Pop music simply doesn't get much more stylin' than this euro-fashion plate quartet. 604 is packed with groovy moments that bring to mind the sound and mood of "Sexy Boy" by AIR (but with female vocals). Lots of retro-futuristic (yes, at times quite Giorgio Moroder, New Order and Kraftwerk-esque --- in fact, their song "He Took Her To A Movie" is a shameful deadringer for "The Model") synth fluffiness along with equally light, playful lyrics delivered by the two female vocalists in sweet breathiness cozied up next to almost-spoken drollness a la Flying Lizards. Add in the bouncing, boogie-worthy beats and - voila! - a perfect fit on the Emperor Norton roster (amid such kindred spirits as Fantastic Plastic Machine and Takako Minekawa). Although I do have to ask -- why? Why do something that was done to perfection in the '80s and not even add anything new to the formula?
Ladytron enter a bid to keep the kids on the dancefloor just a little bit longer with this remixes 'n' b-sides collection. The former are previously unreleased tracks in which the fluffy electronic pop foursome's music gets even more techno-fied, and the latter are drawn from their Witching Hour album's UK singles. One of the best cuts on the cd is the third. It's James Iha mix of "Weekend". He wisely keeps one of the best things about Ladytron in the foreground, that is, the gals' breathy kittenish vocals. It has a raved-up ending that would've been great on the Run Lola Run soundtrack. Another tasty track is what the group has dubbed the "Catholic Version" of their last album's single "Destroy Everything You Touch". They deliver the song's simple central synth line through a church organ sound and apply a heavy dose of echoe-y cathedral-esque reverb. Quite nice. An aside, we'd swear that in the second track ("Nothing To Hide" which is one of the b-sides, but actually seems more like a remix in its unstructuredness) they're singing "I huff and I puff". It could be our rain-addled minds, 'cause we kinda doubt that they'd be making any Three Little Pigs references.
Also included in the deal is a bonus dvd so that in between boogie sessions you can kick back for a half an hour or so and watch some vids and a short documentary.
Here it is, the much-anticipated second full length from these four Euro-cats! Behold more pleasingly groovy, unbarbed club pop that's definitely not experimental nor groundbreaking although they've been frequently touted thusly by the media. Prepare yourself to see their name in even more electro-clash / '80s discussion-group threads! Yes, many have yet to forgive them for their shameless facsimile of Kraftwerk's "The Model" ("He Took Her To A Movie") and their general recreation of the '80s new wave dance sound, but seldom do you hear as loud an outcry about any of the recent guitar-based revivals and regurgitations. Hmmm, seems to be just a given that guitars - both acoustic and electric - are a mainstay, whereas synthesizers are somehow still viewed as novel and effortless button-pushing. Clearly it's what you do with your chosen instrument that's key, and you can do quite a lot with a guitar, but you can also do quite a lot, if not more, with a synthesizer. That said, this album does find the foursome venturing out a little further, and honing their songwriting and production skills. "Nuhorizons" and "Re:Agents" are prime examples of this. A little more complex and a little less fluffy. Yet overall, Ladytron still overflows with bubbly programmed beats and repetitive, uncomplicated arpeggiated melodies (the synthesized 'strings' sounds are put to rather abundant use). Their distinct soft'n'wispy versus droll'n'deadpan dual female vocals are much more effected and integrated into the mix, making the lyrics less decipherable than those on 604, and making the album, as a whole, less pop. Sadly however, there aren't any tracks that immediately made their presence known by locking their hooks in the way that "Playgirl" or "Paco!" did. Andee did remark however that "Turn It On" sounded like it could easily be "Axel's Theme Part Two" from Beverly Hills Cop. Whether this is a good or bad thing... dunno! Regardless, if you like sleek, stylish and playful night music, Ladytron is for you.
Many changes greeted us when we put this new Ladytron album on for its inaugural spin. For one thing, they're much less electronic dance-oriented, for another they've beefed up their line-up and sound most noticeably by adding a human drummer. There's far less of their shameless Kraftwerk worship this time around, and some more edgier power pop sensibilities (think Elastica or more recently Canada's Metric). On this their third full length, Ladytron also venture more into the territory of space age euro-pop. Many songs on Witching Hour conjure images of lovely stylish 60's jetsetters whisking their way through Heathrow Airport on their way to the next exotic destination. Light, effervescent and pretty. If you liked their song "Playgirl" from their first album 604, there's a lot here that will tickle your fancy. This certainly continues on in that delightful vein with soft female vocals charming the pants off the listener from start to finish. Oooooh la la!
Wow! What a dreamy Spanish psych-folk gem this is! A gorgeous sonic gem from the late 70's only making it to our eager ears nearly 30 years later. Turns out this is the only album that Pep Laguarda released, but what a timeless record left for future generations to enjoy. With production and assistance from Daevid Allen of Gong and Soft Machine, Brossa d'Ahir is the kind of record you put on and then just drift away and get lost with. So breezy and well crafted, these are songs designed for long daydreams, windows down as the wind comes rushing in and the scenery breezes by. Pep Laguarda & Tapineria is reminding us of the Chilean cosmic psych-folk of Congregacion, the tender touch of Caetano Veloso and the sprawling beauty of Neil Young albums like On The Beach or Comes A Time. We can imagine that if they aren't already, current day folks like Brightblack Morning Light, Devendra Banhart, Will Oldham and Vetiver would be drooling over the beautiful melodies and flowing ambience of this three decade old document of psych-folk perfection!
The art of Laibach can be found in their precise engineering of context, as they specialize in the cross-pollenization of musical archetypes and political rhetoric in an effort to undermine the totalitarian forces at work within consumer culture. The Laibach iconography emerges as a complex and purposefully contradictory concoction of Nazi-kunst, Wagnerian pomp, and Teutonic disco. When Laibach gets their hands on them, these forms become especially absurd, as they fuse such industrialized, miltaristic aesthetics to the songs of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Queen, Pink Floyd, Europe, and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Yes, some of these Frankensteinian marches are a little clumsy; if you've heard their infamous reinterpretation of the Beatles' Let It Be, and particularly the comically fumbled version of "Get Back", then you know that Laibach's iron fist has the potential to crack a pretty bad joke from time to time.
Anthems is the self-explanitory anthology of Laibach's most bombastic, and well, anthemic work. In many ways, Anthems is a "best of" compilation for Laibach, dating back to such classics as "Brat Moj" a turgid, solemn oath delivered with the sanguine baritone voice that has become a trademark for Laibach. But the bulk of Anthems feature the jackhammered, post-Wax Trax rhythms, incendiary guitar riffs, and claustrophobic electronics which Rammstein shamelessly stole on their way to MTV domination. Laibach probably didn't care, as they obviously did it much better and with a smug intelligence that Rammstein wholly lacks. Along with a great retrospective of this self-proclaimed retro-garde band, Anthems also features a second disc of remixes which apply a greater dancefloor sheen to Laibach's sound.
From their very earliest audio documents and live performances, the Slovenian avant-industrial ensemble Laibach had developed an incredibly focused mythology around themselves as a provocative force acting upon the extremes of art and politics. Working particularly with the aesthetics of totalitarianism (which as a political institution had long been hammered into the psyche of the Slovenian people from the left, right, East, and West), Laibach reconstituted any number of myths which invoked both fear and fascination in their audience. They wrote manifestos calling for a depersonalization through their music; they cross-pollinated Stalinist and Nazi imagery (alongside occultish symbolism and increasingly absurdist pop-cultural references); and they qualified their concerts as presentations of "systematic psycho-physical terror as a principle of social organization." In 1985 when Laibach ventured out upon their Occupied Europe Tour, they were a truly scary band with nobody really knowing how to analyze what they were doing. Was it an ugly resurgence of fascism? Was it psychological warfare conducted in the public arena? Was it a post-modern strategy reconnecting signifiers of hollowed ideologies? It was probably all of those things and more.
In the live recordings from that tour that made their way onto Neu Konservatiw, Laibach's sound was a punishing collision of martial rhythms and megaphone vocal broadcasts, exhibiting none of the black humour found later in their Beatles covers or their take on Jesus Christ Superstar. With the insistent plod of the multiple drums and monochord bass thumps, Laibach paralleled the abject stomp that the Swans were producing at that time, even though both projects had vastly different artistic intentions. As their studio albums in the mid-'80s were mostly sample based and had a clipped rigidity that make some of their songs a little clumsy, the live setting forced Laibach to strip their music to the most essential stabs of anthemic bombast; and on Neu Konservatiw, Laibach pull it off with an executioner's cold stoicism. Forcefully blunt and uncompromisingly brilliant.
If one were to take the logic of appropriative artists like Warhol or Rauschenberg, to the extremities of absurdity and dehumanization through the procress of mechanical reproduction, you would have Laibach. Perhaps the most misunderstood post-modern project to infiltrate pop culture, Laibach has often been associated with the proliferation of totalitarianism and Nazi culture, simply because they used those higly charged symbols and images and projected them back into the mass culture. However, Laibach's intent is to reinvest not just those symbols, but any symbol of authority and power, with the question of why is this symbol important to our culture. In many ways, Laibach was continuing in the same paths of inquiry found in their British compatriots Throbbing Gristle and The Hafler Trio; however, Laibach never cracked a smile, an attitude exemplified in their triumphant reinterpretations of the Beatles "Let It Be" as a series of miliaristic dirges and patriotic medleys.
"Rekapitulacija 1980 + 1984" was their first album, released as a double LP set with a beautiful series of reproduced woodcuts, offering portraits of the noble spirit from the agrarian worker married to the industrial landscapes, mirroring the same totalitarian artforms that had been thrust upon their native Slovenia during the Nazi occupation and later behind the Iron Curtain, when Yugoslavia was a Communist country. Despite this being their earliest set of recordings, Laibach's skill in the studio is tremendous, as heard in their epic piece 'Ti, Ki Izzivas' transforming Bernhard Hermann's soundtrack for "Psycho" into a punishing uber-motif coupled with a relentless drum machine pound and discordant organ blasts. Other tracks such as 'Brat Moj' or 'Smrt Za Smrt' are brooding no wave constructions, taking the best and most haunting elements of early Swans and early Cabaret Voltaire and fusing them into a skeletal anti-groove laced with growling vocals and commanding basslines.
But Laibach themselves have said it best in their early masterpiece 'Perspektive' : "By darkening the consumers' mind, it drives them into a state of humble contrition and total obedience and self-sacrifice, by destroying every track of individuality, it melts the individuals into a mass and a mass into a humble collective body... Our basic inspiration (ideals which are not ideals through their form but the material of Laibach manipulation itself) remains an industrial production, the art of the third Reich, totalitarianism, taylorism, bruitism, disco... The disco rhythm as a regular repetition, is the purest / the most radical form of the militantly organized rhythmicity of technicist production, and as such the most appropriate means of media manipulation." To hear this recited in the style of a Russian propagandist over a ominous thud of drum machines and triumphant Wagnerian horns, one can't help but laugh at the absurdity of such a statement; however, the logic quickly sinks in that Laibach are 100% correct. A brilliant album.
Perhaps the greatest and most challenging pieces of conceptual art disguised as a pop album. Truly awesome.
What with the sad recent history of the former Yugoslovia -- conflicting ethnicities and religions, horrible atrocities, wars upon wars -- Laibach's perspectives on politics and culture appear as ghastly premonitions, which unfortunately have come true. Since the early '80s Laibach has located their Slovenia at the crossroads of the many forces (e.g. Nazi fascism, Communism, Western consumerism, fundamentalist religions, etc.) which all attempt to exact their wills upon the people of their nation, who in turn have had to adapt culturally, politically, or otherwise to such forces. In turn, Laibach and their larger organization NSK has embraced this behavior for adaptation and appropriation as a means of both celebrating the Slovenian spirit and criticizing the invasive forces. At times, the Laibach ethos spoke through grim industrial mantras (e.g. "Rekapitulacija" and "Nova Akropola"); yet others, Laibach's message came through the pastiche of their bizarrely comical cover album of the Beatles "Let It Be."
So strong are their convictions about their own concepts, politics, and aesthetics that Laibach runs dangerously close to self-parody. Of course, Laibach has plenty of rhetoric to defend their conceptual agenda; but it's hard for them to hide behind tautologies in defense of "Wat," a strange album that jack hammers 909 rhythms, Wagnerian samples, Chain Reactive synth pads, and growling vocals into a slick production not unlike a guitarless Rammstein, who in turn are the most egregious of Laibach copyists. That said, Laibach unwaveringly believes that "Wat" is a relevant pop album disguising their interrogative practices. The bombast of these ideals is what makes Laibach so effective, but at the same time Laibach can stumble over their own tongues.
Now domestically available (thus cheaper, the important point). Otherwise, as with the identical import version that we previously stocked, it's a super-sultry follow up to "The Sounds of Satellites", full of the same sexy murmurred, whispered vox, minimoog textures, and infectious rhythms.
A ten year anniversary double cd retrospective from the fabulous Laika! Even a decade after their debut, some amount of confusion still seems to linger as to the band's identity. Therefore, once again we'd like to state the following: Named after the Soviet space travellin' canine (the album cover is an awesome photo of the lil' doggie's bubble helmet!), this Laika is not to be confused with the other musical group of the same name (y'know, the one with The Cosmonauts) who are a surf combo. That said, this trippy groovy London quartet, lead by Ms Margaret Fiedler (formerly of Moonshake) and Guy Fixsen, have released three fine albums - 1994's Silver Apples Of The Moon (no relation to the band nor the Morton Subotnick album of the same name), 1997's Sounds Of The Satellites, and Good Lookin' Blues from 2000. A fourth full length is currently in the works. They're a melding of all the good stuff: complex and sexy electronics, hypnotic dubby bass, scintillating jazzy percussion, and Fiedler's seductive vocals. Meticulously piecing and layering it all together to set moods that crackle, smoulder and undulate.
The first cd is a compilation of highlights from their three previous albums, and the second features remixes, Peel sessions, live recordings and a *new* previously unreleased track! Will surely delight Laika fans until their next album finally surfaces, and win them some new admirers as well. Captivating!
Finally available domestically!
Laika aren't a band of sudden changes or startling shifts. They've effectively cast their spell, soothing and grooving their way through three smokily trippy albums, and you might recall their splendid ten year retrospective compilation from earlier this year callled Lost In Space. Well, we're pleased to report that with the lengthily titled Wherever I Am I Am What Is Missing, they're showing no signs of stopping. That said, this full length contains perhaps their most low key and stripped down tracks ever. Their usual lush assemblage of samples and diverse array of instruments have been stripped down to the Laika bare bones basics Fender Rhodes keys, undulating bass lines, kinetic rhythms and Margaret Fiedler's spoken-sung vocals. Still very hypnotic and moody, it makes for a perfect late night wind down album.
What's weird is we don't remember liking Lake Of Dracula very much back in the day, but listening to this now, it's sort of kicking our ass in a huge way. Pounding sludgy new wavish punk rock, with a serious gothy dark vibe. Sort of like Chrome playing Interpol or something. Big crunchy guitars playing doomy angular riffs, a simple garagerock thud, thick swaths of feedback, occasional squalls of psychedelic freakout, and vocals that rant and rave in a super dramatic croon. Most of this disc is take from a live radio broadcast recorded May 28th, 1997, but there are a handful of extra tracks taken from singles and compilations. This short lived combo ('95-'97) featured Flying Luttenbachers drummer extrordinaire Weasel Walter on the GUITAR, Marlon Magas from Couch and Magas on vocals, Jessica from the Jacks on bass and Heather M. from the Scissor Girls on the drumkit as well as some guest rock action from Al of U.S. Maple fame.
Shit, the more we listen to this, the more we're digging it. An ultra chaotic mix of old school industrial thud, gloomy depressive punk rock, psychedelic garage rock stomp, a hellish sort-of-rockabilly with reverbed guitars and galloping drums, gloomy doom and in-your-face no-wave freakout. Seems like it would be a big ol' mess and it sort of is, but it sounds so impossibly good. Like the Strokes with frontal lobotomies recording for Bulb, or some caveman doom band covering Franz Ferdinand after taking huge handfuls of horse tranquilizers. Getting a jump on the current crop of new wave revivalists by a decade. But their new wave was a whole lot darker, damaged and demented!
Lali Puna's third album is not as engaging on first listen as its two full length predecessors 1999's Tridecoder and 2001's Scary World Theory, but it's definitely grown on us with repeat listens. Valerie Trebeljahr's sweet wisp of a voice wafts gracefully around the abrasive guitars and woozy synths of wunderkind Markus Acher (Notwist, Village of Savoonga, Tied & Tickled Trio). Like The Notwist and brother Micha's Ms John Soda, Lali Puna are able to straddle the rock / electronica line incredibly well. On the one hand, they can exude an amazing amount of warmth for a band founded in the electronic recording studio and on the other they can rock out with the best: tracking live drums, bass, guitar and violin as often as they rely on sequencers and synths. Acher and Trebeljahr never forsake good, solid song writing with infectious hooks and rich harmonies for studio wizardry gimmicks. In fact, they utilize the two with uncanny balance and effect. Before closing, the comparisons that will be drawn, nay have been drawn, between Lali Puna and Stereolab must be addressed. Yes, many tracks on Faking The Books immediately bring to mind the aformentioned English electroni-rock warhorse. And while certain superficial likenesses are admittedly there: female singer, similar cache of electronic gear, and an ostensibly pop music format, it's what lies at the core of their respective musical engines that makes them different. Think of Lali Puna as what might happen to Stereolab if they managed to be a little less regimented and a little more playful.
Micronomic is a song from Lali Puna's most recent full length Faking The Books. In addition to appearing in its unadulterated state, the dreamy pop song gets the remix and video treatment for this cdep -- an expansive remix by Boom Bip (in exchange for the one they contributed to the recent B.B. release Corymb), and video by Luis Briceno. Another album track "Alienation" is also remixed by their tourmates Alias. Both remixers are totally respectful of Lali Puna's overall sound, injecting more billowy spaciousness into the lovely already-atmopheric tracks. Rounding out this 5-song ep are two brand new ones "The Daily Match" and the moody instrumental "Harrison Reverse". Nice!
Markus Asher had once been quite a prolific producer of avant poptones, beginning way back when with the underappreciated Village Of Savoonga and moving onto the arcing indietronica brilliance of The Notwist whose zenith occurred with Neon Golden back in 2002. Lali Puna was an Asher project that ran concurrent to both Savoonga and Notwist, with often sublime impressionist songs matching the breathy vocals of Valerie Trebeljahr with percolating electronics wrapped around twee pop ballads. Our Inventions is the first album by Lali Puna in quite a long time. Six years since the last proper record. Five since a collection of B-sides and remixes. Not much has changed for Lali Puna. The band settles upon polite, slightly melancholy melodies that flicker upon delicate rhythms built out of clockwork sequences and restrained tappings on the drumkit. Delicate as always.
While this quartet boasts the talents of Markus Acher and Christoph Brandner from Village of Savoonga, Valerie Trebeljahr and Florian Zimmer, this is far from that band's dark, textured, moody compositions. Lali Puna lead by Trebeljahr is much more of an airy, textured, pretty combo. Think a German Stereolab. Playful programmed beats, wafting organ drones, twinkling electronics, murmurred vocals, and an ample array of sampled sounds.
These two records were born from an experiment undertaken by Lambchop frontman Kurt Wagner. The experiment? To try and write a song every day for a year. Apparently, the experiment was a success and the song-a-day regime was easier than expected. These two releases represent the cream of the crop of those..um...365 songs?!?! Phew, could've been a 20 disc set! The Lambchop sound is in full effect. lush, and sweet, lots of strings and big arrangements, with Wagner's distinctive and lugubrious drawl. For those of you unfamiliar with Lambchop, imagine Vic Chesnutt fronting the Tindersticks. That gives you a rough idea. But Wagner's arrangements aren't always dour and dark. His songs evoke afternoon tea in the parlour and lazy mornings on the porch as much as they explore loneliness and despair. A sort of big band / lounge / no depression / Gone With The Wind / redneck musical. Played impeccably. Wagner's caustic wit seems to have mellowed with age, but it suits Lambchop's ever mellowing smooth sound to a T. While the two parts of this set -are- different, they are similar enough that, we're not sure what to say. They exist as a sort of call and response, one complimenting the other. So it seems unlikely that anyone would buy just one. And needless to say, if you're a Lambchop fan, you're definitely gonna want both.
Between this new album from Lambchop and those from Jason Molina and M. Ward, whoa, this is quite the week for country rock excellence!
Listening to the latest Lambchop album is a lot like wrapping your winter-chilled bones in an old wool blanket... or like being hugged by your favorite bearded uncle -- a bit bristly, but utterly warm and comforting. Y'know, something/someone you can always count on. Their country rooted sound is thick, smooth and dark like molasses with the piano, bass, steel guitar, strings and vocals all melting together beautifully. When this band is 'on' they simply can't be beat for deep, shadowy Americana goodness, and with Damaged they most definitely are! Recommended!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
"Introducing The Nashville Sound." Live ep proves they haven't lost it.
Lambchop's debut full length from 1994 is, in Windy and Andee's opinion, also their very best! Trembling mandolin, moody horns, bandleader Kurt Wagner at his most lucid, and heartbreaking melodies. A sort of dark gothic twangy lost gem of an album. God I love this record!
It's been years since I (Windy) reviewed a Lambchop record. Having deeply adored this Nashville collective's debut full length from several years back (I Hope You're Sitting Down), I haven't found their ensuing musical trajectory very interesting. Their
Way back in the mid-nineties, we were a bit obsessed with Nashville's Lambchop, their first record I Hope You're Sitting Down still ranks as one of our all time favorites, a fantastic record of dark twangy slo-mo gothic country ballads rife with clever wordplay that at times reminded us quite a bit of occasional Lambchop member, the late great Vic Chesnutt. Lambchop's vocalist and main songwriter Kurt Wagner's distinctive laconic mumbly croon as much a defining part of their sound, as the lush twang flecked, almost orchestral arrangements.
For whatever reason, we kind of lost touch with Lambchop, as their sound grew more soulful and introspective, we of course checked in occasionally, and looking back on past reviews it seems we always welcomed them back with open arms. And the latest, Mr. M looks to be no different. Another gorgeous songsuite, hushed and gently twangy, warm and lush and darkly dreamy, Wagner's vocals sounding as perfect as ever, and the lyrics, well, the first line of the album opener finds Wagner dropping the F-bomb right off the bat, amidst soaring swirling strings and a shuffling almost easy listening jazziness. The rest of the record is not nearly so string laden, but the songs are all pretty fantastic, we'd say it was a return to form, but really, these guys never stopped. Mr. M has definitely rekindled our love of Lambchop (and had us running home to throw on I Hope You're Sitting Down), and while we may not love it as much as those old records, it definitely still hits the spot.
These two records were born from an experiment undertaken by Lambchop frontman Kurt Wagner. The experiment? To try and write a song every day for a year. Apparently, the experiment was a success and the song-a-day regime was easier than expected. These two releases represent the cream of the crop of those..um...365 songs?!?! Phew, could've been a 20 disc set! The Lambchop sound is in full effect. lush, and sweet, lots of strings and big arrangements, with Wagner's distinctive and lugubrious drawl. For those of you unfamiliar with Lambchop, imagine Vic Chesnutt fronting the Tindersticks. That gives you a rough idea. But Wagner's arrangements aren't always dour and dark. His songs evoke afternoon tea in the parlour and lazy mornings on the porch as much as they explore loneliness and despair. A sort of big band / lounge / no depression / Gone With The Wind / redneck musical. Played impeccably. Wagner's caustic wit seems to have mellowed with age, but it suits Lambchop's ever mellowing smooth sound to a T. While the two parts of this set -are- different, they are similar enough that, we're not sure what to say. They exist as a sort of call and response, one complimenting the other. So it seems unlikely that anyone would buy just one. And needless to say, if you're a Lambchop fan, you're definitely gonna want both.
Another beautifully deeeeeep, somber lament of an album from one of Nashville's finest... Lambchop! Actually on a number of songs on OH (ohio), main man Kurt Wagner's smooth low voice reminded us quite a bit of a cross between Stuart Staples of Tindersticks and Jim Croce. In fact, if you found yourself pleasantly enveloped by the former's most recent album Hungry Saw, you might find yourself likewise captivated by OH (ohio). Steeped in melancholia and a haunting nostalgia, this is a fantastic progression from Lambchop's last full length, 2006's Damaged!
Those Lambchop folks are so generous and prolific! They've followed up their two albums Aw C'mon and No You C'mon from 2004 with this hearty offering of eighteen odds and ends. This Nashville band seldom disappoints, always playing with an abundance of energy, wit and heart. We've said it before and we'll say it again, while listening to songs like "Loretta Lung" or "Mr. Crabby" it's remarkable just how much frontman Kurt Wagner's voice bears a resemblance to that of Vic Chesnutt. They surely have many fans in common (or if not, they should!). Heck, Chesnutt has even played with Lambchop in the past. Theirs is some terrific dark country rock that can be all gorgeously slinking 'n' smoldering or all rugged 'n' stubbly. A couple of fitting comparisons that we'll use once more are: Vic Chesnutt fronting the Tindersticks or a countrified Luna. Highlights include "Ovary Eyes" and the aforementioned "Mr. Crabby".
Lambchop has been around since, like, 1987 and the revolving membership has at times included from 3 to 14 members. If you've ever seen Lambchop live, you know how delightful they are, each member working together to create a harmonious whole, and boy do they
Tools in the Dryer is a collection of long out of print singles, one offs, b-sides, cassette releases, etc. AQ-pal and Lambchop member Jonathan Marx did the compiling, and he came up with the jewels from Lambchop's past, there aren't any duds here and it's all quite pretty. Includes a remix by Mark Robinson (Unrest / Teenbeat Records). Recommended.
Kurt Wagner and his Nashville-based ensemble (here with the addition of Vic Chesnutt) bestow another winner upon us. While their first record used pretty, melancholy country twang to such spectacular effect, every succeeding album has gone slightly more and more towards old American r&b, as evidenced here by the Curtis Mayfield and Frederick Knight covers (wonderfully done). Also covered: East River Pipe.
Genre cross-pollination has been happening a lot lately, hasn't it? And here it goes again! This four-song cdep brings together Lambchop's country twang and Hands Off Cuba's electronica. The results? Well, the first song "Prepared" is softer than a goosedown pillow, cozier than a giant hearth, and lazydays-ier than a giant hammock. The most familiarly Lambchop sounding track of the four, it's a gently glistening combo of guitars, piano and deep male vocals. Then, the second track "Blur" introduces CoLAB's programmed stuttery rhythms, strings and twinkling melodies which carry on through the final two tracks. Nice!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
We've been meaning to review something from these modern retro power poppers for a while now. We first discovered Lame Drivers via aQ faves Home Blitz, whose O.ut O.f P.hase record we made Record Of The Week back in 2009, and who played our first South By Southwest showcase around the same time. At some point, Jason from Home Blitz struck off on his own, and took all the power popisms of Home Blitz, of which there were many, and honed them to perfection, so much so, that most Lame Drivers songs sound like they could have come straight off some obscure Yellow Pills style power pop compilation from back in the day. This flexi-book is in the style of those Castle Face Group Flex compilations we reviewed a while back, a little 7" book, with five flexi discs, assembled into a little playable book, seven songs, killer artwork from a handful of different artists, but really it's the songs that makes this essential. The Yellow Pills comparison is the most apt, think classic seventies power pop, Dwight Twilley, Cheap Trick, crunchy, fuzzy, jangly, catchy choruses, even catchier verses, fans of more modern retro power pop revivalists like Warm Soda and Bare Wires, will flip their lid for Lame Drivers too, and the packaging is ace to boot, the artwork eye popping, and sort of an essential music nerd object, that just happens to also be musically kick ass. WAY recommended, and crazy limited too, so grab one quick before they're gone...
One of two new releases from modern retro power poppers Lame Drivers. Elsewhere on this list you'll find their Group Flex style flexibook ep, and then there's this, a killer split with Northwestern post punks Woolen Men. Lame Drivers deliver two short sharp blast of fuzzy, jangly pop. The first channels The Fall through some swaggery, angular crunch; the second sounds like it could be a new Matthew Melton (Bare Wires, Warm Soda) project, all hushed whispery vocals, fuzzed out guitars, hooks galore, swoonsome and melodic, also reminds us a bit of Purling Hiss. Killer stuff for sure.
Woolen men counter with a kick ass slab of fuzzy indie pop that sounds a bit like the Wipers via early Guided By Voices, which is a VERY good thing, and follow that up with a Terminals cover, the band making that classic NZ Flying Nun sound all their own, bass heavy, swirling synths, monotone vox, all wrapped around another killer hook. Both sides of this 7" are stellar, and should have everybody tracking down everything they can from both of these bands!
Few cosmic sonic explorers can evoke the mysterious druggy sounds of the astral plane quite like New Zealand space drone raga one man project Lamp Of The Universe, who has returned once again to guide us on this, our latest journey through a warm whirling tripped out soundworld of acoustic guitars and buzzing sitars, of chantlike vocals and simple hypnotic rhythms, of glimmering effects and washed out dreamlike drift.
It's been almost two years since we reviewed the last LOTU, and since then the Lamp seems to have undergone a bit of a change, most of the sounds are still present, and still sound divine, but now vocals play a way bigger part. We were wary for sure, we prefer our spaced out dronerock instrumental generally, or if there must be vocals, then just chanting or some sort of wordless vocalizing, but LOTU manages to pull it off, there is in fact actual singing. LOTU mainman Craig Williamson has an appealing reedy croon, that is not heavily effected, but just enough, draped in reverb and echo, there are plenty of oooooh's and aaaaah's, but the vocals proper are pretty cool, in fact, the main thing the vocals do is make this sound less like some abstract space drone record, and more like some lost seventies raga folk record, which is definitely a good thing.
While some of the tracks are still washed out drifts of buzzing synth and sitar, others are haunting laments, populated with banjos and fluttering flutes. Gorgeous.
If you ever wondered what it might sound like if some seventies British raga folk got all tangled up in some dreamy ambient drone-y space rock, well then this will most definitely hit the spot.
Another backroom discovery, this time, a super limited (only 100 copies, and now almost for sure out of print) cd-r from New Zealand space raga outfit Lamp Of The Universe. Each one of these packaged in a gorgeous swirled hand painted sleeve, with a printed insert. Two long songs, and this is LOTU at their most drone out, way more raga than space rock, longform drones, extended tones, shimmering buzz stretched out into minutes long melodies, bits of percussive shimmer surface here and there, but for the most part this is all about the mighty DRONE. The opening track introduces some high end snake charmer style horns, and some buried hand drums, but those really only add to the undulating layered drone.
The second, slightly shorter track (22 minutes) is a slowly shifting thick tangle of layered tones, wound into one huge slithering reverberating drone, deep and resonant, thick and dark and shimmery, plenty of buzz and fuzz and whir, intoxicatingly mesmeric, a drone so dense and intense it nearly sucks the air out of the room when it finally ends.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. Each hand numbered, we have the last copies ever, so please don't be disappointed if these disappear quick...
We discovered Lamp Of The Universe, aka New Zealander Craig Williamson, via his recent cd-r on Barl Fire, a gorgeously blissed out drone rock space raga that we just couldn't get enough of. And you all apparently agreed as those puppies flew out of here (don't order them now though! they are gone). So we got in touch with Williamson and managed to get a few more of his releases. A couple cds which we'll review in upcoming lists, but we figure we should list this lp first as we only got a handful and it's super limited.
More of that warm Eastern raga tinged space rock, dreamy and drifting and drowsy. Sitar strings buzz and vibrate, tablas sputter rhythmically beneath layers of swooshing fuzz, vocals are soft and lilitng, drifting lazily above the dizzying psych swirl, each track a slow growing soundscape that starts as a drone, becomes a sort of droney raga, and in some cases morphs into a propulsive Krautrocky /post rock groove. Sounds a bit like an Eastern Spacemen 3 most of the time, guitars are druggy and psychedelic, rhythms are simple but hypnotic, making each track, even the 'rockers', totally meditative and mesmerizing.
Packaged in hand made sleeves, with a metallic silkscreened image on cardstock affixed to the front. Limited to 320 copies, each one hand numbered.
Ever since the very first time we heard New Zealand's Lamp Of The Universe, on some long gone, super limited cd-r, we were immediately hooked. Super blissed out space rock ragas, that occasionally coalesced into some strange post rock / krautrock hybrid, bur more often than not just droned and drifted heavenward. This latest disc, From The Mystic Rays Of Astrological Light perfectly divides the difference between the two.
The opening track is a glorious slow burning raga, a thick reverberating low end, that shimmers and stretches out over seventeen minutes. A dense snarled expanse of hypnotic buzz, that sounds like it could go on forever. The surrounding sonic haze is gauzy and dreamlike, with little sprinkles of reverbed percussion, drifting vocals, and some murky, underwater sounding FX. Definitely another one of those tracks that carries us right off, and if we had our way would in fact go on forever. Track two starts out in a similar vein, but quickly transforms into blissed out laid back space jam, lazy simple drumming, dense clouds of buzz and fuzz, some low slung bass rumble, and all around it, flares of Hendrixian psych guitar, disembodied vocals, thick swells of warm guitar distortion, very dreamy and druggy.
The third track is another abstract Eastern style raga, albeit with a bit of a modern sensibility (a la Sunroof!, Vibracathedral Orchestra, etc.). A slow rhythmic pulse underlies drifting clouds of buzzing steel strings, and sporadic percussive clatter. Bells and chimes float drowsily on a slow flowing river of glacial buzz. A close listen reveals all sorts of melodic fragments, bits of vocals, weird sonic filigree, but step back, and it becomes a huge sonic whirl, that pulls you under, wraps you up in warm sheets of thick thrum and carries you closer and closer to the sun. The final track is the shortest of the four (at 8+ minutes) and sounds like an extension of the second. A lengthy, lugubrious outer space jam, all sun baked and druggy, drenched in delay and reverb, a loping slow motion dirge. Like Finnish drone rockers Circle if they grew up in the sixties and did lots of (lots more?) drugs, or Hawkwind at 16rpm, with an extra dollop of spacepsych FX courtesy of Acid Mothers Temple.
Another super mesmerizing druggy drift through time and space (rock). Awesome.
One of our main complaints about garage rock, (and hell, most music in general) is that to a certain degree, it's easy to get the sound right, but the sound is really nothing without actual songs. Plenty of bands can bash it out Oh Sees style, or get all Stoogesy, but no amount of vintage amps, old mics, beat up guitars, blown out vocals, pounding drums, and swaggery snarly attitude can make up for a dearth of hooks or melodies. Sure a band like that can be a blast live, if all you want to do is sweat and bleed and fuck shit up, but bands like that tend to not translate so well on record. Cuz once the visceral live experience, of careening wildly against the stage in a heaving sweaty throng, ear drums blasted, body battered and bruised, is stripped away, you're often left with something that pales in comparison to the live experience.
And that was actually our first impression of Lamps, the first track here especially, a speaker shredding blast of garage-noise that rivals the full blown intensity of Japanese garage noiseniks Acid Eater, a pounding jangle and stomp peppered with bursts of grinding full on in-the-red NOISE, but the weird thing is, we found ourselves playing that track over and over, and eventually even those noisy bits, became somehow catchy. And as the rest of the record unfolded, it all somehow made more sense. The hookiness, the melodies, the catchiness that we look for in bands like this, was still present, just way more subtle, utterly buried or obscured in places, but then in the midst of some droned out riff heavy pound, a hook will surface, and drag you in, and suddenly, the record, and the sweaty, bloody live show don't sound all that far apart.
Nothing else on the record is as totally blown out as the opener, but the sound does tend way more toward the noise rock side of the sonic spectrum, than the garage rock, jagged shards of super distorted guitar, thick rumbling bass, yowled vocals, huge clouds of psychedelic noiseguitar freakouts, tranced out hypnorock crush wreathed in swirls of crumbling distortion, squalls of feedback, the sound frequently coalescing into parts that are surprisingly poppy, but only briefly, seeming to always devolve into something way more messy, noisy, heavy, and gloriously chaotic.
Fans of the current crop of garage rockers (Thee Oh Sees, Ty Segall, etc.) probably already dig these guys, but really, anyone who's into all the kick ass noise rock we've been listing lately: Metz, the Men, etc. should check these guys out for sure!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Boy armed with sampler creates sweetly satisfying and danceable record, looping casio tones, sampled south asian female vocals, & other fun bits o' pop culcha, and ends up sounding v. Much like the lighter side of Steve Fisk (how many people remember that Duck Hunt single on K).
Regardless of which verb in this album's title you choose to exercise when addressing Montreal, Quebec's Land Of Talk -- we opted to cheer! -- we're sure you'll agree that these three young pop upstarts are an absolute deadringer for fellow Canadians Metric. They certainly seem equally influenced by those punchy '90s gals Veruca Salt, Elastica and Garbage too. They pack each of these seven songs with edgy energy, crunchy guitars and vibrant female vocals. Good good good!
With songtitles like "How to Feed a Sea Monkey" and "Automotive High School", you know that Land of the Loops is up to the same ole delightfully silly, sweet, and catchy ditties as before. Lots of cute loopy sound samples, round casio tones, and samples of that bird-voiced girl that's appeared on all the previous Land of the Loops recordings. Not particularly new or groundbreaking, but does music always have to do that? Let your ears rest to this record.
Around these parts, Rhode Island artpunk noise rock combo Landed are probably most infamous for featuring soon to be ubiquitous SF rock luminary John Dwyer (Coachwhips, OCS, Ohsees, Dig That Body Up It's Alive) among their ranks. But for those in the know, Landed is the musical repository for most of the dudes who once called Six Finger Satellite home!!! And it sounds like it.
This is almost like a noise rock dance record, with a relentless groove, thick ropy synths, squawked almost black metal vocals, the eventually transform into weird sung/spoken singing, all over a relentless bass throb and buried in tons of space-y effects. There's a definite Six Finger vibe, but a lot darker and damaged than that, but still almost sort of funky. There's even an almost-jungle breakdown at the end of side A!
The flip side begins as a spaced out ambient drift, all warbly synths and sweeping expanses of whir and buzz, eventually though those funky drums kick back in, and the record locks into a krautrocky noise groove, again bordering on totally danceable. They almost sound like a way scarier, way druggier Excepter. Once again, everything is drenched in FX and peppered with fucked up and freaked out sounds. Definitely the heaviest scariest dance record of the year. And features some killer garish cover art that would almost be more at home on a Buzz-Oven record!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
