Rain Of Frogs). Together they strike a balance between their old intimate, crafty charms and some newer, more ambitious compositions. Recommended!
This is it! The complete Drakesville mythology. Those of you who have the first Ray's Vast Basement album know just what we're talking about. For those of you who don't, the Mythology of Drakesville has been in the works for nine years, an interwoven, fictional culture of music, stories, history and imagery, all revolving around an imagined cave called Ray's Vast Basement and the eccentric residents of the northern California town of Drakesville. The story is told via the two RVB cds as well as a gorgeously printed songbook and set of cards. Here's what we had to say about the first RVB album:
One of the most refreshing listens we've heard in a long long while, Ray's Vast Basement is a collection of perfectly-crafted, honest-to-gosh SONGS written in the tradition of gravelly-voiced observers-of-life such as John Prine, Bob Dylan, and especially Butch Hancock, one of the four founding members of Austin's legendary Flatlanders (who also spawned Joe Ely and Jimmie Dale Gilmore). Oh, and Andee thinks they sound a little like the Dire Straits. "On the Banks of Time" is a fully formed aesthetic triumph. There's also a lyric booklet and stunningly executed, heartbreakingly poignant series of 60 cards detailing the 100,000,000-year history of Ray's Basement, the fictional cave in the town about which all the songs are written.
And elsewhere on this list you'll find the review of the second album and final piece of the Drakesville story:
Finally, the second and final (?) installment in the epic musical/fictional world that is Ray's Vast Basement. Smoke-y and murky song-stories following the life and times of the residents of Drakeville. Dreamy and surreal, By A River Burning Blue is equal parts Tom Waits, Sparklehorse, classic Nebraska-era Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Butch Hancock, Dire Straits, etc. Slow melancholy classic sounding rock songs, lushly produced, intimate and hushed. Sweet and lovely. For those new to RVB, the songs all chronicle the 100,000,000-year history of Ray's Basement, a fictional cave in the town of Drakesville about which all the songs are written.
This set includes both cds, the songbook and the printed cards. So cool!
Why? and Odd Nosdam from Anticon/Mush mainstays cLOUDEAD and Greenthink demonstrate that they do nothing but record 24 hours a day by releasing their 500th record under as many different names. And again cries of quality control are quashed by just how fucking great EVERYTHING they do is! Reaching Quiet is sort of more song based, with totally tweaked (but amazingly creative) production, bizarre samples, low-fi beats, hammond organs, -and- the kitchen sink all crafted into demented little pop song/hip hop tidbits with lots of strange vocalising, rapping, spoken word, melodic warbling and flat out wailing. Sometimes haunting and otherworldy, sometimes dark and dreary sometimes goofy and silly, but always really, really good.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Hand painted, 30 minutes, lo-fi, member of Sword and Sandals.
