Fern Knight is not a person's name as we initially thought, it is the moniker for this duo from Rhode Island whose hushed folk pop songs take a number of haunting instrumental twists, turns and detours into atmospheric soundscapes. Heavily reverbed and tremoloed guitars are interwoven with strummed and plucked acoustic guitar as deep somber strings and an occasional accordion wind their way around the unmistakable warm sound of a Fender Rhodes keyboard. So heart-baringly bittersweet and intimate, much like a cross between Julie Doiron and Mirah. Absolutely lovely!
Anyone who scours thriftshops regularly for records will surely be familiar with the names Ferrante and Teicher. World-renowned pop-classicists and dueling pianists from the fifties to the seventies, they're often squarely associated with the Lawrence Welk and Liberace markets our grandparents dallied in. While their recorded output easily tripled the most prolific artist you can imagine, their legacy has pretty much resulted in stacks and stacks of the kind of unwanted records that make crate digging an oft-frustrating chore.
But not everything they did was so square. In the early fifties at the dawn of the hi-fi age, they were among the first composers to take John Cage's prepared piano experiments (a method of altering piano tones by wedging various objects between the strings and hammers) and apply them toward orchestrated melodies. By doing so, and then running the sounds through state-of-the-art, multi-channeled stereophonic recording equipment of the time they were able to create an illusion of multiple instrument sounds such as tympanis, marimbas, xylophones, glockenspiels, and various percussion instruments, all from playing pianos. This reissue of Soundproof and its follow-up Soundblast is the result of such experiments. While this is hardly what we think of as experimental music, it sure does sound amazing. The kind of music you can imagine with Tex Avery cartoons on the moon, or in some space lounge on Venus. Some songs sound like the far-out Afro-Cuban rhythms of Esquivel, other songs have a more impressionistic underwater quality, while others have a more Joe Meek sci-fi surfy vibe. Some tracks experiment with reverse piano and early echo effects. In fact, to create the echo effect, in a time without easy echo electronics, they wired the sound from the piano down to a tiled bathroom a floor below, and placed microphones looped to a delay outside the bathroom door. Out of the two records, Soundproof is more experimental and playful while Soundblast relies on more Latin compositional formulas albeit ones you might hear in danceclubs on Mars. If you come across these Ferrante and Teicher albums in your crate digging adventures, don't dismiss.
Don't be confused, it may look the same, but in fact, it's the second of two lp reissues from James Ferraro, one half of floor core legends the Skaters. We reviewed his Clear lp on our last list, this time it's Discovery, almost the exact same cover, the alien pyramids floating in some strange sea, only the name of the record is different (and don't trust the sticker, on about half of the lps we got the stickers were all switched up), although really it barely matters, as the sounds on Discovery, sound very much like the ones on Clear, which make sense as they are archival recordings from about the same time period.
Two side long jams, exploring that alien new age only those Skaters guys seem capable of, this one sounds like two parts of the same jam, equal parts new age swoosh, staticky old AM radio and alien soap opera theme music, all blurred and smeared into a weirdly organic warped and warbly drift. Bleary and blown out, glistening and glimmery, a buried krautrock groove, that seems to fade out and return at random, all imbued with a cool psychedelic eighties B-movie Goblin vibe.
The flipside is more of the same, only a bit more rocking, more feedback and distortion, but just barely, the guitars a tad more noodly and spidery, but all the sounds still washed out and sun dappled and hypnotic. Like Clear before it, Discovery is a fantastic chunk of blissed out Baywatch new age, and here's hoping Holy Mountain keeps digging up and reissuing these tripped out artifacts.
Comes with a download card too, so you can get iPod-able versions of these tracks as well!!
When beloved noise duo The Skaters broke up, the two partners went in drastically different directions sonically, with Spencer Clark taking his Monopoly Child Searchers in a more hazy, tribal, washed out direction, which wasn't really all that removed from the Skaters' sound, at its loveliest, at least. And James Ferraro going off the musical deep end, transforming into some sort of bizarro avant pop songsmith, his last record Night Dolls With Hairspray, exactly what the title might have you expecting, a tripped out, lysergic collection of tweaked lo-fi glam rock weirdness, which managed to be totally baffling, but pretty much totally irresistible at the same time. And while we were expecting more of the same on Farsidevirtual, Ferraro once again has mixed things up and managed to come up with something even MORE ridiculous, and again, a glorious car crash of a record, channeling the cheesiest parts of eighties music, sure he was sort of doing that before, but now it's like new age mixed with the sort of upbeat music that would accompany one of those workplace educational films, all swirly synths, programmed rhythms, weirdly funky grooves, all rendered in shades of super shiny, super well produced, gleaming ultra produced electro rock. Or something.
The opener "Linden Dollars" sounds like Shadowfax covering the theme from Peanuts, but given a little 21st century new age makeover. Then there's "Global Lunch" which just baffles all the way through, super cheesy synths, a woman asking if you want something or other beamed directly to your "I-Tablet", with faux strings, tinkling chimes, a melody played using those weird voice presets on synthesizers, then a solo played on a fake sitar, or the sitar setting on a synth, while male vox are clipped and sent stuttering off into the distance, and then finally the song builds to a crazy climax with a wild sax solo, and some fuzzy electronic bass, it's literally some of the craziest shit we've ever heard. The whole record sounds like library music from 1985, composed and recorded for infomercials, straight to video rom-coms, and third tier sporting events, and if that seems like we're bagging on it, we're totally not, we're just baffled by how someone could even conceive of making music like this in the 21st century, how they would make these sounds, and why the hell we can't stop listening to it.
Packaged in the usual garishly futuristic sleeve, with thick printed cardstock insert and a download coupon too!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Loud, disjointed and full of youthful rage and angst. This is raw, noisy, twisted music constantly on the verge of combustion. On the super cool San Diego-based record label run by The Locust's Justin Pearson.
Fetish 69. The name says everything, right? Well, perhaps not on this double CD of remixes and collaborations. With a name as bad as Fetish 69 (implying some horrid diva-house disaster or worse a My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult sex-horror-shock industrial
Yeah, the band is called Fetus Eaters. And their particular brand of metallic grind is called vomitcore, which for a particular strain of weirdo music obsessives, is pretty much all it should take to get you interested in these musical misanthropes. And for those who might be put off, well, odds are this is not your cup of black bloody fetus laced tea. But for the rest of you, this is some primo grind-metal heaviness, replete with furious blast beats, wild shredding guitars, insectoid riffing, twisted effects heavy vocals, lots of warped production and processing, and yeah of course plenty of weird samples. Full length number five finds the band slightly more polished, but really only slightly, it's still raw and blown out, punk as fuck, super noisy, and downright psychedelic at times, most of the songs clocking in around the minute mark, which is more than enough to cram in loads of tangled shreddery and blasting headbanging crunch, with the occasional foray into lumbering doominess, face melting noise rock, and grim black buzz, but really, FE are grinders at heart, and a quick listen to "Fetal Sushi Delight" or "Embryonic Chow" of "I'll Snap Your Spine" makes that pretty clear. Not sure why we never listed anything by these guys before, cuz we're digging this big time. Anyone into the various strains of grind, from old school grind, to grinding death metal, to gore grind, to just flat out WTF grind weirdness, might find themselves surprisingly into 'vomitcore' all of a sudden, and fear not, we're right there with you.
Pressed on bloody red vinyl, includes a printed insert/lyric sheet/poster.
The second full length from Feu Therese, the Montreal group captained by Jonathan Parent (former guitarist for Fly Pan Am), continues along the dark mysterious path they explored on their 2006 self-titled debut, but it's not without stretches of levity. In fact, the album opens with an unexpected jaunty guitar and synth line and a charming gent singing in French. Far more melodically inclined than its predecessor and far less bleakly brooding, Ca Va Cogner draws much inspiration from classic kraut, prog and space rock with some tracks being quite reminiscent of vintage works by Richard Pinhas, Kraftwerk and Cluster. Layers of synthesizers and electric guitars sweep across the steady, pulse-like drum beats and occasional male utterances and croonings. Nice.
Yet another somber (mostly) instrumental ensemble from the Godspeed You Black Emperor collective! This new group's sound is distinguished by layers of rich tremoloed guitar, organ drones and jazz inflected horns. Their closest kin in that Montreal music community is easily the heady improv jam driven Fly Pan Am, and their sonic resemblance is no coincidence. Feu Therese is the project of FPA guitarist Jonathan Parant, and as with most every branch of the mighty GYBE tree, folks from the other groups join in. Their self titled debut is a brooding dedication to Luc Ferrari. Five stormy disparate tracks ranging from six to twelve minutes.
Tripped out, jazzy post rock from New York City: super varied and intersting; from droning Kraftwerkian electronica work outs to full bore free jazz freakouts to dirgey Slint rock instrumentals. On Rosewood Union, a British label that has become the new home for really cool and fucked up underground 'post rock.'
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 relative ease with which this German band outshines the post-rock-fanboy holy-grail trio Don Caballero (keeping in mind that we really like Don Cab), makes one wish that the general indie rock audience at large was harder to please. Then perhaps more bands would try to expand on the Don Cab sound instead of incessantly aping it, and more records would sound as jaw droppingly brilliant as this one. In place of Damon Che's non stop avalanche of 'Moby Dick'isms and DonCab's metal-in-post-rock's-clothing is a complex sonic tapestry of hypnotic drones and cyclical riffs. Feuhler take the droning single note repetition of Tony Conrad, the scraping stones of Loren Chasse, the heavy prog of Voivod, the dynamics of Slint, and the slowly evolving Reich-ish rock of Circle, and fashion a music at once emotive and heavy, intellectual and kick ass.
Fever Ray is the solo project for one Karin Dreijer Andersson, better known as half of the Swedish oddball electro-pop duo The Knife. Her voice, with all of the helium-tinged falsettos and pitch-shifted growlings, had always been one the most compelling aspects of The Knife. In that schizophrenia of multi-tracked voices and personalities, she sang duets with herself, adopting masculine roles in the downpitched vocals and her naturally pixie voice taking the feminine perspective, which she often affects in unnatural ways through harmonic phaseshifts and chorus effects. With the bouncing lurch of The Knife's rhythms, her tales took on seductively nightmarish proportions, with a grotesque witchiness and atypical Goth blackness which had much more Wolfgang Press to it than Siouxsie. So for her solo project, her voice with its inscrutable yet pansexual personalities finds itself even more central to the music.
This is certainly due to the more downbeat electronic arrangements that she produces on her debut album, which is wholly devoid of those awkward yet sleek big beat techno numbers which punctured The Knife's Silent Shout. Musically, she creates a plastic exoticism, which relates to no particular indigenous music but instead has been filtered from Martin Denny through Chris & Cosey to arrive here with fake bird sounds, canned congo drums and faux marimba vibes flitting amidst sweeps of digital synthesis and softened drum machine beats. It may be more low-key than The Knife, but Karin's still an oddly brilliant tweaker. There had been some rumors (you know, from the Internet) which raised questions as to if The Knife would be 'breaking up.' If that were indeed rooted in fact, Fever Ray should stand as a pretty great phoenix rising from those ashes.
A crushing double dose of extreme low end downtuned heaviness from these two UK heavyweights, up first, long time aQ faves Hey Colossus, who tackle an unlikely cover, Andre Williams' "Jailbait", and transform it into some seriously creepy crawly doom blues. A monstrous chugging plod underneath distorted mush mouthed rambling vocalizing, sounding much like a sludgier Oxbow, or maybe the Melvins covering King Snake Roost. As the track progresses, the vocals get more and more garbled, and the background chugs grow more and more intense, transforming from churning riffage into a blurred sheet of black buzz, undulating beneath the relentless pound and chug. AWESOME.
Field Boss, formerly known as Tractor (as they're credited on the 7" label) kick right back with some of their own low slung creep, all thick ropy bass, coruscating sheets of feedback, a sound that's equal parts old school AmRep crush and industrial pound, the song title "Headache" maybe referencing legendary noise rockers Big Black, which would make sense, cuz there's definitely that sort of vibe about this. The track slowly unfolds into keening slo-mo super distorted guitar leads that tangle and become more and more atonal, draped in layers over the churning sonic sludge, until finally, the song explodes into a final tangle of grinding blasting punkish crush, pelted with swirling clouds of hissing distorted static. So good.
Some essential heaviness for sure, and gorgeously packaged in a super swank silk screened black on metallic silver, cardstock 6 panel fold out sleeve, LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!
We've been loving the sweet, lush and lilting sounds of the Trembling Blue Stars for ages now, but we had no idea until recently that TBS frontman Bobby Wratton was also responsible for the genius twee pop of the Field Mice. From 1989 to 1991,the Field Mice were the jewel in the legendary Sarah Records' pop crown, making three records and a handful of singles, of some of the most gorgeously effervescent indie jangle pop ever. Super twee and fey, dreamy and drifty, with crystalline fingerpicked guitar, moody melancholy melodies, over shuffling electronic beats, simple acoustic drumming, wandering basslines, otherworldly female vocals, loads of precious indie jangle and of course Wratton's reverb drenched, dreamy soft boy vocals. Even a cursory listen reveals that certain modern bands (Belle And Sebastian anyone?) owe everything they are to these long forgotten musical rodents. So obviously, fans of Belle and Sebastian, who aren't already hoarding secret stashes of long lost Sarah singles, will be in swirling soft pop heaven, but folks who like stuff like Felt, Durutti Column, the Smiths, Trembling Blue Stars (obviously), Unrest, Teenage Fanclub, The Decemberists, Arcade Fire and other similar sorts of quirky blissed out pop shimmer should most definitely check out the Field Mice. This cd reissue contains For Keeps, their final album originally released in 1991, with all the tracks from the singles September's Not So Far Away and Missing the Moon. By the time For Keeps was released, the Field Mice had expanded to a five piece, and sounded like it, with big arrangements and lush production, extended drone-y jams and blissed out ambient jangle, definitely setting the stage for Belle And Sebastian and a legion of other twee pop outfits to come...
We've been loving the sweet, lush and lilting sounds of the Trembling Blue Stars for ages now, but we had no idea until recently that TBS frontman Bobby Wratton was also responsible for the genius twee pop of the Field Mice. From 1989 to 1991, the Field Mice were the jewel in the legendary Sarah Records' pop crown, making three records and a handful of singles, of some of the most gorgeously effervescent indie jangle pop ever. Super twee and fey, dreamy and drifty, with crystalline fingerpicked guitar, moody melancholy melodies, over shuffling electronic beats, simple acoustic drumming, wandering basslines, otherworldly female vocals, loads of precious indie jangle and of course Wratton's reverb drenched, dreamy soft boy vocals. Even a cursory listen reveals that certain modern bands (Belle And Sebastian anyone?) owe everything they are to these long forgotten musical rodents. So obviously, fans of Belle and Sebastian, who aren't already hoarding secret stashes of long lost Sarah singles, will be in swirling soft pop heaven, but folks who like stuff like Felt, Durutti Column, the Smiths, Trembling Blue Stars (obviously), Unrest, Teenage Fanclub, The Decemberists, Arcade Fire and other similar sorts of quirky blissed out pop shimmer should most definitely check out the Field Mice.
Skywriting was the Field Mice's second album originally released in June 1990. This 2cd reissue includes that lp in its entirety as well as all the tracks from the EPs The Autumn Store and So Said Kay, two rare comp tracks and three unreleased tracks.
Skywriting found the Field Mice stretching out a bit occasionally displaying influences from the then burgeoning dance / ambient scene, with sequenced rhythms, samples, and almost funky rhythms, all mixed in and amongst more classic and timeless sweet pop songsmithery.
We've been loving the sweet, lush and lilting sounds of the Trembling Blue Stars for ages now, but we had no idea until recently that TBS frontman Bobby Wratton was also responsible for the genius twee pop of the Field Mice. From 1989 to 1991,the Field Mice were the jewel in the legendary Sarah Records' pop crown, making three records and a handful of singles, of some of the most gorgeously effervescent indie jangle pop ever. Super twee and fey, dreamy and drifty, with crystalline fingerpicked guitar, moody melancholy melodies, over shuffling electronic beats, simple acoustic drumming, wandering basslines, otherworldly female vocals, loads of precious indie jangle and of course Wratton's reverb drenched, dreamy soft boy vocals. Even a cursory listen reveals that certain modern bands (Belle And Sebastian anyone?) owe everything they are to these long forgotten musical rodents. So obviously, fans of Belle and Sebastian, who aren't already hoarding secret stashes of long lost Sarah singles, will be in swirling soft pop heaven, but folks who like stuff like Felt, Durutti Column, the Smiths, Trembling Blue Stars (obviously), Unrest, Teenage Fanclub, The Decemberists, Arcade Fire and other similar sorts of quirky blissed out pop shimmer should most definitely check out the Field Mice.
Snowball was the Field Mice's debut album, originally released in 1989 as a 10" mini lp. This cd reissue also includes all the tracks from the first three singles as well as a rare compilation track. Snowball is maybe the weirdest of the bunch, with all that sweet jangle and shimmery pop glimmer, but structured around occasional drone-y almost krautrock like rhythms, brief glimpses of studio whirr and swoosh, and once in a while extended hypnotic bliss outs. At its root though, it's still simple and sweet, dreamy dreamy pop.
Field Music are primarily Peter Brewis and Andrew Moore, but for their self-titled debut they're joined by string players Emma Fisk, Rachael Davis and Peter Richardson as well as sax player John Steele. You might've seen/heard the two lads before though. They're in a couple bands you might be more familiar with... Franz Ferdinand and Maximo Park. Who? Never heard of 'em. Hahahaha. Ahem, this project is far less punchy and rambunctious than either of their day jobs. The tunes are still very poppy, but in a much more gentle breezy fashion. Sort of a well-crafted cross between Sea And Cake, Pinback and Brian Wilson. Nice.
Album number three from one of our favorite forces to emerge in the world of electronica over the last several years. Their (his?) Kompakt debut, Here We Go Sublime, still stands as one of our favorite records of the last five years and this new one is making us think we probably have lots of great records from The Field to look forward to for a long time to come. The Field's hypnotic take on minimal techno has the ability to win over folks who might not usually find themselves listening to techno records, while at the same time putting those who do occupy that word into a perpetual state of bliss.
Looping State Of Mind finds The Field taking their trademark approach to repetition and harnessing it deftly to reach ecstatic levels of energy, yet also demonstrating a knack for evoking much needed breeziness into their sound. We can't wait for some serious late night drive-time with this blasting as we cruise over bridges and under freeway ramps, only paying attention to the road ahead and the blinking lights of the city that surrounds us. So damn good!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
This is the third solo project from Brendan O'Hare of Mogwai, Teenage Fanclub, and the Telstar Ponies. Desperate space rock complete with drug-addled vocals, knob twiddling, and sparse guitar based structures.
Yeah, that hits the spot! The Fiery Furnaces' tea may be bitter but it sounds mighty good to these ears. While their last, occasionally laborious release (Rehearsing The Choir, a collaborative effort with their grandmother) tossed a few folks off their wagon of devotees, this album will surely win them back and then some! Oddly enough it was originally meant to be a companion to its predecessor, but it has an altogether different tone and energy. It's more like a contrasting counterpart.
The brother and sister duo's strange stagey cabaret flair is in full bloom with lots of rambunctious mischief and intriguing instrumentation. Actually quite a few of the songs could easily be mistaken for something on the new Sparks album. Check out the second tune "I'm In No Mood". Is it just us or is Eleanor Friedlander's high delivery not a deadringer for Russell Mael's falsetto?
They've spent some time at play in the studio, running the recordings of the vocals and instruments backwards, noodling with synthesizers and such. Mind you the former does get a little tedious after a while -- they use that trippy application quite generously -- particularly on the lengthy seventh track "The Vietnamese Telephone Ministry" which ends up seeming much longer than its 5:44 minutes. Nevertheless for those who love the pair's devil-may-care attitude and pilfering of styles from all time periods and places, this album will definitely not disappoint!
NOW ON VINYL! Here's what we said when the cd was first released:
Delving deeper into the strange and the eccentric and in the process carving out their own lil' musical niche, The Fiery Furnaces' impressive sophomore album Blueberryboat is like one heck of a wild carnival ride - like a tilt-a-whirl, funhouse and rollercoaster all rolled into one. At times Eleanor Friedberger's vocals seem more oddly affected in a Kate Bush sort of way laced with a mix of campy glam Rocky Horror Picture Show, old tyme cabaret, and sing-song nursery rhyme stylings. The music is heady, sometimes plodding, sometimes careening and often quite surprising, occasionally blending a thick squidgy electronic backdrop with their more familiar acoustic and electric guitar-based instrumentation. A wonderfully woozy listening adventure!
Another great release from this truly dynamic duo! Following two awesome albums comes this collection of b-sides and unreleased tracks. Now for most other bands the phrase "b-sides and unreleased tracks" usually means "cast-offs and not-good-enoughs", but for the 'Furnaces it means nothing of the sort. Their consistent high standard carries through all of their releases including this one. With their broad palette of instruments and ideas they fly in the face of current trends. They thoroughly enchant, puzzle, and rock, adding a novel 'talky' electric guitar line, some beautiful waterfall piano melodies, or some bubbly blurbly synthesizer whenever the occasion calls for it. They shuttle through and blend styles with carefree glee -- barreling in one direction with full momentum and then turning completely on a dime. Eleanor Friedberger has one of the most expressive devil-may-care voices around, delivering her vocals with a knowing nod and a sly wink. Her brother Michael is sure no slouch either. However perhaps the thing that sets them apart the most from a lot of bands these days is their lyrical content. Theirs is true 'story rock'. Each song unfurls a whimsical yarn or intriguing tale, but the subject matter is seldom fluffy, hell, it's frequently downright dark and twisted. Great stuff!
Oh and please note that although it's titled "EP", it's not all that short... it actually has ten songs!
NOW ON VINYL! Here's what we said when the cd was first released:
Eleanor and Matthew Friedberger, the brother and sister duo known as The Fiery Furnaces have certainly drawn lots of comparisons to the plethora of other boy/girl, brother/sister duos of late (White Stripes, The Kills, The Raveonettes to name just a few), but hang on a sec! Don't dismiss them as a bluesy, garagey raw rock copycat pair. 'Though there's definitely waves of low slung slouchy blues, garage and rock flowin' through their veins, there's also plenty more goin' on here. While The Fiery Furnaces are definitely not silly, they are full of whimsy, wit and carefree spirit. Gallowsbird's Park begins at a frantic pace of descending xylophone and piano lines while snarky guitars and thumpin' drums elbow their way through the fray. Eleanor's delivery has a distinct saucy devil-may-care tone to it. She seems to be having a blast kicking out each verse and chorus with such sass. This album is a rambunctious freewheeling jumble, however that's not to say it's by any means messy. What it is is a darn good time! Recommended.
Here's the latest album from the always slightly bizarre brother and sister duo Fiery Furnaces. The opener contains their familiar frantic piano playing that often brings to mind visions of the chase scenes in old Tom & Jerry cartoons. From there things launch off into something that resembles a peculiar radio play. Whereas in the past the pair's eccentricities surfaced in their obtusely poetic lyrics and Eleanor Friedlander's vocal performances, here they materialize in the broader array of weird sounds and the prominent vocal presence of the mysterious Ms Olga Sarantos. Curious as we are, we did a little sleuthing to try to figure out what the heck Eleanor and Matthew were goin' on about! What we discovered was that Rehearsing The Choir is even more of a family affair that usual. It's a collaboration with their grandmother Sarantos! Loosely based around her stories of living in Chicago, it's a lively, peppery collection.
For those of you that somehow have missed seeing a Fiery Furnaces show or for those of you wishing to relive the magic... The band has defied The Foghat Principle (as immortalized in Yo La Tengo's "Sugarcube" video which starred the fellas from Mr. Show... but we digress!) which proclaims that "your fourth album shall be DOUBLE LIVE!" Instead they held out a few albums longer, and made it their seventh. It's a good thing though, we think, because that means this hefty 51 track compilation features a bunch of songs from their most recent (and arguably their best) album Widow City. Psst, you might even recognize their touring bassist - Sebadoh's awesome Jason Loewenstein! Woo hoo! The band is as deliciously delirious, dark and strange in concert as they are on records, but with the added unpredictability of the live setting their songs of twisted folklore and fairytales seem to unravel at the seams and reweave into themselves and the adjoining tunes into something that's at once oddly familiar yet altogether different. The track names on the back of the digipak add to the disorientation - they're not the actual original song names, but a set of six equally perplexing chapter titles. A vast, wild 'n' wooly, suitably enigmatic listening experience.
Fiery Furnaces music is peculiar to say the least. Their sources of inspiration always run the gamut in style, era, mood and tempo. And yet, they're truly one of a kind, their sound immediately recognizable, their albums always wild'n'woolly surprise filled aural adventures. When listening to Widow City it's easy to imagine that Edward Gorey's Gashly Crumb Tinies, The Brothers Grimm, Mary Tourtel's Rupert Bear and Enid Blyton's Noddy commandeered a rickety time-travellin' spaceship and crashed it into a thatch of poison ivy in modern day New York City. With all of their music's mischievous, wheezing organ quirks and theatrical harp-glossed flair, the Friedbergers aren't afraid to exert a little muscle now and again, thrusting in a funked-up groove, a disjointed drumbeat or distorted guitar when the need arises. This trip is nothing short of gregarious, a little bit itchy, and delightfully enchanting. Recommended!
Delving deeper into the strange and the eccentric and in the process carving out their own lil' musical niche, The Fiery Furnaces' impressive sophomore album Blueberryboat is like one heck of a wild carnival ride - like a tilt-a-whirl, funhouse and rollercoaster all rolled into one. At times Eleanor Friedberger's vocals seem more oddly affected in a Kate Bush sort of way laced with a mix of campy glam Rocky Horror Picture Show, old tyme cabaret, and sing-song nursery rhyme stylings. The music is heady, sometimes plodding, sometimes careening and often quite surprising, occasionally blending a thick squidgy electronic backdrop with their more familiar acoustic and electric guitar-based instrumentation. A wonderfully woozy listening adventure!
Eleanor and Michael Friedberger, the brother and sister duo known as The Fiery Furnaces have certainly drawn lots of comparisons to the plethora of other boy/girl, brother/sister duos of late (White Stripes, The Kills, The Raveonettes to name just a few), but hang on a sec! Don't dismiss them as a bluesy, garagey raw rock copycat pair. 'Though there's definitely waves of low slung slouchy blues, garage and rock flowin' through their veins, there's also plenty more goin' on here. While The Fiery Furnaces are definitely not silly, they are full of whimsy, wit and carefree spirit. Gallowsbird's Park begins at a frantic pace of descending xylophone and piano lines while snarky guitars and thumpin' drums elbow their way through the fray. Eleanor's delivery has a distinct saucy devil-may-care tone to it. She seems to be having a blast kicking out each verse and chorus with such sass. This album is a rambunctious freewheeling jumble, however that's not to say it's by any means messy. What it is is a darn good time! Recommended.
Eleanor and Matthew Friedlander are back with their eighth full length, and they've got Sebadude Jason Lowenstein on board, both engineering and playing bass on the album. For some reason the band and/or the label chose to use a somewhat unfortunate point of reference in their press release which has cast a distracting pall across our listening experience. Normally the whimsically strange and elliptical music of Fiery Furnaces exist in a realm all its own, free from current trends and pop culture references. The irksome comment was an obtuse mention of the TV show Taxi and the movie Titanic. We quote "All rock music is a sort of dramatic music. And since the times are tough, it makes sense to have that "drama" be something more like a version of Taxi than something like a version of Titanic. We like Taxi better than Titanic anyway. So we hope that some of the songs on this record can be used as theme songs to folks' own personal versions of Taxi." WTF?! Well, at least it's been successful in getting us to talk about the release a few moment longer, although not necessarily about what is most important, the music itself! So how is this new FF anyways? Well, although it comes tearing out of the gate all rapid fire, a lot of the songs seem remarkably tame in delivery! For instance on "The End Is Near" Ms Eleanor verges on '70s Helen Reddy "Delta Dawn" territory. While there are fleeting moments of the delirious abandon that's been their trademark for years, many times it seems like they were reaching for unbridled soulfulness, but ended up sounding over-arching and awkwardly white. For a duo whose songs can take impossibly loop-de-loopy acrobatic flips or clever twists and still land 'em on their feet, this album occasionally suffers from two left feet. Don't want to totally heave-ho though. We all know FF albums are an acquired taste, but perhaps this one is a bit more so? Give 'er a listen and see what your taste buds tell you!
Back in 1995 Aquarius Records organized an all-day show benefitting us (and the IRS); performers included a short list of some of our favorite artists, such as Dirty Three, Barbara Manning, Mark Eitzel, Dieselhed, Virginia Dare, and J Church. One of the most highly-anticipated sets was the reunion of experimental psychedelic freaks The Fifty Foot Hose, led by original member (and current neon sculptor) Cork Marcheschi and featuring bass playing by Lennie Bova of Tripod Jimmie, plus a host of other likeminded folk. While Cork has issued the original Fifty Foot Hose album on his own Weasel Disc label (available here), this is a document of their fabulous live set from the Bottom of the Hill, and includes a 10+ minute encore jam that left some folks melting in their shoes and others' ears changed forever. Japanese import. Photos by Gail Butensky.
Wow, it's hard to believe we've never reviewed this album before because Fifty Foot Hose have always had a special place in our hearts. One of our favorite underground San Francisco bands from the original psychedelic era, we were very lucky to have them play at our 25th anniversary party when they revived a few years back, in the mid '90s. Led by bass player Cork Marcheschi, a noted sculptor and instrument builder, who, inspired by experimental composers John Cage, Edgar Varese, Terry Riley and George Antheil, began modifying his own form of electronic instruments using elements from theremins, fuzzboxes, cardboard tubes and a speaker from an old WWII bomber. Filling out the band were guitarist David Blossom and his wife Nancy on vocals who helped bring out the bands more jazz and psychedelic influences. Like a witchier United States of America (the band) with a more lysergic bent, Cauldron, the band's best known 1968 release goes through an array of styles from oscillating drone interludes, and folk-funk, to anxious mind-melting freakouts. This album has gone in and out of print so many times that it's no wonder we haven't been able to keep it around long enough to review it. A longtime favorite. Limited to 1000 copies. The lp is also quite limited (probably even moreso). Don't miss it.
Single featuring 2 classic tracks from this cult San Francisco '60s experimental psych rock outfit.
If Simple Machines were still around, Fighter D would be there.
While many techno-pop / electro-clash folks have recently shed many of the trappings of that deliriously champagne-bubbly dancefloor sound in favor of other directions (more rock in the case of Fischerspooner for instance), not so with James Figurine. Yes, he's of the band Figurine and yes, he's also known as Jimmy Tamborello of DNTEL and one half of Postal Service. Why mess with what he does best in all of his projects? He soldiers on with his new album titled Mistake Mistake Mistake Mistake. Funny thing tho' is that we can't hear any. So maybe the title was intended as a conjuring away of such maladies? Dunno, but what ya get is ten sparkling sweet electronic pop confections that fall dead center between Postal Service and Fischerspooner (think: more heft than PS and more twee than FS). Guest stars include Jenny Lewis and Kings Of Convenience's Erlend Oye.
Not to be confused with the electronic pop band known as Figurine (singular). Figurines make punchy pop that's sort of like a cross between The Arcade Fire, The Pixies and Violent Femmes... or alternately as someone here described, "Daniel Johnston singing with Pavement". The first three songs' get the ball rolling at quite a feverish pace. After that, things ease up a little into more of a gentle lope which we think is kinda disappointing after that juiced-up introduction. It just made us keep hoping they'd get a second wind. That's not to say the slower numbers are at all inferior, it just takes a little time to adjust to this very different tempo. So maybe you could break your Figurines' Skeleton listening session in two, depending on your personal preference, mood and energy level?
Film School's latest offering comes in the form of a 2-song 7" record. The A-side "Harmed" is a sneak preview of their forthcoming full length, and the B-side "The Longest Way" is exclusive to this release. They're a pair of very somber indie rock songs with male vocals that sound as if they're being sung by the sullen little brother of Pinback's Rob Crow... which suits us just fine!
Film School will probably never win any awards for originality, but if you're looking for this very specific sound of Brit rock, this Bay Area band delivers it in spades. Exceptionally so! For almost a decade now, they've honed their authentic blended rendition of Echo & The Bunnymen, The Cure and Slowdive from right here in the Bay Area. Their latest album Hideout keeps that sound alive while also recalling the early '90s American guitar wash kings Swervedriver. Buzzy blankets of effected electric guitars warm and tingle, while Krayg Burton's vocals waver in the zone between sleepy and druggy. Strangely comforting. Film School's line-up has always been somewhat nebulous and ever-changing, at times including members of Pavement, Fuck and Elephone. So it's not surprising that with the exception of Burton and keyboardist Jason Ruck, there's a whole new band for this album. Bassist Lorelei Plotczyk, drummer James Smith and guitarist Dave Dupuis step into the roles vacated by bassist Justin Labo, drummer Donny Newenhouse and guitarist Nyles Lannon (be sure to check out his terrific current solo album!).
Here's a hint of what's to come in Film School land! These New Yorkers found a new label home at Beggars Banquet and have a new full length slated for January of next year. From the very '80s British influenced sounds of these new songs, it's gonna be a perfect fit. We've gotta say that it's probably unlikely that Robert Smith is gonna be retiring as lead vocalist of The Cure any time soon, but if he did (or even if he called in sick or wanted to play hooky one day), Film School's lead singer Krayg Burton could step right in at the wink of an eye. Oddly enough the last time we heard from these guys was their Harmed 7" earlier this year, and back then his vocals were more along the lines of Pinback's Rob Crow. Anyhoo, On & On blends a romantic vocal angst (a la mid-period Cure) with fuzzy, swirling shoegazer guitars like those of Slowdive, Ride or The Church. Note: the cd version features one additional tune "February".
For Film School's full length debut on Beggars Banquet, they've skillfully pieced together the well-worn pages of your beloved '80s British alternative rock scrapbook. We definitely hear echoes of The Cure, The Church and yes, Echo And The Bunnymen from lead singer Krayg Burton's unmistakable Robert Smithian, on-the-verge emotiveness to the distinct effected guitar sound.
Lushly swirling shoegazer dreaminess that occasionally lingers on an unexpectedly atmospheric passage. What Film School lack in originality they more than make up in execution on this self-titled album. They could almost revive the dour yet romantic boy rock style all by their lonesome... well, with the assistance of one of the most appropriate labels around. Includes "On & On", one of the band's best songs to date, and the title track of the teaser ep that came out late last year.
We're huge fans of the Dais label, from the haunting industrial psychedelia of aTelecine, to the bloodletting gothpunk of Bestial Mouths, from the primitive American black metal of Lord Foul, to the experimental vocal rituals of Ghedalia Tazartes, and from the gothic neofolk of King Dude to the punishing noise rock of Twin Stumps, so we were expecting something similarly brutal / twisted / pummeling / heavy / fucked up from the strangely named Italian Horn. But what we definitely weren't expecting was Guided By Voices style lo-fi pop, but that's precisely what Italian Horn are all about, and really the cover art collage by none other than Robert Pollard should have been our first clue, but for whatever we were expecting, we have to say we're not at all disappointed, the Guided By Voices influence is indeed HUGE, but Italian Horn, definitely has a knack for short sharp blasts of woozy, softly psychedelic pop, opener "Bells Of Spring" unfurls warbly guitars, plenty of ooooh's and aaaah's, drapes them over a buried skeletal rhythm, and then croons over the top through and old distortion box, the result is wreathed in fuzz and hum and echo and delay, and let loose, where it hovers and drifts dreamily, a warm, sun dappled bit of fractured pop magic. Which is pretty much how the rest of the record unfolds, from the murky indie pop of "Comfortable Planes", with its caffeinated rhythm, and droned out distorted guitars, buried vox and keening melodies, or "Cambridge Factory", which melds a very Pollard-esque vocal line to some fuzz guitar and simple stumbling drumming, and then again wraps the whole thing in a dreamy druggy haze. However, besides having the best title of the bunch, "Witchcraft Recharge Center" might be our favorite song, with its weirdly distorted urgently strummed acoustic guitars, its buzzing squelchy streaks of sound, its keening vocal, and the weirdly super catchy bridge/chorus, all again buried beneath layer upon layer of grit and grime, which in no way disguises the pop dreaminess underneath.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!! Each one hand numbered.
As much as we always loved Godflesh and Techno Animal and most everything else Justin Broadrick was involved in, by the end there, a few years back, a lot of that stuff began to sound just a little bit tired and dated and sometimes even just plain not good. But now! Holy shit! Not sure what it was, but -something- happened during those few years in between. First there was Jesu, a total revelation, everything we loved about Godflesh, but swathed in thick swirls of My Bloody Valentine guitars and warm fuzzy M83-isms. A gloriously blissed out, but still impossibly heavy, sunkissed drone drenched chunk of dreamlike heaviness. And now we have the long overdue resurrection of Broadrick's ambient project Final. And something strange has happened to the music of Final as well. What was once bleak, dark, barren and clinical isolationism, has grown into something warm and alive, a series of blurry and buzzy and blissy miniature soundscapes. Warm and warped and warbly, very much like the sonic worlds created by Tim Hecker. Final now explore a musical world gauzy and sepia toned, dreamlike melodies obfuscated by warm rich layers of crackle and hum, chimes ring out, drifting delicately on a sea of sonic swirl, bits of glitch and grit surface occasionally, as does the occasional almost-rhythms, the whole record like a dusty old scrapbook of small faded snaphots capturing some lost time or some forgotten place. An abstruse drone music, viewed through a window dense with rain coursing down it's surface, giving everything a soft focus, a warped otherworldliness. The mood can occasionally still be ominous and creepy, even sort of menacing at times, but even then, it's diffused, washed out and grey, or blown out and dappled with winter sunlight, or smeared into an indistinct blur of pale moonlight, dreamy and droney and so beautiful.
