On their third cd release for Absolutely Kosher these five East Bay fellows take us in a new direction. On Picks Us Apart, they move further away from their earlier prominent Slint / Mogwai influences. They've replaced their past post-rock loud-quiet leanings with gentle pop song structures comprised of decidedly sweet sensitive boy vocals, strummy multi-layered guitars reminiscent of mid-to-late '80s The Cure. Although some might be a little disappointed that they've chosen a different path, others will surely find that the band are just as adept at crafting a solid pop tune as they are at weaving an atmospheric soundscape. In fact, it struck us that these days they've more aligned themselves with the charming indie pop likes of Pinback and Death Cab For Cutie.
Brimming with confidence and charm, it's the Jim Yoshii Pile-Up. These bay area boys have brought forth their first full-length of sensitive, lovely quiet-quiet-loud music that's leaps and bounds from their first release (the self-released self-titled ep from 1999). Polished, pretty, and appropriately titled - the album at times shimmers like frosty morning air and at others, glows like the welcome warmth of a hearth. Never ones to shy away from showing their appreciation of their faves Mogwai, the JYPU draw inspiration from and comparisons to those Glaswegians, as well as Slint and Low.
"Homemade Drugs" finds Jim Yoshii Pile-Up leaving behind overt quiet/loud dynamics to focus mostly on the quiet. Less Slint-y angularity, more slowly building post-rock beauty, developed through delicate three-guitar interplay and liquidly gorgeous vocals. These days, you can have your emo-tional pop in an MTV-ready pretty boy package, but (pretty though they may be) Jim Yoshii come across as much more honest than all that. So honest, in fact, that it's almost wrong to listen in on these tales of intimacy and heartbreak. Their tendency to turn their backs to the audience when playing live seems appropriate; wearing your heart on your sleeve just isn't conducive to being in-your-face. But don't be fooled by all my talk of sensitivity. These boys can rock hard when they want to, as moments of "Homemade Drugs" prove before being subsumed by more subdued melodies- which I guess would reflect the presence of quiet/loud dynamics, wouldn't it? Still, the overall feeling of this album is firmly in the realm of the contemplative, personal and melancholy. Really, really nice.
Dubliners The Jimmy Cake return with record number two and we're happy to report it is even better than the first. Their debut "Brains" was a gorgeous, bittersweet collection of post rock epics, rhythmic and langorous, lush and dreamy, bringing to mind Mogwai, Godspeed and Arab Strap. "Dublin Gone. Everybody Dead." finds the lineup expanded, the sound even more lush and expansive, and probably most surprising/exciting, a new found aggressiveness that really highlights the band's mastery of mood and dynamics. Loping minor key rhythms build and build, layers of sorrowful strings and weepy accordion add density as riffs stretch out into droning epic jams. Gorgeous finger-picked guitars and free noise/jazz interludes add to the melee as the songs twist and turn and struggle for air, horns skronk, guitars feed back. Instrumental cinematic soundscapes writhe and heave, palpitate and pulsate, building into crescendos of staccato minor key blasts. Really intense and beautiful. Some weird mix of AQ faves Magyar Posse, Hwyl Nofio, Godpeed You Black Emperor, and the Tindersticks, but with a jagged edge that keeps the melancholia and gloominess sharp and prickly instead of dull and overwrought. So so good.
MPEG Stream: "The Width Of The Black" [/audio/jimmywidth.m3u]
Aaaah, thought you'd heard all the post rock you could possibly need? Hold yer horses, 'cause up pops The Jimmy Cake with an albumful of very pleasingly pretty, and most importantly, original post-rock. This sizeable Scottish ensemble spill lush washes of
Hard to believe it's been 6 years since we last heard from Ireland's The Jimmy Cake. Back in 2002, we were heavily digging their second record, Dublin Gone. Everybody Dead., which found the band getting more and more aggressive. Their sound went from a drifty post rock to a dense blend of Godspeed, Magyar Posse, Explosions In The Sky, Salvatore, Hwyl Nofio, long sweeping epics, sweeping vistas of cinematic sound peppered with intense crescendos and stretches of free jazz freakout.
Six years later, the band has really mellowed out, harkening back to their debut, Brains, but with even more of an emphasis on the cinematic side of things. Utilizing an unlikely arsenal of instruments (at least for an ostensibly 'rock' band), clarinet, trumpet, saxophone, piano synths and accordion along with the usual guitar bass and drums, the band use the piano as the focal point, crafting swirling slow building epics, that really do sound like music pulled from some strange indie soundtrack. It's all instrumental too, so it's easy to hear bits of the Tindersticks, the Dirty 3, Arab Strap, in the Jimmy Cake's melancholy moodiness. The horns are used more for texture and drone out in dark harmonies, the guitars are spidery and minimal, the drums often a subtle shuffle, the gorgeous blend of strings and horns and accordions afford each track a distinct grandness that glows regally. Another definite reference point is the Rachel's, the sound is distinctly chamber music-esque, but set in a more post rock context. Think the Drift, old Tarentel, very evocative and strangely Eastern European in places, with some more experimental tracks of long shimmery dronemusic and drifting harmonics here and there, separating the more (almost) rocking tracks, as a whole creating the perfect imaginary soundtrack for a movie filled with dark moonlit nights, lonely strolls, cobblestone streets, rolling hills, grey skies, rain against windows, and brief bits of sunlight. Lovely.
Picked this album up at a garage sale as a kid, just 'cause of the crazy cover art, and have been a big fan ever since. Here it is reissued on vinyl, a definite '70s funk classic (from '72 to be precise), Jimmy's freakiest by far, stuff that could have made Funkadelic proud, both fuzzy and funky and a little Latin too. Or as we've said before about a Castor comp, "for fans of early Kool & the Gang, Parliament, B.T. Express, that sort of thing, but the best stuff here's got a dosed and primordial edge unlike anything else excavated from the early '70s era." And that "best stuff" is mostly all here on It's Just Begun. The title track is a heavy acid funk freakout, then there's the cave man classic "Troglodyte", and the trippy vibes of "L.T.D. (Life, Truth, Death)", and more... And it's all wrapped in that awesome, astrologically symbolic cover painting (featuring a slum building, in a wasteland, with not one but two giant Jimmy Castors looming over it, alongside a floating armored egg, tubes and troglodytes). There's an explanation of all the images' significance to be found on the back cover, dig it.
The music of major label mainstream emo bands such as Jimmy Eat World has been scientifically formulated for maximum appeal -- sorta like a Cola or maybe Cheetos. Its target? Primarily teenagers everywhere. Reaching its sharp hooks out to both male and female listeners with fist-pumping angst anthemics and heartstring-pullin' sentiments respectively, these songs speak straight at the young adult. However some post-teens do fall into the crosshairs every so often... uh, like Andee and Cup! Lead singer Jim Adkins bares his heart in the most earnest fashion articulating hopeful crushes, shattering heartaches and unrequited love. Totally Hollywood teen movie soundtrack perfect.
Something about Sweden that just breeds suave irresistible pop. JJ are a duo we've been hearing a lot about, but their records had been hard to come by stateside. Luckily Secretly Canadian has released their latest, No.3, domestically, so we can all catch the soft sonic breeze their subtle and exquisite songs offer. Imagine Saint Etienne or Everything But The Girl doing Red House Painters covers, or Beach House or Taken By Trees interpreting Sade, and you start to get an idea of the dreamy world of JJ. It's not an immediately catchy record, but one that with repeated listens totally wreathes you in a soft haze and lilting seduction that just feels so damn good. Another one of those records just made for Sunday mornings, as there is something so comforting about its ease and dreaminess. Very nice!
We had been hearing about this record for ages, mostly that it was the best thing Justin Broadrick had done since Godflesh! Which would be discounting everything he'd done as Jesu, much of which we hold near and dear, so while we're actually inclined to agree with the above sentiment, it might be more accurate to say that, besides Jesu, which is an entirely different beast, we haven't dug a Broadrick project this much since the days of classic Godflesh. Which makes sense really. The first hint was the name, Broadrick having resurrected a name he used back in the Techno Animal days, and in fact, JK Flesh reminds us a lot more of Techno Animal than Godflesh. The jams here all remind us of the kind of weirdo experimental electronic stuff Broadrick was doing on the side, when he was still doing Godflesh. The sort of jams that you'd hear on some obscure comp alongside Alec Empire, or Porter Ricks or Spectre or Scorn, if you remember those Macro Dub Infection comps from back in the day (if not, you should track them down, they are incredible!) or remember any of the more obscure Broadrick alter-egos, Curse Of The Golden Vampire, the Sidewinder, Techno Animal of course, especially the opening track on Posthuman, which lays down a spare lurching beat over buzzing droned out guitars, and features some super intense heavily effected vokills that sound unlike anything else we've heard from Broadrick. And instead of being heavy, it's more a sort of brooding malevolence, a hypnotic lumber that borders on some sort of industrial demonic dub. And had the whole record sounded like that, we would have been just fine. But the other thing we'd been hearing about JK Flesh, is that it was like Godflesh, but with dubstep beats, which may have had some folks crying foul, it actually sounded pretty goddamn good to us, and we're happy to report that it does in fact sound about as good as we imagined it would.
The same sonic template as the opening track for the most part, but with distinctly dubstep beats, and the thing is, it totally works, the dubstep element really becomes secondary, as Broadrick unfurls some of his fiercest and heaviest guitar work in ages, his vocals a thick, hellish bellow, far removed from the shouty vocals that marred the last few Godflesh records, this is some sick, fierce, and yeah, slightly groovy heaviness. But think how radical the drum machine driven Godflesh was back in the day, playing alongside all these crusty grind bands and straight up metal bands, that actually translates pretty well to the now, with JK Flesh, melding that sort of crusty chugging heaviness to a more modern beat. The first few tracks really don't even really get dubsteppy at all, instead, seeming to ease the listener into this brave new world, two massive slabs of massive downtuned machine-doom heaviness that kills. It's not until "Devoured" that things get crazy, when the beat is actually skittery, sounding a bit like Clubroot remixing Godflesh, which is obviously not a bad thing AT ALL. The title track too, is all manic skitter, wreathed in an impossibly thick gristly patina of crumbling super distorted buzz, and it's a crazy killer mix. The sort of thing that just might have metalheads tempted to poke their heads out onto the dancefloor, but should most definitely have the dancefloor heaving, with what is essentially some of THEE heaviest dubstep EVER. "Earthmover" introduces some of that blown out bass wobble, but it's mostly lost amidst all the churning metallic riffery and squalls of effects. The record finishes with another weird one, a good bookend for that opener, a sort of abject creeping doom dirge, driven by a skittery beat, but not so overtly dubsteppy, instead, a pounding lumbering lurch, with some seriously sick vokills, and while there is a kind of drop, it turns into something much more washed out and psychedelic, with clean vocals, and thick washed out guitars, the result sort of dreamy and druggy, and a little bit like a darker noisier heavier Jesu.
For those of you, like us, who always found yourselves way more into Broadrick's extracurricular sonic activities, this is a no brainer, it pushes all our Techno Animal buttons big time, but it definitely is the closest thing we've heard to Godflesh in a while, but still different enough to be fresh and exciting. Needless to say, this totally rules, and is WAY WAY WAY recommended (& anyone who digs Necro Deathmort, in particular, should check this out).
Now on vinyl. Here's the cd review from a few lists back:
We've been hearing quite a lot of buzz and hype surrounding this New York outfit led by Joan Wasser, who has been playing music in one form or another since she was 8 years old. Along the way she's paid her dues playing in the Damnbuilders, and some lesser known bands in the '90s who featured some soon to be big name indie rockers like Mary Timony and Al Larson (Shudder To Think) and she has played violin for everyone from Antony & The Johnsons to Rufus Wainwright, Lou Reed to the Scissor Sister and even Sheryl Crow. The combination of those folks' music gives a sort-of-snapshot as to what to expect from Joan As Policewoman. Sounding a little bit like a more sweeping and orchestral version of Feist, this is a record sure to have a wide appeal and with good reason. With a very likable voice and strong instrumentation this will for sure hit the spot for folks waiting god knows how long until Fiona Apple comes out with another record. Oh and keeping up his very busy guest appearance schedule, Antony (of Antony & The Johnsons) adds his always stunning voice to one track on Real Life as well. And the first batch of these we got comes with a bonus disc of b-sides which includes a Bowie cover and a song dedicated to Condoleezza Rice. Weird.
We've been hearing quite a lot of buzz and hype surrounding this New York outfit led by Joan Wasser, who has been playing music in one form or another since she was 8 years old. Along the way she's paid her dues playing in the Damnbuilders, and some lesser known bands in the '90s who featured some soon to be big name indie rockers like Mary Timony and Al Larson (Shudder To Think) and she has played violin for everyone from Antony & The Johnsons to Rufus Wainwright, Lou Reed to the Scissor Sister and even Sheryl Crow. The combination of those folks' music gives a sort-of-snapshot as to what to expect from Joan As Policewoman. Sounding a little bit like a more sweeping and orchestral version of Feist, this is a record sure to have a wide appeal and with good reason. With a very likable voice and strong instrumentation this will for sure hit the spot for folks waiting god knows how long until Fiona Apple comes out with another record. Oh and keeping up his very busy guest appearance schedule, Antony (of Antony & The Johnsons) adds his always stunning voice to one track on Real Life as well. And the first batch of these we got comes with a bonus disc of b-sides which includes a Bowie cover and a song dedicated to Condoleezza Rice. Weird.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Well, once we got past the first few tracks (that included a mildly annoying song about fucking strangers and a recording of a child singing some '70s ballad) things settled into quite a nice spartan mellowness for this posthumous Joan of Arc EP. Seemingly
Okay, so what's goin' on with Joan Of Arc? Shortly after the release of their last album The Gap a couple of years ago, they officially called it quits. Then less than a year later providing a little more closure, there was a posthumous cdep. It seems though that there's something in the water that makes Kinsella bros' bands come back to life. Case in point? Another of their early combos, The Owls were quickly ressurrected filling the postrock-y emo space vacated by JOA. Now, this new cd has surfaced. Yes, they're back -- sounding quite refreshed we might add, but much more subdued and controlled. The somewhat tedious jazzy noodling and intrusive experimentations on The Gap have been honed and better encorporated into the big picture. There's a nicely arranged interplay between the soft, emotive vocals, gently meandering keyboards and guitars. Pleasing, delicate post-rock. Welcome back JOA.
Gastr Del Sol meets Red House Painters, or maybe The Promise Ring. Either way, kinda pretentious and not quite intelligent enough to know when to stop the 'avant-garde' noodling. And, the record is named after The Gap.
Since Slumberland reinvigorated itself in 2008, we've been amazed at the number of bands that have landed deals with the label that really sound EXACTLY like what we would expect from somebody on Slumberland back circa 1992. Delightfully imperfect indie-pop songwriting, raucously shoegazed blur, and candy-colored lunchbox punk-rock all have come through the recent roster of Slumberland's bands, with the Welsh quintet Joanna Gruesome quite up to the task of carrying on this impressive tradition that began with the Lilys (amongst countless others) and continues through Veronica Falls (amongst many noble contemporaries).
Peanut Butter is a sparkplug of a second album by aQ faves Joanna Gruesome, making up for its manic punk-pop sprint of merely 21 minutes with more tempo and time changes than we can really count. They may not clock the amount of mathematical tumblings that gave credence to P.E.E.'s willful attempt to craft songs entirely out of the bridges; but it still makes for one hell of a great album of quick-change artistry that takes the sweetie-pie pop of Heavenly crashing into the turbulent (if non-threateningly cute) noise-rock of Boyracer. Lead vocalist Alanna McArdle can stop on a dime from her ethereal, swoonsome vocals into a bloodcurdling snarl, alongside the rest of the band as they unleash their splinters of guitar noise and crushworthy pop narcotic riffs. Recommended, of course!
Do we forgive them for the band name? Supposedly, this is a riff on the beloved avant-folk songstress Joanna Newsom, to which we have to ask "What the fuck, Joanna Gruesome? Really? What did Ms. Newsom ever do to you?" Sure, we've lauded the benefit / curse of having a laughably, ridiculously bad name; and this one may be nearing the top of the list, just 'cuz we can't think of a single reason why this band name should exist. But here it is, and fuck if Joanna Gruesome's sound doesn't completely right shine through their questionable moniker. In the best possible light, the name is an awkward commentary on the awkwardness of being an awkward indie-dork who is enduring the awkward growth spurts of late-teendom and who somehow has figured out to play guitar, bash drums, and sing harmonies in spite of the gangly legs and stubborn baby fat. This five piece hails from Wales, and couldn't have found a better home than Slumberland Records, which they share not only with current indie pop darlings Veronica Falls but also stalwarts of the fuzz-pop jangle like The Aislers Set and Black Tambourine. The songs on Weird Sister have a brilliantly schizoid ability to shift in style without sounding out of place at all (belying that awkward teen gangliness, mentioned earlier), with a dreamy, bubblegum pop-punk vibe that crashes into a riotous, overblown riff, sounding like a Veronica Falls vocal harmony smashed into a sugarsmacked noise-pop tune from the Swirlies, one of America's finest forgotten answers to My Bloody Valentine from back in the '90s. Vocalist Alanna McArdle (formerly of Evans The Death, fyi), alternates between the coy harmonizing chanteuse and the charmingly beligerent riot-grrl brat. Come by on a Saturday afternoon here at aQuarius, and the chances are this will be on the stereo. Yeah, a noise-pop classic for fuck's sake!
Second album (duh) from this Norwegian rock band led by a former Turbonegro roadie. We did like their first one, Sideman, quite a bit, but this one seems a bit too poppy and polished for us, this time out. It's just awkwardly balanced on the cusp of cool '80s retro (Hacienda-era Factory bands could be what they're going for) and maybe not so cool '80s retro (The Fixx?), with a definite nod to more modern radio-friendly fare of the Britpop persuasion. Spiritualized might be one comparison. So, the spacey, psychedelic elements we dug about the debut aren't totally gone, but it's hardly the Floyd/MBV/Spacemen Three styled trip we were hoping for based on the successes of Sideman. Check out the sound clips, though, if you liked the poppier parts of that album.
Jester (the unclassifiable Norwegian record label run by frontman Garm of the formerly but no longer black metal band Ulver) has rapidly become one of our favorite labels, what with releases by When, Ulver, Arcturus, Rotoscope, Esperanza, Bogus Blimp, Single
We've been fans of Jobriath (nee Bruce Wayne Campbell) for a while now. Back in the '70s, he was billed as the world's first openly gay pop star. Or, rather, would-be pop star, as his career was a commercial failure, though he's now a cult figure (tragically, he died in 1983, a victim of AIDS). Glammy and campy (no shit), Jobriath, who was a classically trained pianist and singer, had a pop persona that was part David Bowie, part Elton John, part Mick Jagger, maybe a little Alice Cooper too. He made complicated, cabaret-ready Rundgren-esque pop, with plenty of keyboard chops, and no little drama. He really should have been huge, but it didn't happen. Too much hype, or homophobia, who knows?
His two major label flops, released in '73 and '74 on Elektra, and reissued a few years ago, are again currently both out of print. But, now there's this, for fans and other potentially interested parties. An archival collection of rare, previously unreleased Jobriath music, recorded in '71 prior to those two records! As The River Flows is certainly less produced than those later, big-budget albums, but aren't completely rough demos either. It does contain early versions of two songs that later appeared on his official debut, "Inside" and his anthem "I'maman", in more stripped-down arrangements, alongside a whole bunch of Jobraith compositions never heard before, enough to really make this constitute a "lost" Jobriath album.
There's a street-level vibe to this, what with frantic opener "Amazing Dope Tales" for instance - the sordid side of NYC in the '70s definitely being Jobriath's milieu. He's got a band and backup singers here, but naturally his voice and keyboard playing take center stage. Sometimes with melancholic piano balladry a la Elton John, sometimes with honkytonk glee, Jobriath getting all Jerry Lee Lewis on us. But no matter what, regardless of style, these songs have got that special Jobriath edge to 'em, his performance one of both pathos and panache.
Fans should be excited about this, of course, but since his other albums are out of print, it's also the only available entree to his oeuvre for noobs, too, who should be commended for taking the plunge. Includes lyrics, credits, and photos, but there's unfortunately no liner notes, nothing about the story behind these recordings, which would have been cool, oh well, though otherwise it's a nicely done package.
As you might expect from "the world's first openly gay rock star" (or make that would-be rock star), the music of seventies singer Jobraith is pretty darn glammy and campy, a blend of '70s hard rock histrionics and even more overtly showtune tendencies (Jobraith had performed on Broadway, actually, in the musical Hair, and was also a trained classical pianist), full of over-the-top pop and not-so-ambiguous sexuality.
He's part David Bowie (very much David Bowie!), part Marc Bolan, part Elton John, part Mick Jagger, even part Bee Gees (that high voice)... You can hear all that for yourself on these two new cd reissues of Jobraith's two Elektra albums, his notoriously overhyped self-titled debut from 1973 and its '74 follow-up, Creatures Of The Street. We'd gotten familiar with Jobraith via an earlier collection, Lonely Planet Boy, which featured songs selected from these two records, but it's nice to hear 'em in their entirety, and it turns out that comp missed out on a few of the many gems to be found among Jobraith's compositions.
Unfortunately the Jobraith story is a tragic one, his career fizzling after these two albums (both expensive flops), his brushes with fame always far-fetched and fleeting, Jobraith ultimately dying in obscurity, a victim of the AIDS epidemic, in 1983... though about ten years later, according the the story recounted in the liner notes, Morrissey tried to find Jobraith to take him on tour, unaware that he'd passed away long before.
So, while in retrospect there's for sure a patina of sadness over Jobraith's music, it's better tribute perhaps to Jobraith's memory to enjoy these albums in the fun, flamboyant spirit in which they were intended.
Both albums have their merits, we don't know if we could choose between 'em. The debut boasts the oh-so-Bowie "Space Clown", along with the piano-ballad bombast of "Be Still" (somewhere, this MUST have been a hit). You can party down to the proto-disco prog of "World Without End" or the funky "Earthling", and rock out to the fuzzy "Rock Of Ages" or the braggadocious "I'm A Man". There's also a bunch more piano-y crooner tunes on the softer side: "Inside", "Blow Away", and "Movie Queen", all quite good (the latter, quite, umm, gay as well).
Creatures Of The Street perhaps veers even further into campy, cabaret territory than the debut (or maybe it's just that "Dietrich/Fondyke" is so much that way) but also offers up a fair bit of rockin' and also just plain weirdness. At times we're reminded of Sparks, and one of the best tracks here is a folky, quirky, quite catchy number entitled "Scumbag"! Other standouts include melodramatic opener "Heartbeat" and the walk on the wild side that is "Street Corner Love". As with the debut, there's plenty of piano, plenty of orchestration, and plenty of drama... The image/identity conscious Jobraith was always striking poses, both on album covers and in his lyrics.
While the world wasn't ready for Jobraith back in the '70s (even though his music is oh-so-'70s), obviously we've come a long way since then. Jobraith's excesses can be forgiven (those of his management too) and his cult status can only grow, as his actual music is still quite a kick. Heck I was in a bar the other night and the DJ was playing "I'm A Man"! Good to have these both individually reissued on cd at last, with liner notes by Ritchie Unterberger (author of, among other things, the excellent Unknown Legends Of Rock n' Roll, which didn't include Jobraith but probably should have).
As you might expect from "the world's first openly gay rock star" (or make that would-be rock star), the music of seventies singer Jobraith is pretty darn glammy and campy, a blend of '70s hard rock histrionics and even more overtly showtune tendencies (Jobraith had performed on Broadway, actually, in the musical Hair, and was also a trained classical pianist), full of over-the-top pop and not-so-ambiguous sexuality.
He's part David Bowie (very much David Bowie!), part Marc Bolan, part Elton John, part Mick Jagger, even part Bee Gees (that high voice)... You can hear all that for yourself on these two new cd reissues of Jobraith's two Elektra albums, his notoriously overhyped self-titled debut from 1973 and its '74 follow-up, Creatures Of The Street. We'd gotten familiar with Jobraith via an earlier collection, Lonely Planet Boy, which featured songs selected from these two records, but it's nice to hear 'em in their entirety, and it turns out that comp missed out on a few of the many gems to be found among Jobraith's compositions.
Unfortunately the Jobraith story is a tragic one, his career fizzling after these two albums (both expensive flops), his brushes with fame always far-fetched and fleeting, Jobraith ultimately dying in obscurity, a victim of the AIDS epidemic, in 1983... though about ten years later, according the the story recounted in the liner notes, Morrissey tried to find Jobraith to take him on tour, unaware that he'd passed away long before.
So, while in retrospect there's for sure a patina of sadness over Jobraith's music, it's better tribute perhaps to Jobraith's memory to enjoy these albums in the fun, flamboyant spirit in which they were intended.
Both albums have their merits, we don't know if we could choose between 'em. The debut boasts the oh-so-Bowie "Space Clown", along with the piano-ballad bombast of "Be Still" (somewhere, this MUST have been a hit). You can party down to the proto-disco prog of "World Without End" or the funky "Earthling", and rock out to the fuzzy "Rock Of Ages" or the braggadocious "I'm A Man". There's also a bunch more piano-y crooner tunes on the softer side: "Inside", "Blow Away", and "Movie Queen", all quite good (the latter, quite, umm, gay as well).
Creatures Of The Street perhaps veers even further into campy, cabaret territory than the debut (or maybe it's just that "Dietrich/Fondyke" is so much that way) but also offers up a fair bit of rockin' and also just plain weirdness. At times we're reminded of Sparks, and one of the best tracks here is a folky, quirky, quite catchy number entitled "Scumbag"! Other standouts include melodramatic opener "Heartbeat" and the walk on the wild side that is "Street Corner Love". As with the debut, there's plenty of piano, plenty of orchestration, and plenty of drama... The image/identity conscious Jobraith was always striking poses, both on album covers and in his lyrics.
While the world wasn't ready for Jobraith back in the '70s (even though his music is oh-so-'70s), obviously we've come a long way since then. Jobraith's excesses can be forgiven (those of his management too) and his cult status can only grow, as his actual music is still quite a kick. Heck I was in a bar the other night and the DJ was playing "I'm A Man"! Good to have these both individually reissued on cd at last, with liner notes by Ritchie Unterberger (author of, among other things, the excellent Unknown Legends Of Rock n' Roll, which didn't include Jobraith but probably should have).
Jim Jocoy's unnarrated book of photos, never published before this year, is an amazing collection of images captured in and during San Francisco and LA's fertile punk scene of '78-'80. Taken spontaneously at clubs, the images show youths dressed to the nines in all the leopard print, skinny jeans, and eyeliner you can handle. Aquarius is super proud to be hosting Jocoy's first San Francisco event celebrating the publication of his photos. Meanwhile, enjoy his book. Here's what others have said:
"Buildings crumble; social signifiers fissure and evaporate. This much is forever; art students simultaneously discovering perceived oppression and thrift-store shoppong. Maybe that's why We're Desperate packs such timeless reverb. As a student living in San Francisco in the late '70s, Jocoy reported from the front line of the burgeoning punk scene by training his eye on the fans. Using a camera purchased at a garage sale, Jocoy photographed scenesters posed against club walls, capturing their ripped nylons, pegged jeans, leather jackets, and vinyl anything. Bookended by an introduction by Marc Jacobs, who has repeatedly referenced the era's Converse-and-logo-tee aesthetic, and a tender elegy by Exene Cervenka, of L.A. punk band X fame. These are DIY Star Search episodes played to one hand clapping, lasting shots from a short runway." ÏV Magazine
"...the longer you look...the more you begin to see what it took to remake yourself as a freak, as a social idiot, as someone you weren't meant to be.... soon enough, you're seeing real people everywhere." ÏGreil Marcus' Real Life Rock Top 10, Salon.com
What might you expect from a band made up of two parts Khanate, and one part Isis / Grey Machine / House Of Low Culture? Probably nothing as pretty and haunting as this. That's right, we said pretty. We were definitely expecting some crushing slo-mo heaviness, figured if that much of Khanate was involved it would have to be screechy and torturous.
And while Jodis is doomy, it's also moody, and atmospheric, slow and spare, spacious and strangely lovely. Occasionally the guitars rev up and get way louder, and it sounds like the band might explode into some sort of bellowing dirge, but instead, they sprawl into an ominous creep, the guitars shimmery, the notes spaced way out, as much about the decay and overtones as the initial note or the overall melody. The vocals are weary and washed out, reverbed and down in the mix. If anything this reminds us of some classic slowcore, maybe Codeine or Seam, albeit a little more abstract, a little less indie rock, but the same sort of moody drift, the same kind of minimal melody, emotional and dark and haunting and dreamlike.
Surprisingly, the drums are super restrained, in fact, the first few tracks sound almost drumless, minus a few cymbal shimmers, some flares and accents here and there. On "Secret House" the drums are active, flurries of fills all over the kit, but not for bombast, again for texture, almost like playing chords on the drums, there are some harsh vox on "Secret House", and they almost sound out of place, disrupting the strange slow tranquility. But once we move on to the next track, we're back to that gauzy melodic drift, the drums again super skeletal, the guitar drifting in the ether, the vocals choral, almost monk-like, super meditative and ethereal.
And the rest of the record plays out in a similar fashion, long drawn out slow burning epics writ small, the three exploring the space around the notes, finishing off with the gorgeous 9 minute "Slivers", the guitar unfurling a fuzzy blurry drone, the drums more active, a bit tribal, but still muted, and the vocals a falsetto off in the distance, the track, heaving and pulsing and shimmering, before slipping into a more abstract drone and then blinking out.
Some seriously gorgeous stuff, a surprise new favorite for sure, getting lots of play late at night, lights turned low, consciousness at rest, on the cusp of some other plane...
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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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THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Founding member of the Kitchen Motors arts organization in Reykjavik, Johann Johannsson has been at the forefront of adventurous music in Iceland, performing with the Apparat Organ Ensemble and working with some of the more acclaimed Icelandic exports (i.e. members of Sigur Ros, Mum, Stilluppsteypa, Halfer Trio, etc.). "Englaborn" is the first album for Johannsson, who reconstructed this album from the score he wrote for the stage play by Havar Sigurjonsson. Johannsson stated that "The play is extremely violent and disturbing; and basically, when faced with the script, I decided to work against it as much as possible and just try to write the most beautiful music I could." While we do not have the benefit of witnessing the play itself or any images for that matter (beautiful Jon Wozencroft photographs of the sea grace the cover of this album), Johannsson invokes a profound sadness through his descending chord progressions for the Epos Spring Quartet which he augments with spartan use of percussion, electronics, piano, computerized voices, and harmonium. Where Sigur Ros has crafted grandiose operas of Icelandic melancholia, Johann Johannsson simplifies his scores into poignant short stories that nevertheless resonate with those emotions.
Dunno what happened here, but Johann Johannsson totally blows it on Fordlandia. His previous records had tip-toed around the ideas of big Hollywood filmscores, exaggerating the emotional rigor to describe the banal, or composing quietly sad scores to counterpoint a hyperviolent play. But here, the Icelander goes for a full-on melodramatic orchestration, something that would make for the big crescendo on a Jerry Bruckheimer film. Amidst the massive string symphony, some Guitar Hero wannabe rockstar dons the role of The Edge with some tricked out delay appreggiation on his politely 'artful' riffs. Is this supposed to be ironic? Ugh.
The Icelandic composer Johann Johannsson has now signed to 4AD, after a couple of mighty fine albums released through Touch; and 4AD is certainly the right outlet for this album, as Johannson's grandiose scores for orchestral arrangements, vocal chorales, and electronics enjoys the same weighty sentimentality heard in many a Dead Can Dance or This Mortal Coil album. Lush, cinematic, and utterly dramatic, this album curiously is not a soundtrack (although it has all of the repeating leitmotifs and syrupy pathos of a big budget Hollywood film of the tragic / romantic genre); rather Johannsson contextualizes all of these majestic, post-classical elements as a tribute to the IBM 1401, a state of the art computer from 1960. The computer came with a audio training manual from which he culled samples about the machine's maintenance. While some of the exchanges of Michael Nyman-esque orchestral phrases with the authoritarian vocals from the manual are quite interesting, the album is wholly saccharine in scope, rendering whatever nostalgia for technologies past as something of a quaint detour from the orchestral bombast.
A reissue of the 2004 album Virdulegu Forsetar from Iceland's post-classical composer Johann Johannsson. Since the release of this album, Johannsson has jumped from Touch to 4AD, with international acclaim following right along. Virdulegu Forsetar is an hour long piece written for 11 brass players (trumpets, horns, tuba), percussion (Glockenspiel and bells), electronics, organs and piano. Virdulegu is all brooding, slow building, minor key, cinematic epic. Warm and lush, rich with harmonic overtones, and melodically very grandiose. The sounds here are very visual and definitely bring to mind vast expanses of land or space, whether it's the sun slowly rising over the desert, the moon peeking from behind a planet, a slowly spiralling galaxy, and even the Olympics. Huh? Yep, the Olympics. The melodies and instrumentation are quite similar to the fanfares used during the opening ceremonies, or over montages of past Olympiads, lovely nonetheless. And of course much darker and dronier than any of the music actually used for the Olympics. Each epic fanfare / flourish dissipates into a rumbling subterranean drone, where it hovers and slowly shifts until another fanfare surfaces in it's place, shines briefly, only to quickly sink back into the inky darkness.
Sitar raga music from Sweden? Sure! On the Swedish label Kning Disk, who last brought us cds by Wolf Eyes and James Blackshaw -- so we'd expect just about anything (interesting) from them. Composer/arranger Jerry Johansson is a sitar player (who studied with sitar master Roop Verma, who was taught by Ravi Shankar). Here he presents his piece "Next Door Conversation", in two parts, 53 minutes total. His sitar is the lead instrument, and in traditional style he's accompanied by santour and tambura -- but also by a violin/violin/viola/cello string quartet from the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra! Shades of Kronos, eh?
It's a dreamy, slowly unfolding, sitar n' strings soundscape, the Eastern twang of Johansson's sitar calmly contrasting with the more cinematic sweep of the string quartet, each recontextualizing the other. With sounds from the subcontinent and Swedish folk motifs both incorporated, this is a gorgeous East-West hybrid indeed, and crosses over other borders to somehow remind us of everything from Spaghetti Western soundtracks to Chinese orchestral music. Gosh, there's not much more to say other than, enjoy!
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One half of the Folk Implosion (the other half being Lou Barlow) doing very quiet, stark, Daniel-Johnston-like solo stuff.
We've long had a soft spot for the darkest of country folk twang -- Mark Kozelek, Tindersticks, Jesse Sykes, and Hotel Alexis to name just a handful. The last couple months have brought us a few more residing a little closer to home. Case in point, The John Francis' smoky blues filled On The Moment We Share. Deep deep male vocals and slow creeping tempo keep the mood bleak and somber. This album fits well right alongside the latest from fellow SF band The Black Swans. Music that never leaves the shadows? We're right there with 'em. Thanks for sharing!
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 Sea and Cake track appears on the straight-to-video John Hughes film called Reach the Rock, and although the McEntire track does appear in the film, it's not gonna be on the full length cd soundtrack, so we guess that's your reason for getting this single (although its similarity to Windham Hill-style Shadowfax new age lite might turn you off just a bit). Yikes.
For those of you who missed out on the super limited handmade Five Pillars Of Soul cd-r's JWB released one at a time over the last couple years, you can once again thank your lucky stars, you've been saved. And those of you who did manage to get em, well, why not get this handy disc that collects all 5 cd-r's onto a real cd with even more extensive liner notes added.
While this is purportedly a tribute to soul music, the soul music seems to be mostly implied here, like 'soul' in spirit, in concept, in intention, but not in execution. Which is not a bad thing. This -is- soul music, but the way it can only be played by middle class, white, mid-western boys. All shrieking, skronking, sweaty, pounding, rocking and GROOVING. You can catch glimpses of the Make Up, the Blues Explosion, the White Stripes, New York Dolls, as well as Alice Donut (especially in the vocals). Weird and pretty wonderful. Spazzy, soulful, glammy ROCK AND ROLL. There are 5 volumes. Short and sweet (each clocking in at 10-15 minutes) and all in honor of JWB's peculiar ideas of the pillars of soul: Melvin Van Peebles, Tania Hearst (Patty Hearst with her SLA name), Albert Ayler, Marc Bolan and Yoko Ono. They also throw in some covers of the Zombies, the Fugs, and Mission Of Burma but turn them into punky soul-fuck explosions... Good stuff. Although I'm still clinging to the belief that the sixth pillar must be BRUCE WILLIS!!!
While this is purportedly a tribute to soul music, the soul music seems to be mostly implied here, like 'soul' in spirit, in concept, in intention, but not in execution. Which is not a bad thing. This -is- soul music, but the way it can only be played by middle class, white, mid-western boys. All shrieking, skronking, sweaty, pounding, rocking and GROOVING. You can catch glimpses of the Make Up, the Blues Explosion, the White Stripes, New York Dolls, as well as Alice Donut (especially in the vocals). Weird and pretty wonderful. Spazzy, soulful, glammy ROCK AND ROLL. There are 5 volumes (we have the first four). Short and sweet (almost too short, clocking in at 10-15 minutes) and all in honor of JWB's peculiar ideas of the pillars of soul: Mario Van Peebles, Tania Hearst (Patty Hearst with her SLA name), Albert Ayler, Marc Bolan and the as yet to be announced 5th pillar.
Nice handmade sleeves with cool/funny liner notes. They do covers of the Zombies, the Fugs, and Mission Of Burma and turn them into punky soul explosions... Good stuff, here's hoping the fifth pillar is BRUCE WILLIS!!!
While this is purportedly a tribute to soul music, the soul music seems to be mostly implied here, like 'soul' in spirit, in concept, in intention, but not in execution. Which is not a bad thing. This -is- soul music, but the way it can only be played by middle class, white, mid-western boys. All shrieking, skronking, sweaty, pounding, rocking and GROOVING. You can catch glimpses of the Make Up, the Blues Explosion, the White Stripes, New York Dolls, as well as Alice Donut (especially in the vocals). Weird and pretty wonderful. Spazzy, soulful, glammy ROCK AND ROLL. There are 5 volumes (we have the first four). Short and sweet (almost too short, clocking in at 10-15 minutes) and all in honor of JWB's peculiar ideas of the pillars of soul: Mario Van Peebles, Tania Hearst (Patty Hearst with her SLA name), Albert Ayler, Marc Bolan and the as yet to be announced 5th pillar.
Nice handmade sleeves with cool/funny liner notes. They do covers of the Zombies, the Fugs, and Mission Of Burma and turn them into punky soul explosions... Good stuff, here's hoping the fifth pillar is BRUCE WILLIS!!!
While this is purportedly a tribute to soul music, the soul music seems to be mostly implied here, like 'soul' in spirit, in concept, in intention, but not in execution. Which is not a bad thing. This -is- soul music, but the way it can only be played by middle class, white, mid-western boys. All shrieking, skronking, sweaty, pounding, rocking and GROOVING. You can catch glimpses of the Make Up, the Blues Explosion, the White Stripes, New York Dolls, as well as Alice Donut (especially in the vocals). Weird and pretty wonderful. Spazzy, soulful, glammy ROCK AND ROLL. There are 5 volumes (we have the first four). Short and sweet (almost too short, clocking in at 10-15 minutes) and all in honor of JWB's peculiar ideas of the pillars of soul: Mario Van Peebles, Tania Hearst (Patty Hearst with her SLA name), Albert Ayler, Marc Bolan and the as yet to be announced 5th pillar.
Nice handmade sleeves with cool/funny liner notes. They do covers of the Zombies, the Fugs, and Mission Of Burma and turn them into punky soul explosions... Good stuff, here's hoping the fifth pillar is BRUCE WILLIS!!!
While this is purportedly a tribute to soul music, the soul music seems to be mostly implied here, like 'soul' in spirit, in concept, in intention, but not in execution. Which is not a bad thing. This -is- soul music, but the way it can only be played by middle class, white, mid-western boys. All shrieking, skronking, sweaty, pounding, rocking and GROOVING. You can catch glimpses of the Make Up, the Blues Explosion, the White Stripes, New York Dolls, as well as Alice Donut (especially in the vocals). Weird and pretty wonderful. Spazzy, soulful, glammy ROCK AND ROLL. There are 5 volumes (we have the first four). Short and sweet (almost too short, clocking in at 10-15 minutes) and all in honor of JWB's peculiar ideas of the pillars of soul: Mario Van Peebles, Tania Hearst (Patty Hearst with her SLA name), Albert Ayler, Marc Bolan and the as yet to be announced 5th pillar.
Nice handmade sleeves with cool/funny liner notes. They do covers of the Zombies, the Fugs, and Mission Of Burma and turn them into punky soul explosions... Good stuff, here's hoping the fifth pillar is BRUCE WILLIS!!!
Here is a 2cd release collecting all of the best (and the rare, and the radio sessions etc.) of John's Childen, the rebellious, punk ass, late '60s, psych pop band who at one point included Marc Bolan, later of the legendary T-Rex. JC are maybe best known for being thrown off a Who tour for upstaging them theatrically and for being louder!! On this album are very early versions of songs Marc Bolan would later re-record under his own name and as Tyrannosaurus Rex, such as "Mustang Ford", "Desdemona", and "Perfumed Garden Of Gulliver Smith". Contains a fancy book with extensive liner notes by band members, filling you in on all the dirt on this short lived British band.
We're not sure if the Numero Group's small subsidiary label, *(asterisk) is still continuing or not. Dedicated to obscure full album releases of private press records (namely in the soul, folk, and R&B vein), it's been over a year since their last release. Quite frankly, with the exception of the great Boscoe album, we just weren't as excited by this sub-label's releases as we have been with most all of the Numero Group output. But we recently discovered we still had a few copies of this Johnny Lunchbreak release that we never reviewed before, and after the Boscoe, it was our second favorite release on the label, mainly because it was so different from the others.
While Johnny Lunchbreak, an early-seventies post-Velvet's rock band from Connecticut, never recorded a full album, an acetate of nine demo recordings made between 1974-75 had turned up mysteriously and been released as a limited lp on Zero Street Records a few years ago, and *(asterisk) made it into a full cd release. Like the Modern Lovers and other East Coast rock bands of the era, Johnny Lunchbreak have a softer New York sound, clean but Velvety riffs with sort of a surfy twist and vocal melodies that are less insistent then either Jonathan Richman's or Lou Reed's. Apparently the band was trying for an early Bee Gees sound, but didn't quite reach that potential. Still the songs are pretty catchy, and for a band that spent its two years of existence focusing more on merchandising than playing live, the songs are surprisingly well-written and recorded. Worth checking out!
That Calvin Johnson is one very peculiar fella... always has been. Whether he's contorting himself like a pretzel with the funky Dub Narcotic, or crooning a bittersweet Beat Happening lo-fi luv song in his impossibly deeeeep voice, he is a distinct, unmistakable presence. His new solo album is distinct also, but in a very strange way. For some reason, the K Records kingpin has fancied himself as a blues singer from the deep south. Bizarre to say the least. It drew a chuckle or two when it was played in the store. Not sure if that's a good or bad thing, but certainly an acquired taste. If you like him, then here he is in all his glory (often without instrument accompaniment), and you'll probably enjoy this. On the other hand, if you're not a Calvin fan, this solo record will probably not win you over. And if you're completely unfamiliar with Mr. Johnson, you just might wanna check out a couple of his other records first like Beat Happening's Dreamy or Dub Narcotic's Out Of Your Mind or his collaboration with Built to Spill's Doug Martsch as the Halo Benders on God Don't Make No Junk.
As K Records website tells it, a few years ago The Blow's Khaela Maririch and Wolf Colonel's Jason Anderson were musing about the question "What if Calvin Johnson played all his best songs from over the years, with a band of real music-making people?"
We take particular issue with the last part of that query. Don't you think it's a total insult to everyone Mr. Johnson has played with over the years? If Heather, Heather, Bret, Chris, Doug et al weren't "real music-making people", then what were they?! Isn't that exactly what Beat Happening were all about? Breaking down limitations and expectations? And we're not even taking into consideration a little thing called 'musical chemistry'!
Anyways disgruntlement aside, apparently the well-meaning duo along with K label mates Kyle Field of Little Wings and Adam Forkner of Yume Bitsu fancied themselves to be the abovementioned "band of real music-making people" and formed the Sons Of The Soil.
So, what's it sound like? Well, to be utterly frank, Calvin Johnson minus Bret and Heather (aka his Beat Happening buddies), minus Doug Martsch (his fellow Halo Bender), and minus Chris Sutton and Heather Dunn (aka his Dub Narcotic co-horts) sounds like a drunken sailor cast adrift in a karaoke bar... woozily sea sick, rambling stage banter, and as atonal as ever. Try as they might, all the young'uns can't support Uncle Calvin. We're sure they had a great time, but listening to it is nothing but a flat flat flat experience. Bummer.
If you've enjoyed the deeply moving music of Michael Gira, Mark Lanegan and Golden Hotel, you just might want to add this new offering from Mike Johnson (ex-Dinosaur Jr) to that list. Very much in a similarly slow, somber vein. A dark downer album of mid to slow paced, psych-tinged country blues with Johnson's low, slightly hoarse voice pulling you down into the despair. One point of contention though sez Byram, the intro to "Dirty Hands" is a straight-up shoplift from Yabby You's "Conquering Lion" (Vivian Jackson and The Ralph Brothers) - very odd.
