Ah, the Miasmah label, can they do no wrong? Not if darkly moody, cinematic soundscapes are your thing. It you like stuff on Type, for whom Miasmah's boss records as Svarte Greiner, you'll like Miasmah's releases too. Previously, this Norwegian label has brought us several dreamily eerie (or eerily dreamy?) discs by the likes of Elegi, Gultskra Artikler, and (highlighted just a few lists ago) the latest from Jasper TX. Now, Polish electro-acoustic composer Michal Jacaszek makes his Miasmah debut. His rustling electronics are melded with classical strings (cello and violin played by Ania Smiszek-Wesolowska and Stefan Wesolowski) and, crucially, the lovely vocals of Maja Sieminska, which seem inspired by the liturgical chant of medieval 'early music'.
It's all quite intimately lonesome, and somber, and very beautiful. Sieminska's ghostly, gossamer singing sighs amidst those mournful chamber strings, humming glitch and crackling drone, and occasional electronic "beats" that sound more like drops of water, slowly dripping from stalactites... as if you're in some vast dark cavern, Sieminska's siren voice drawing you ever deeper into the catacombs, entranced. One of our new favorite drifting-off-to-sleep records, its many shades of grey so, so very gorgeous.
Jack Ruby was a sporadic NYC art-fuck project from the mid '70s that existed before such a thing as No Wave could be codified as an actual 'scene' or else they would have no doubt been lumped alongside Teenage Jesus & The Jerks, Beirut Slump, Theoretical Girls, and Mars. The band only managed to get into a proper studio a couple of a times and played about five shows during their brief start-stop-start-stop 'career'. By the time the band finally ceased to be in 1977, none of the founding members had stuck around to see the band dissolve. The title track to this compilation was recorded in one of Jack Ruby's very rare studio sessions, made as a demo for Epic Records who may have been looking for the next Stooges, but instead had on their hands a psycho tune of hotwired proto-punk underpinned by strutting monofunk rhythms and an unkempt guitar/violin squalor on top. What would have been the B-side to that unreleased single is an atonal carcrash of anti-rock entitled "Mayonnaise." Had Jack Ruby continued to make tracks like these two, they may have been destined for greatness; but as it is, the band was only a whisper of a footnote, barely remembered by anybody from back in the day.
If the chronology is to be understood properly, the first incarnation of Jack Ruby involved electronic wrangler Randy Cohen, who splattered sounds across his Serge synthesizer with free-noise squiggles courtesy of the mononymous performance artist Boris (later known as Boris Policeband) and mumbled anti-poetry from Robin Hall. The recordings from this incarnation of Jack Ruby comprise the second disc, very much a precursor to the libertine, DIY electronics of Nautical Almanac. When Cohen, Boris, and Hall added guitarist / bassist Chris Gray into the fray, Jack Ruby transformed into the splatter-rock outfit that earned them that one longshot possibility to record for Epic, taking up purposefully tasteless raunch-rock akin to the Electric Eels and Destroy All Monsters. Boris, Cohen, and Hall all slowly departed, with Gray finding other members to bash rhythm and thrash vocal cords. One of Jack Ruby's latter-day members was George Scott III who matriculated into No Wave royalty as a member of the Contortionists and 8-Eyed Spy. This compilation's booklet features historical revisionist epistles from Thurston Moore and Jon Savage as well as lengthy interviews with the various members of Jack Ruby. What no texts from Byron Coley? The anti-canonical ethos of this compendium has his name written all over it.
NOW ON VINYL! There's a double cd collection we listed recently called Hit And Run, this lp contains the tracks from the first of those discs only, but it's the most essential stuff. Here's our write up on Jack Ruby from before...
Jack Ruby was a sporadic NYC art-fuck project from the mid '70s that existed before such a thing as No Wave could be codified as an actual 'scene' or else they would have no doubt been lumped alongside Teenage Jesus & The Jerks, Beirut Slump, Theoretical Girls, and Mars. The band only managed to get into a proper studio a couple of a times and played about five shows during their brief start-stop-start-stop 'career'. By the time the band finally ceased to be in 1977, none of the founding members had stuck around to see the band dissolve. The title track to this compilation was recorded in one of Jack Ruby's very rare studio sessions, made as a demo for Epic Records who may have been looking for the next Stooges, but instead had on their hands a psycho tune of hotwired proto-punk underpinned by strutting monofunk rhythms and an unkempt guitar/violin squalor on top. What would have been the B-side to that unreleased single is an atonal carcrash of anti-rock entitled "Mayonnaise." Had Jack Ruby continued to make tracks like these two, they may have been destined for greatness; but as it is, the band was only a whisper of a footnote, barely remembered by anybody from back in the day.
If the chronology is to be understood properly, the first incarnation of Jack Ruby involved electronic wrangler Randy Cohen, who splattered sounds across his Serge synthesizer with free-noise squiggles courtesy of the mononymous performance artist Boris (later known as Boris Policeband) and mumbled anti-poetry from Robin Hall. The recordings from this incarnation of Jack Ruby comprise the second disc, very much a precursor to the libertine, DIY electronics of Nautical Almanac. When Cohen, Boris, and Hall added guitarist / bassist Chris Gray into the fray, Jack Ruby transformed into the splatter-rock outfit that earned them that one longshot possibility to record for Epic, taking up purposefully tasteless raunch-rock akin to the Electric Eels and Destroy All Monsters. Boris, Cohen, and Hall all slowly departed, with Gray finding other members to bash rhythm and thrash vocal cords. One of Jack Ruby's latter-day members was George Scott III who matriculated into No Wave royalty as a member of the Contortionists and 8-Eyed Spy.
NOW ON VINYL! The second half of the Hit And Run double cd collection, with all the material that didn't appear on the vinyl Vol. 1, including the 16+ minute track "Destroy/Lost". Here's our write up all about Jack Ruby from when we listed the compact disc collection...
Jack Ruby was a sporadic NYC art-fuck project from the mid '70s that existed before such a thing as No Wave could be codified as an actual 'scene' or else they would have no doubt been lumped alongside Teenage Jesus & The Jerks, Beirut Slump, Theoretical Girls, and Mars. The band only managed to get into a proper studio a couple of a times and played about five shows during their brief start-stop-start-stop 'career'. By the time the band finally ceased to be in 1977, none of the founding members had stuck around to see the band dissolve. The title track to this compilation was recorded in one of Jack Ruby's very rare studio sessions, made as a demo for Epic Records who may have been looking for the next Stooges, but instead had on their hands a psycho tune of hotwired proto-punk underpinned by strutting monofunk rhythms and an unkempt guitar/violin squalor on top. What would have been the B-side to that unreleased single is an atonal carcrash of anti-rock entitled "Mayonnaise." Had Jack Ruby continued to make tracks like these two, they may have been destined for greatness; but as it is, the band was only a whisper of a footnote, barely remembered by anybody from back in the day.
If the chronology is to be understood properly, the first incarnation of Jack Ruby involved electronic wrangler Randy Cohen, who splattered sounds across his Serge synthesizer with free-noise squiggles courtesy of the mononymous performance artist Boris (later known as Boris Policeband) and mumbled anti-poetry from Robin Hall. The recordings from this incarnation of Jack Ruby comprise the second disc, very much a precursor to the libertine, DIY electronics of Nautical Almanac. When Cohen, Boris, and Hall added guitarist / bassist Chris Gray into the fray, Jack Ruby transformed into the splatter-rock outfit that earned them that one longshot possibility to record for Epic, taking up purposefully tasteless raunch-rock akin to the Electric Eels and Destroy All Monsters. Boris, Cohen, and Hall all slowly departed, with Gray finding other members to bash rhythm and thrash vocal cords. One of Jack Ruby's latter-day members was George Scott III who matriculated into No Wave royalty as a member of the Contortionists and 8-Eyed Spy.
There was a time where we were pretty obsessed with Jackie-O Motherfucker. They definitely put out some amazing material. Nice freeform jams that offered up sounds new and exciting. But it seems, that maybe, that time is past. Tedious instrumental passages and really horrible vocals, mixed weirdly too but not really in a good way. Not sure what happened, but whatever it is, we wish it hadn't. Definitely don't bother with this one, there are plenty of other amazing JOMF records still available.
Your first impulse might be to assume that the title of JOMF's new record, Ballads Of The Revolution, was not meant to be taken literally, but in some weird way, these six tracks are indeed balladic, albeit in a distinctly Jackie-O style, opening with a traditional, and following that with a Lucky Dragons cover, before getting to the originals, but right out of the gate, the sound is drifty and dreamy, slide guitars slippery over warm reverbed twang, deep crooned vocals, brushed drums, all hazy and rainy afternoon sounding. The Lucky Dragons cover is all skittery percussion and muted bleated horns, as well as the soft honeyed vocals of Honey Owens aka Valet, now seemingly a full time Motherfucker. The song gets gradually more and more dense and clattery, eventually morphing into something distinctly noisy and chaotic and not at all ballad-like.
The four originals also veer away from ballad territory, but not entirely, the vocals in the first original are quite prominent, soaring in a cloud of soft reverb, over an almost krautlike groove, wrapped in a Spacemen 3 like haze, the following track, is all mumbled vox over spacey FX, and drum machine skitter, total druggy trip out drift, before another spacekraut jam that finds the band getting a little Hawkwindy, the vocals again heavily effected, drifting through space, while the band lock into a serious psychrock fuzz guitar groove, before finally finishing off with another sort-of-ballad, Appalachian guitar, simple lilting vocals, lovely female background vox, fuzzy minimal leads, very much like some lost seventies acid folk jam, gorgeous stuff.
Another long out of print JOMF gem gets the deluxe reissue treatment. Here's our review from the first time around:
Jackie-O Motherfucker's sound is not the aggro fury the name might imply. Rather this Portland/New York/Baltimore ensemble prefers freeminded improvisational stylings that delve into the meandering Americana of Souled American, but with the psychedelic pastoral jazz freakouts of the No Neck Blues Band or the Sun City Girls. Through delicate plucks of banjo, melancholic slide guitars, and creaking violin, Jackie-O Motherfucker wanders through avant garde deconstructions of what could be folk standards -- "Amazing Grace" makes an appearance with only a single sax riff betraying its presence. So nice.
Finally available again!
Northwestern psychedelic space/free/avant rockers Jackie O Motherfucker return from a massive European tour and all we got was this lousy live double cd. Just kidding. It's hardly lousy. In fact, this may be one of our favorite JOMF recordings to date. Which makes sense, since live is where a large improvisatory ensemble can let loose and do what they do best. Improvise. Wander. Meander. Get lost. And explore. Mantra like, barely-there-vocals, guitars buzzing like sitars, subtle shuffling percussion, warm drones, occasional sputters and half melodies from the turntables, guitars and basses melt into the background, blending into the sonic foliage, while everything rustles and shimmers, breathes and stretches. Like free jazz filtered through a thick haze of painkillers and potsmoke. Lethargic, lugubrious, cinematic and at times almost nightmarish. Really nice! Includes a West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band cover, of all things...
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Another super limited release from Portland (formerly SF) based artist Chris Johansen's Awesome Vistas label. We flew through the last two, the Oh Sees' Peanut Butter Oven EP and Linda Hagood's Pink Love Red Love (the Oh Sees is WAY gone, but we might have a few of the Hagood left), so we expect the new ones to fly out of here just as fast.
The Cryin' Sea is the latest from folk drone free noise collective Jackie-O Motherfucker, whose last disc Freedom Land was a bit of a flop around these parts. But thankfully The Cryin' Sea has not only righted that wrong, it also finds the band returning to more of a folk sound, at least on the opener. A loping meandering shuffle, with mumbled vocals, simple propulsive drumming, and spidery reverby guitar lines. A bit like a super stripped down No Neck, Jackie-O let the song unfurl lazily, allowing the track to morph into some super blissed out krautrock, which could easily have filled out the whole side but ends up ending way too soon. That's followed up by something a bit more abstract, an angular assemblage of buzzing metallic melodic fragments, bits of guitar twang spread out over sizzling tinkling percussion, muted voices, and distant shimmering drones, before the vocals return and the song gets a bit folky again. The side closer is a caustic slab of bedroom buzz, the guitars crunchy and buzzing, the vocals distorted and garbled, the drums a buried plod, a lilting, darkly pretty dirge.
As if that weren't enough, the B-side is a single side long song, the title track captured live in Finland, and sounding much more like 'classic' JoM: sputtery percussion, moaned abstract vocals, bits of turntable whir and mutated samples, eventually giving way to strummed guitar, simple motorik drum beat, and some gorgeous super stripped down krautrockiness, that over the course of the rest of the disc becomes looser and looser, more and more free, finishing off with a burst of soft cacophony. Really nice. And JoM now counts among its membership Nick Bindeman, the man behind bigtime aQ drone faves Tunnels (he may have been in JoM for a while, but we only just noticed).
As with all Awesome Vistas, cool cover art too. Hand screened black green and purple images on SUPER thick old style lp sleeves, with a photocopied insert.
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES!!!
When this showed up at Aquarius, I made a stupid comment to a customer who was curious about this record. I said that Jackie-O Motherfucker were somewhat of a Tom Sawyer / Huck Finn communal project featuring a bunch of random No Neck Blues Band style "pipe
Now that I've actually cracked the duct-tape seal which encases the two records and immersed myself in the wonders of "The Magick Fire Music," I must gladly admit that I was very very wrong. There certainly is a rustic Tom Sawyer / Huck Finn aspect to the Portland ensemble's sound, but there is much less of the expected jazz element. Instead, Jackie-O Motherfucker has carved out a sound that is emotively quite similar to the post-rock melancholia of Godspeed / Sigur Ros but with none of their overly dramatic orchestrations.
The album opens with a buried collage of shortwave radio heterodyning and disconnected voices, but emphatically steps forward with a guitar duet between a saddened David Pajo-esque riff and an intertwining effects-laden chimed tone. After the clunky twang of Jew's harps on "Bone Saw," Jackie-O returns to the evocative, spacious, and cinematically Western riffs (especially on the breathtakingly melancholy "The Cage"), as an effective means of transcribing sound into a psychic landscape that is strangely similar to the aforementioned Godspeed. While Godspeed brackets their tight orchestrations around a social pessimism that eventually leads to cathartic enlightenment about how shitty the world is around us, Jackie-O Motherfucker settles back into a drugged stupor of oddly psychedelic grooves, something I prefer. A very, very good record!
Run by Tom Greenwood and Josh Stevenson, both from Jackie-O Motherfucker, the U Sound series documents lost, hidden and forgotten musical history. Volume 2 features excerpts from two live Jackie-O Motherfucker shows in Portland and Vancouver back in 2000,
More live recordings from the Portland improv collective Jackie-O Motherfucker from 2001 from shows in Portland and Vancouver. This document opens with their often squiggly saxophone mellowing out into sultry almost snake charmers' slinkiness, fronting lots
Again, ESP-style revisionist jazz kicks off these two sets from Jackie-O Motherfucker from live shows in their native Portland and Seattle. Of all of the U Sound archives of Jackie-O live shows Volume 4 is the most free-jazz oriented, even their amazingly
Valley of Fire finds Jackie-O Motherfucker settling down a bit, and that's not a bad thing.
There have been more bands and more releases embracing the type of song-writing that K Records and Bloomington punx have been quietly working on for years than we could possibly try to count. Part of what's punk about it is that you really only need to know a few major-key progressions, maybe a major scale or two, and you're good to go. But sometimes it's nice to see more developed artists play with the tension between folk and the avant garde. So basically, this release seems to have increased focus on song-writing, less on noisy freak-outs or improvisation -- although here's still some, and a whole lot more vocals. Maybe this record is more for the uninitiated trying to get to the bottom of Jackie-O, or those hesitant to commit to some of their longer, stranger works. Still, somewhat hesitantly recommended.
Finally available on cd, the one-two punch that proves Jackie O Motherfucker just may well edge out their more hyped contemporaries, the No Neck Blues Band and Sunburned Hand Of The Man, in the bid to rule the world of US-underground-free-psych-folk-weirdness.
There certainly is a rustic Tom Sawyer / Huck Finn aspect to this Portland ensemble's sound, but there is much less of the expected jazz element. Instead, Jackie-O Motherfucker have carved out a sound that is emotively quite similar to the post-rock melancholia of Godspeed / Sigur Ros but with none of their overly dramatic orchestrations.
The album opens with a buried collage of heterodyning shortwave radio and disconnected voices, but emphatically steps forward with a guitar duet between a sad David Pajo-esque riff and an intertwining effects-laden chimed tone. After the clunky twang of Jew's harps on "Bone Saw," Jackie-O returns to the evocative, spacious, and cinematically Western riffs (especially on the breathtakingly melancholy "The Cage"), as an effective means of transcribing sound into a psychic landscape that is strangely similar to the aforementioned Godspeed. While Godspeed bracket their tight orchestrations around a social pessimism that eventually leads to cathartic enlightenment about how shitty the world is around us, Jackie-O Motherfucker shrug their shoulders and settle back into a drugged out, dreamy drawly musical stupor of oddly psychedelic grooves which somehow seems way more appealing.
Domo arigato! Now here's a nice import vinyl reissue of this essential late '60s Japanese psychedelic rock record, the genius debut by 'Group Sounds-gone-gloomy' band the Jacks. Along with underground cult heroes Les Rallizes Denudes, The Jacks were another early, influential home-grown Japanese psych band, just ask Keiji Haino, whose outfit Fushitsusha covered the Jacks' classic "Marianne" on the second Tokyo Flashback volume.
With stinging Quicksilver psych guitar leads and melancholy vocals, the Jacks' legendary Vacant World, from 1968, is a truly gorgeous album of delicacy, darkness, and murk, that words like 'timeless' and 'dramatic' well describe. Its sparse, sad beauty makes it one of AQ overlord Allan's favorite '60s psych artifacts ever (although fellow AQ overlord Andee isn't as into it, but then, he doesn't really like Can or the Velvet Underground, either). Unlike other noted Japanese 'GS' bands like The Mops or The Challengers, these guys were not mainly, merely doing covers of the rock hits of the day from San Francisco and London, no. While Western garage and blues and psychedelic rock certainly shaped their sound, the Jacks seem uniquely Japanese, uniquely Jacks as well.
Though there's fuzz guitar on here, it's much more about atmosphere, moodiness, melody. The lyrics too, were apparently somewhat subversive, not that we'd know for sure. Totally recommended, especially to those of you into the more gentle and balladic side of more current Japanese psych acts like Ghost, LSD-march, Up-Tight, Nagisa Ni Te, etc.
Pressed on red vinyl, identical to its original issue, we're told.
Fans of current underground Japanese psych stuff (Acid Mothers Temple, Keiji Haino, Ghost, Nagisa Ni Te, etc.) who'd like to delve into the early psychedelic era precursors of those acts have been lucky lately, what with that Les Rallizes Denudes double cd finally having some availability, and the Flower Travellin' Band disc we recently recommended too. As we mentioned in our Rallizes review, The Jacks were the other crucial home-grown Japanese psych band, an admitted influence on Fushitsusha certainly, who once covered The Jacks' classic "Marianne". And we just managed to get a few imported copies of this 2-on-1 disc by 'em, released last year on the Japanese Shagadelic label. Not only does it have the ten tracks of their legendary "Vacant World" but also another 11 constituting their follow-up album "Super Session" (both 1968), plus three rare bonus tracks (two from singles, one live). The booklet provides discographical information and album/single art.
With stinging Quicksilver psych guitar leads and melancholy vocals, "Vacant World" is a truly gorgeous album of darkness and murk that words like delicate, dramatic, and timeless well describe. Its sparse, sad beauty makes it one of Allan's favorite '60s psych artifacts ever, though not everyone else here is so moved. Unlike other noted Japanese 'GS' bands like The Mops or The Challengers, these guys were not mainly, merely doing covers of the current rock hits of the day from San Francisco and London. While Western garage and blues and psychedelic rock certainly shaped their sound, The Jacks seem uniquely Japanese, uniquely Jacks as well.
Now for two warnings: The second album on here, Super Session, unfortunately does seem to delve into a more commerical, less special sound. It's as if some producer or record exec told 'em they had to be more like the competition. As a result, this does venture into a bar rock zone that's not at all on par with "Vacant World". And if you like saxophone, they get into that here too. A very different mood from the debut indeed. Oh well. But it's still cool to have, kitschy fun.
Ok, here's the second catch: we ONLY have 6 of these in stock right now, so if you need this, act fast...dunno when/if we can get more, unfortunately.
MPEG Download: "Marianne" [/audio/jacksmarianne.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Marianne" [/audio/jacksmarianne.m3u]
So sad. So Good!
... in which we discover that there was a baby tiger present at the Thriller album photo shoot. Bonus stuff included, namely a demo version of "Billie Jean", interviews with Quincy Jones and Rod Temperton, the unused second verse of Vincent Price's
The first in a new series from Oakland tape label Sanity Muffin, in which visual artists, most of which are not actually musicians, are asked to create a tape, both the music and packaging, with the only caveat being that they do whatever they want. The first installment comes from aQ pal Rich Jacobs, who most art nerds are no doubt familiar with, who has conjured up a cool, dark, brooding collection of guitar instrumentals, the label describes the sound as improv surf and Western cinematic, and there's definitely some of that going on, but we're hearing lots of Sun City Girls too, a sort of Eastern vibe, droned out, buzzy, exotic and mysterious, spidery melodies wrapped around reverby riffs, a sort of slow motion surf twang brood that is haunting and hypnotic, tranced out and woozily mesmerizing, hazy and washed out and dreamily psychedelic, it's a gorgeous dusty dreamlike sound that we find ourselves getting utterly lost in.
LIMITED TO 150 COPIES! Super deluxe packaging by Jacobs himself, printed tape labels on blue tapes, a mini screen printed zine, a mini Gocco print, a Japanese style obi, stamped and hand numbered.
Jacopo Di Nicola is an Italian singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist whose band is locally based here in San Francisco. Inspired by European cafe rock, Tropicalia and global rhythms, Jacopo manages on his debut cd to show a wide variety of styles and directions but keep it encapsulated as a satisfying whole. Treading a path between the baroque pop of Lucio Battisti and the frenetic rhythms of Manu Chao, Jacopo manages to charm with infectious songs sung in both Italian and English and unique instrumentation including mandolins, hand percussion, and some rather masterful kazoo playing! Nice!
What's the scariest and creepiest of instruments? Could it be the downtuned electric guitar, that sound that marks all things dark and heavy and brutal and grim? Or could it be the cello with its soaring keening deep throated moan? Well we might posit, especially in light of this Jacula record, that the creepiest of all instruments is most certainly the church organ. Surprising that an instrument used chiefly to inspire and praise can illicit such utter unease and create such a pervasively creepy ambience. And that's pretty much what Jacula is all about, creepy ambience. Thick and haunting washes of warm rich church organ drone, resonant and reverberant, sometimes accompanied by simple pounding drums or mournful folky guitar melodies or wild psychedelic freakouts or soaring female operatic vocals or even occasional lyrics spoken ominously in Italian, but more often than not it's just the massive and ominous swells of a church organ. So effectively and utterly evil sounding. Jacula are sort of like a doom metal soundtrack to a Dario Argento movie. Goblin meets Skepticism! A Krautrock Thergothon? But is's not all mellow murky moodiness, tracks three and four, "Triumpratus Sad" and "Veneficium", both feature seriously fuzzed out, almost punk rock riffs, that sound about a decade before their time, insistent and completely heavy, even more so when they're eventually joined by a pounding one-drum beat or strident atonal piano or wild swirling progrock keyboards. Amazing! It's no wonder we sold the first couple of copies we got in of this to members of local black metal bands Ludicra and Leviathan!
In Cauda Semper Stat Venenum (literally "The Poison Is Always At The End"), which was supposedly recorded in an English castle, was originally released in an edition of only 300 copies in the late sixties and has been completely unavailable until just recently (this reissue cd is not entirely new, but it took us until now to get enough copies to list). Formed in 1968, Jacula even counted a medium as a member of their band who we assume was critical to the process of creating this record, considering that In Cauda Semper Stat Venenum was "Composed By Spiritualist Seance (1966-1969)" Woah! And for those of you well versed in sixties and seventies prog, be aware that this reissue is NOT the same as the Jacula record released in the early seventies (1972's Tardo Pede In Magiam Versus), even though for some strange reason Black Widow has given it pretty much the exact same cover.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Awesome sun soaked lo-fi garage pop from Miami, that's overflowing with awesome hooks and colorful personality. Somehow these tracks are infused with a baked lackadaisical stoner vibe yet the songs are so damn fast, immediate and out of control catchy. Yes, lo-fi garage pop is a very crowded field these days, but damn, as long as folks keep cranking out shit that's this good, our ears still have plenty of room. And this really is that good. All three songs on this 7" totally rule, and we still love this format, the best for an introduction to a band. Show us you can make a few perfect songs, worthy of us getting up to lay the needle down over and over and then you have won us over for when your full length comes out. Fans of Wavves, Thee Oh Sees, Dum Dum Girls, Ty Segall, Best Coast, etc. will be all over this. Like all things Mexican Summer this is limited so grab one now so you don't have to go hunting on eBay later.
Comes with a coupon for a digital download of the songs as well.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Record number two from these Florida fuzz poppers, their first for Sub Pop subsidiary Hardly Art, and it's brimming with sunshiney jangle and fuzzy caffeinated glammy teenage power pop. These guys take classic sixties garage rock, and filter it through the current crop of retro garage rock, but unlike the twisted sonic lysergy and noisy reverbery of their sonic brethren, these guys keep it simple, their sound lightly psychedelic, heavily sundazed, a little bit dreamily wasted, heavy on the jangle and crunch, the big choruses, the sing alongs, lots of ooooh's and aaaaah's, the drums are simple but propulsive, and these guys definitely know their way around a hook, there's a Ramones vibe too, but it's more Ramones via the Beach Boys maybe, and there are occasional bits of sonic fuckery, a little bit of cool reverbed vocals now and again, but Jacuzzi Boys are way more concerned with whipping up some fun, sunny, beach pop bliss, and they pretty much nail it. Way recommended for fans of Ganglians, the Drums, Crocodiles, Jaill, Kids On A Crime Spree, the Soft Pack and other similarly minded pop combos.
Ms Sara Jaffe (former guitarist for SF's Erase Errata) heeded the call of the classroom, moved out east a short while ago and now calls Boston home. Academia might take up much of her time out there but clearly music continues to flow in her veins. Her hushed heart-on-her-sleeve songs as a solo artist definitely stand in stark contrast to the angular, somewhat cerebral punch of her old band's. Salt And Water's five acoustic folksy numbers are ultra intimate and Spartan. Wistfully pretty.
Considerate, slightly pensive, intelligent, emotionally-balanced, fun-loving, stylish, SCANDINAVIAN, really into lying in a beautiful field on a clear night staring at stars, and really REALLY into lavishing you with loads of attention. Sound like a pretty sweet boyfriend? A boyfriend named... Jaga??
Hmmm, I know that was pretty weird, but it just seems like this double cd album from Norway's mega 10-piece band, Jaga (formerly Jaga Jazzist), is the perfect mate for plane or train travel, curling up with at night to read by the fire, afternoon painting sessions in the studio, and, oh, I don't know, dining on smoked salmon by the sea at sunset in a futuristic floating space-bar made of ice.
Jaga's latest -- a limited edition 2cd album, What We Must/Spydeberg Sessions -- is a stylistic culmination of their cosmic space jazz form. AND NOW! With more guitars! What We Must (the first disc) takes this trippy dippy blissful ride through a jazzy cosmos that doesn't seem TOO many light years away. Definitely their/his most mature and well-formed album to date. Every instrument, including all those electronic, is perfectly balanced in the mix. At no point does one speak more loudly above the others. That is, until the second song on the second disc!
All I Know Is Tonight (on disc 2) apparently is a "rough rough mix", but I love it! A nearly raging guitar lashes out at you in the first few measures before settling down into the musical pit. We must say, the roughness is really quite wonderful. The polish of their proper album songs almost lacks character in a way, leaving you to float around intelligently in their prozac'd smooth-space-jazz blissdom. It's nice to have both here. Glad they included this second disc! Other treats on it include demos of "Mikado", "Stardust Hotel" and "Swedenborgske Rom".
Fans of Sea and Cake, Tortoise and other like-mindedly thoughtful Thrill Jockey post-rock type artists should truly love this record. For you, it will take that sound to a new level. Level '05. Fans of Jaga's earlier works should be radiantly pleased with this. Tres recommended!
Originally a Norwegian-only release from 1998, Jaga Jazzist's Magazine is this hybrid post-rock/jazz ensemble's especially jazz-oriented second album. Now re-issued and available globally, it contains the song "Plym", recorded and produced by Helge Sten (aka Deathprod, also known from Supersilent) and "Seems To Me", a mellow and beautifully presented solo-ish offering from band-member Martin Horntveth. The songs on Magazine are far less electronically considered than their later releases, much more human than machine for the maverick Norwegian 10-piece. Well worth checking out!
For every band the hype machine catapults into the stratosphere of underground indie rock next big thing-ness, a hundred others get pushed aside, forgotten or ignored, many of those WAY more deserving of the accolades, and the praise, and more importantly, the ears of the listener, but for whatever reason, wrong label, no hyped tours, bad business sense, no blogosphere freakouts, no connections to other even cooler bands, those bands can only do so much, which often means simply making an incredible record, that practically nobody hears. Some bands tough it out, make more records, eventually getting noticed, and then everyone can return to that old record and finally proclaim it a masterpiece, and lament the fact that it was so overlooked, but many bands put everything they have into that record, energy, creativity, money, time, and when nothing happens, they just give it up, which is always a sad sad thing.
So what does that have to do with Wisconsin psych pop combo Jaill? Nothing really, other than the fact, that these guys have been around since 2002, have released a bunch of other records, but with That's How We Burn, have made probably the best, catchiest psychedelic indie pop record of the year, maybe the last several years, yet they rarely pop up on blogs, we rarely hear tastemakers shouting from the mountaintops about Jaill, or about That's How We Burn. Compare that to, say, Best Coast, who we also love, but whose every move, every sound is covered by every blog in the world. It's weird, cuz this Jaill record, holy shit, for folks who hear hundreds of new records every month, many of them amazing, for ONE SINGLE record to get played over and over, as in 5, 6 even 10 times a day, well as far as recommendations go, it's pretty tough to beat. But as with most pop records, it starts with one song, that one song that sinks it's hooks into you, and won't let go, and no matter how good the rest of the record is, you just can't stop yourself from listening to that same song over and over and over. And on That's How We Burn, that song is "Thank Us Later", from the first few seconds, you'll be hooked, the slithery melody, the weird drum fill, the echoey guitar jangle, and then when the vocals come in, all weary, slipping from croon to almost falsetto, and then the chorus, a fucking KILLER, the sort of chorus that some bands build a whole career on, and then there's an equally catchy bridge, the whole song pretty much perfect, a little bit surf rock, a little bit Brit rock, a little bit modern garage pop, but the song itself, it's the kind of jam any of the current crop of lo-fi garage poppers would KILL for, Thee Oh Sees, Ty Segall, Sic Alps, Male Bonding, we could go on and on, but the songs on Jaill stand up to anything any of those bands can come up with, and then some.
And where as lots of records we love have one of those opening one-two-three punches, an opening salvo that slays, and makes the whole record super front loaded, but on That's How We Burn, those one-two-three punches are everywhere, in fact, pick a song, and it's the first in one of those kick ass salvos, and yeah, sure, the opening three tracks are tough to beat, "The Stroller" is dark and hypnotic and a little bit gloomy, mixing in some Interpol and Rapture to their more slacker surfy sound, and weirdly it suits them big time, and it has a wicked crunchy chorus, the whole thing driven by some serious bad ass riffing, and some cool harmony vocals, which leads right into "Everyone's Hip" which sounds more slackery, a little bit like the Soft Pack or the Strokes, mixed with a bit of pavement, with a weird angular verse, and totally insanely hooky bridge and a cool doo wop-y chorus. Finally, "On The Beat" finishes off that opening salvo with something a little bit more laid back and laconic, the guitars droney and hypnotic, and another irresistible chorus, lots of crunch and thump and chug, and some cool vocal harmonies.
Which leads us right into "Thank Us Later", 1-2-3 salvo number two, and of course we STILL aren't tired of listening to it, but after another time through, we're led right into "Summer Mess" an awesome stripped down acoustic jam, with some snarky lyrics, but with the heartfelt delivery, and the amazing melody, it's pretty tough to fight, and finally, another guitar comes in, and some simple percussion, making the last 30 seconds lush and sunshiney and summery. And finally part 3, "She's My Baby", a driving groover, with another cool chugging guitar part, clanging chiming chords, and yet ANOTHER amazing chorus, which by now should lead you to the conclusion that these guys know their way around a hook, and aren't afraid to jam a whole mess of them into a single song.
We could keep going, another three-fer, starting with "Snake Shakes", which begins with the bassline from Billy Squier's "Everybody Wants you", before the vocals transform the song into something much more lilting and jangly... But you get the drift, pretty much every song here is awesome, catchy and crunchy and jangly and hooky, and unlike the horde of bands today who think enough reverb and weird lo-fi production techniques will disguise the fact that there's nothing going on underneath, Jaill, don't bother, cuz they don't need to, maybe that's why they're not getting the hype the so deserve, not noisy enough, not weird enough, not lo-fi enough, not hazy sixties girl group enough, but fuck it, who cares, this rules, we love it, and we think you will too, and we can't offer up any more hype than making this an aQ Record Of The Week and the thousand or so words you just finished reading...
We made Jaill's That's How We Burn our Record Of The Week back in 2010, and here it is more almost two years later, and literally the only thing that is keeping us from STILL listening to that record constantly, is a NEW Jaill record the third full length since 2009 from this psych pop outfit from Milwaukee, and while ANY record that is the follow up to one as obsessively and slavishly listened to as That's How We Burn is already set up to be a disappointment, all it took was a few listens to Traps to convince us that while this might not be our favorite Jaill record, it's our second favorite, and that alone puts it miles ahead of pretty much all of the other indie pop records out there. The secret weapon on That's How We Burn was "Thank Us Later" (which to this day, remains the most played tune in Andee's iTunes), which definitely ranks up there as one of our favorite pop jams ever. On Traps, that honor this time around ends up being a tie between album opener "Waste A Lot Of Things", and the record's final track "Stone Froze Mascot". "Waste A Lot Of Things" is a perfect slab of jangly indie pop, beholden to much of what came before, but so distinctive it could only be Jaill, a little surfy, a little indie rock, but the melodies, the vocals, the strange arrangements, the lush production, the impossible hooks and killer chorus. We'd been listening to that track nonstop, and it wasn't the first time we listened to the whole record all the way through, that we finally discovered "Stone Froze Mascot", which sounds like a weirdly new wavey dub version of a track from the first record, fuzzy synth low slung bassline, up-stroke guitar, hazy la la la background vocals, weird FX, the vocals dubbed out too in places, the whole thing so impossibly catchy, and yet still so weird.
And it's not just those bookends, with every listen, we discover a new favorite. "Everyone's A Bitch" is a current fave, all big guitar jangle, and chiming classic pop chorus, although "I'm Home" is another doozy, all off kilter and woozy but crazy catchy, and "Perfect Ten" a sort of stripped down sleeper hit, hell, we're on the verge of just going through the whole record song by song. New favorite pop record hands down, and the only record that's managed to bump the first Jaill or the recent Mrs Magician record, which is saying a LOT. Anyone who loved That's How We Burn, needs this, and anyone after some crazy catchy off-the-beaten-path slightly off kilter indie rock, you could not do better than this. Already secured a spot on some of our year end top ten lists, and it's only June!
Another entry in the ever expanding brooding epic post rock sweepstakes, and another winner. What can we say? We love this stuff. This one comes from the band Jakob, hailing from New Zealand of all places. And here we were thinking that New Zealand was all abstract noise, jangle pop and droning sludge. But these guys are none of those. Instead, they follow in the deeeeeep sonic footprints of bands like Mogwai, Isis, Godspeed and the like.
Darkly mesmerizing, slow building, melancholy and moody, slow shifting epics that build into explosive sonic climaxes. Jakob are not one of those metal / post rock hybrids, but they do get heavy, although instead of relying on just distorted guitars and downtuned chug, their heaviness results from melody and intensity, huge walls of chaotic guitar, dense with spaced out FX, whirled into roiling clouds of psychdrone freakout, a logical extension of the riff or melody that has been growing in intensity from the songs' very first hushed whisper.
To be totally honest, nothing here is mind blowing or never-heard-before, but these guys are so good, these songs so emotional and intense, the instrumentation so subtle and precise, the long builds so tense and harrowing, the explosion of sound at the songs' climax so furious and white hot, it almost does sound like something you've never heard before, these guys manage to make these sounds new and fresh, exhilarating, intense, epic and majestic....
Which is really all that matters.
2-on-1 reissue.
**SALE **SALE* *SALE**
Now part of that special $5 cd sale deal, so there's no excuse not to own a copy of this vintage heavy classic (even just to check it out if you haven't heard it before). Here's an expanded version of what we said about this when we first listed the cd version some years ago:
Newly remastered and reissued, the James Gang indeed "Rides Again", the title of this, their 2nd album, from 1970. Their first and third albums, Yer Album (1969) and Thirds (1971) have also received the same treatment, and we have 'em, but this is our favorite. Guitarist Joe Walsh (pre-Eagles, y'know) and his biker rock cronies Dale Peters and Jim Fox supply the famed '60s headbang "Funk #49" on this disc, along with extended musical suite "The Bomber" and some beautiful acoustic tunes mixed into the electric rawk. A classic indeed.
Also, does the lettering/logo on the cover look at all familiar? It should, to anyone with who has seen our aQ logo. Heh heh heh. That's how much we like this one...
Yet another one man band cooking up glorious batches of home brewed hazy garage-y dream pop, this one going by the curious name of Jameses, aka Adam Perry (yep, not James), and for a sound that is done to death on a daily basis, this guy manages to make us dig it all over again. A soft focus fuzz wrapped around super textured and ever shifting cascading sheets of pulsing, swirling heavily effected guitars, all wrapped around layered, overlapping melodies, anchored to some rumbling cloomy basslines, and peppered with yelped reverby vox. A little cold wave-y especially on the A side, while the B side gets even more washed out and druggy, a sort of fun house mirror / circus midway psych pop, rife with all manner of warped effects and seriously twisted production, all while managing to remain fantastically poppy and catchy.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
An early catalyst in the Sixties Hollywood scene, Bobby Jameson (Aka Chris Lucey) was the first Mayor of Sunset Boulevard before Kim Fowley and Rodney Bingenheimer and one of its most ravaged casualties. Connected with many of the scene's major and (sometimes tragic) players, Frank Zappa, Andrew Loog-Oldham, Tony Alamo, Pamela DeBarres and Diane Linkletter, Jameson is most remembered for swan-diving off of the Continental Hyatt House on Sunset Blvd. ina failed suicide attempt (i.e. publicity stunt) that broke both of his legs (Diane Linkletter, who was turned on to LSD by Jameson, made a more tragically sucessful leap shortly after.). His recorded output of three lps was marred by a myriad of industry pitfalls though his debut album shows him to be a strong and original song-writer in the Byrds / Dylan vein. Like the liner notes for this reissue state, it wasn't enough to save him from himself.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
After Comus' genius First Utterance record was re-released (soon, supposedly, to be re-re-released, with bonus tracks), this left Jan Dukes De Grey as THE missing seventies psych / prog / folk holy grail. And rightfully so. Originally released in 1971 (the year Allan has determined that almost every great seventies record was released, even though he was only two years old then), this record manages to be totally brilliant and absolutely absurd at the same time. It has much in common with the Comus record, super dramatic trilling vocals, frenzied acoustic guitars and manic bongos. But there the similarities end. Where Comus took those elements and created a harrowing pagan ritual, Jan Dukes De Grey take those same elements and embark on a freaked out prog journey into utter madness. Sweetly melodic flutes, acoustic guitars, and weirdly bombastic drumming are woven into a weird and wonderful lilting British folk, peppered with an ultra-memorable little arpeggiated guitar lick that you won't be able to get out of your head, pausing once for a fierce heavily strummed riff that sounds almost Sabbathy before resuming it's sweet folky journey. Then suddenly the whole thing is thrown into chaos by a brief splattery drum break, which the band emerges from in entirely different garb. An epic journey through angular, almost eighties sounding nowave skronk, damaged seventies prog, ultra twee psychfolk and avant jazz krautrock. Weaving wildly from sound to sound, muted duck like saxophone, super distorted acoustic guitar, warbling trumpets, manic bongos, soaring strings, fluttering flamenco sputter, employing a massive arsenal of instruments: violin, cello, zeldaphone (!), clarinet, recorder, chanter, harmonica, hunting horn, glockenspiel, as well as a 'clothes horse' contraption with a hanging flat drum, tabla, cymbal, chimes and Indian bells. And that's all in the first song! Twenty plus minutes of freaked out psych-prog-folk brilliance.
The second track sounds much more traditionally seventies British folk, but only compared to the first track. Jaunty and folky, occasionally dark and menacing, with bursts of maniacal strumming, and sweet vocal harmonies, before the band switches gears and belts out a wild klezmer folk-prog shuffle that sounds quite a bit like Uz Jsme Doma. The final track is a dense and relentless, heavy psychedelic swirl, with jagged wah guitars, throaty theatrical vocals and wild octopoidal Krupa-ish drumming, thumping tribal tom toms and sizzling cymbals. Phew.
Take a dash of Comus, a pinch of the Incredible String Band, a hint of Jethro Tull, a splash of Captain Beefheart, a drop of Uz Jsme Doma and a whole lot of LSD and shake vigorously! Liner notes by Current 93's David Tibet.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Finally available again, one of our favorite weirdo psych folk records EVER, reissued, with a whole 'nother record tacked on. The previously reviewed disc, Mice And Rats In The Loft, it definitely the reason to pick this up, the other record, the band's debut Sorcerers, is just a bonus. More on that one further down, first let's talk about the genius of Mice And Rats In The Loft:
After Comus' genius First Utterance record was re-released, this left Jan Dukes De Grey as THE missing seventies psych / prog / folk holy grail. And rightfully so. Originally released in 1971 (the year Allan has determined that almost every great seventies record was released, even though he was only two years old then), this record manages to be totally brilliant and absolutely absurd at the same time. It has much in common with the Comus record, super dramatic trilling vocals, frenzied acoustic guitars and manic bongos. But there the similarities end. Where Comus took those elements and created a harrowing pagan ritual, Jan Dukes De Grey take those same elements and embark on a freaked out prog journey into utter madness. Sweetly melodic flutes, acoustic guitars, and weirdly bombastic drumming are woven into a weird and wonderful lilting British folk, peppered with an ultra-memorable little arpeggiated guitar lick that you won't be able to get out of your head, pausing once for a fierce heavily strummed riff that sounds almost Sabbathy before resuming it's sweet folky journey. Then suddenly the whole thing is thrown into chaos by a brief splattery drum break, which the band emerges from in entirely different garb. An epic journey through angular, almost eighties sounding nowave skronk, damaged seventies prog, ultra twee psychfolk and avant jazz krautrock. Weaving wildly from sound to sound, muted duck like saxophone, super distorted acoustic guitar, warbling trumpets, manic bongos, soaring strings, fluttering flamenco sputter, employing a massive arsenal of instruments: violin, cello, zeldaphone (!), clarinet, recorder, chanter, harmonica, hunting horn, glockenspiel, as well as a 'clothes horse' contraption with a hanging flat drum, tabla, cymbal, chimes and Indian bells. And that's all in the first song! Twenty plus minutes of freaked out psych-prog-folk brilliance.
The second track sounds much more traditionally seventies British folk, but only compared to the first track. Jaunty and folky, occasionally dark and menacing, with bursts of maniacal strumming, and sweet vocal harmonies, before the band switches gears and belts out a wild klezmer folk-prog shuffle that sounds quite a bit like Uz Jsme Doma. The final track is a dense and relentless, heavy psychedelic swirl, with jagged wah guitars, throaty theatrical vocals and wild octopoidal Krupa-ish drumming, thumping tribal tom toms and sizzling cymbals. Phew.
Take a dash of Comus, a pinch of the Incredible String Band, a hint of Jethro Tull, a splash of Captain Beefheart, a drop of Uz Jsme Doma and a whole lot of LSD and shake vigorously!
As if that weren't enough, this double disc reissue tacks on the group's 1970 debut, Sorcerers, which while still quite cool, is not nearly as weird or rocking or proggy as the follow up, instead it's a heady slice of lysergic seventies acid folk, lots of acoustic guitars, fluttery flutes and of course, those acidy trilled Comus like vocals. Seems unfair to Sorcerers to pair it up with a record as mind blowing as Mice And Rats, but they do work well together, it's easy to hear the seeds in Sorcerers that would soon blossom into something much more twisted and gnarled and freaky. Definitely essential for folks into classic British sixties and seventies psych folk, and a great record, but odds are you'll probably find yourself gravitating toward Mice And Rats In The Loft anyway.
Either way, this set is way way way recommended! Includes all new liner notes, as well as the original album notes, newspaper clippings, and tons of super cool photos.
We've been experiencing something of a Jandek craze here at aQuarius as of late. Not that Houston's legendary loner went away or anything - it's just when you have 60+ albums to your name it can be possible to overwhelm anyone trying to write a review. Well, the last few Jandek releases have overwhelmed us in the best way imaginable, signifying another unexpected turn, this one towards more melodic group improvisations showing a heavy free/spiritual jazz influence with wandering piano melodies, sustained strings, clarinette, dramatic cymbal washes, and an overall sense of restraint that hasn't been really heard on Jandek records before. You get the impression that Jandek, handling the piano on this one, acts more as a conductor outlining the general direction for the songs and trusting his cast of supporting players to simply be themselves within the ensemble. The results are strikingly beautiful while somehow managing to remain classically Jandek-ian in their freewheeling execution.
Atlanta Saturday follows a similar path as the last two releases, Where Do You Go From Here and Maze Of The Phantom, though it predates them, having been recorded in 2007 at the Academy Of Medicine. The album is another beautifully subdued affair with plenty of breathing room and drawn out instrumentation. Who would have ever thought that the man responsible for unleashing one of the strangest careers (if you want to call it that) in modern music back in 1978 would have landed in such a peaceful sounding place three decades later? Of course, once the occasional vocals come in there will be no mistaking who this is, and the recent material appears to be the latest phase in the continuing saga. Again, the emphasis here seems to be on the group dynamic and the songs gel together into one gigantic harmonious whole. If you dug the previous few albums, or possibly even the recent slew of Anton Batagov releases we have been going crazy for, then you will definitely want this one.
There's two things that even people who haven't heard Jandek's music, but have heard of him, know: the mysterious Texas-based "singer/songwriter" is (or, was) even more reclusive than J.D. Salinger, and is VERY prolific, issuing recordings every few months on this own Corwood Industries label, going way back to the late '70s! But now that he's come out of his shell just a bit and taken to actually playing live shows, the former quality of reclusiveness has been shaken (just a little bit), yet on the other hand he's easily able to add even MORE to his already vast discography, by issuing live albums of course. This is his fourth live album, and 48th release overall! Austin Sunday is a double disc documenting his performance at the Scottish Rite Theater in Austin, TX on August 28th, 2005. "The representative from Corwood" (as Jandek likes to be billed) played electric guitar and sang, in his usual unique style, and was accompanied by a pick-up band of local musicians from the indie/improv scene: Juan Garcia on bass and two drummers -- Nick Hennies (of Weird Weeds) and Chris Cogburn. Jandek brought new lyrics along, and then (we assume) he and the band improvised. It gets into some fairly "rockin'" territory, by Jandek standards, if we can even say that about something this haunting and abstract sounding... creepy and weird. "Run away, run away, and don't like me."
If there's a single Jandek record to own, I would strongly recommend this one. "The Blue Corpse" has long been my favorite album from this Texan recluse, and stands as a rare moment of clarity within his typically willful obliteration of blues and folk standards. While there has been no support to such claims from the tightly lipped Corwood Industries, I have to agree with the theory postulated by Seth Tisue (who runs a fantastic Jandek website at http://tisue.net/jandek/) that this album is the aftermath of the breakup between Jandek and the woman known as Nancy who was featured prominently on previous records. While the obvious fact that she never appears on later album lends itself to this theory, the lyrical content -- which is the least obtuse of all of the Jandek records -- is the strongest evidence to Tisue's claim. From 'Your Other Man,' Jandek morosely resigns himself to his fate as a jilted lover: "Well, I guess your mind's made up / Well, I guess there's not much left to do / Go on, see your other man / Walk up the stairs / That's where the stars are / Go on, see your other man." The recurring themes of religion, travelogues, and numbers found on other records have been put on hold for "The Blue Corpse" which constantly returns to citations of killing time, falling into the river, and pining for lost love. Jandek's naturally melacholic wisp of a voice mopes through each of these songs, presenting itself as an embodiment of his internal gloom. Of course, these could be allegorical fictions and metaphoric dramas. Musically, there is also a considerable change in the Jandek approach on "The Blue Corpse" as his solo guitar work is principally acoustic and actually follows recognizably folkish chord progressions. All in all, "The Blue Corpse" makes for a fantastic album.
