While most aQ customers probably know the name Phil Manley by now, the ones who don't still have probably heard one of the bands he's played in: Trans Am, The Fucking Champs, Jonas Reinhardt, Oneida, or maybe one of the bands he's recorded: The Alps, Moon Duo, Wooden Shjips, Mi Ami, Arp, Saviours. And while like us, you might have been thinking a solo record from Manley would sound like either the Champs or Trans Am, or something right in between, Manley instead looked back to a certain German music of the seventies, music that most definitely informed Trans Am, and continues to influence Manley and his music, stuff like Kraftwerk, Neu!, Cluster, Popol Vuh, Harmonia, and while around aQ, modern folks trying their hand at krautrock is nothing revolutionary, Manley proves his krautrock mettle with a suite of songs that manage to fuse the classic sounds of old with something slightly more modern. The opener is all pulsing synths and spidery Rother like guitar melodies, and a warm swelling melodic refrain, the Kraftwerk vibe is huge, while the follow up "Commercial Potential" takes what sounds like the main melody from Metallica's "Enter Sandman" and stretches it out into something much more haunting and meditative, lacing it with piano, softly swirling new agey synths. Dark and brooding and quite lovely.
"Lawrence KS" is post rock gone krautrock, with a guitar part that sounds a bit Slinty, draped over a stuttering minimal rhythmic pulse, which leads into "Forest Opening Theme", a lush bit of hazy, softly psychedelic krautdrone drift, like some lost Popol Vuh soundtrack.
"Work It Out" is all buzzing synths and lush layered spaciness, while "Make Good Choices" is some super spare steel string Appalachia, subtly droney building to a softly chaotic finish. "Gay Bathers" is a brief bit of (seemingly) tongue in cheek new age-y shimmer, all swoonsome synths, and "doot doot doo" falsetto vox, sounding more like a lost backing track for the High Llamas.
But it's "Night Visions" that feels like the album's centerpiece" a 9+ minute Tangerine Dreamy sprawl of arpeggiated melodies, soft synth swells, swirling moody minimal melodies, all drifty and hypnotic and minimal and abstract and so utterly mesmerizing, one of those tracks that definitely could have kept right on going.
And finally, the title track, which returns to the pulsing synth and motorik rhythms of the record opener.
So good. And don't let the silly album cover and goofy song and album titles fool you, Manley and friends just have a dorky sense of humor (see: The Fucking Champs, Trans Am, etc.), and Life Coach is a serious, and seriously kick ass slab of modern minimal krautrock. Dig it!
Forget all your preconceived notions about Aimee Mann's middle-of-the-road Lilith Fair brand of singer slash songwriter. Yeah, okay, that's what she is, but like Elvis Costello in his prime, she elevates the genre head and shoulders above her peers. This album is so hook-filled and so lovely and Mann's voice is so exceptionally entrancing that even this listener's jaded ears are enamored. Highly recommended! (All the songs, including one co-written with Elvis Costello, are new, with only one repeated from the "Magnolia" soundtrack.)
The highly anticipated follow-up to Ms Mann's marvelous Bachelor #2 album has arrived. Now, first things first, the title: Lost In Space? Surely she's not referring to herself 'cause on this album, she's sounding more grounded and self-assured than ever. The intimacy, emotion, and integrity she conveys through each song reminded me a lot of Lucinda Williams and Tom Waits. While their music is nothing alike, each artist straddles that fence between the mainstream and for lack of a better word the 'indie'. They've each retained their own sound and unique voice within the 'industry', although unlike Williams, Mann's music hasn't been overly glossified in production. Her wonderful, distinct voice is in top form, and the songwriting's super-solid with some immediately hummable melodies, full warm instrumentation and nerve-touching lyrics. Features a comic book insert illustrated by Seth.
Re-released as a double cd set encased in a deluxe hardcover edition resembling an old style children's board-cover book. The comic book by the artist known as Seth which came as an insert in the original pressing has been integrated into the package. It bookends the alternating pages of lyrics and full page Seth illustrations. The second 'bonus' disc contains a bunch of quality Aimee stuff: live recordings, previously unreleased songs (including "Observatory" cowritten by Glenn Tilbrook) and a video for "Pavlov's Bell" to boot!
Here's what we said last year about the album on its own:
The highly anticipated follow-up to Ms Mann's marvelous Bachelor #2 album has arrived. Now, first things first, the title: Lost In Space? Surely she's not referring to herself 'cause on this album, she's sounding more grounded and self-assured than ever. The intimacy, emotion, and integrity she conveys through each song reminded me a lot of Lucinda Williams and Tom Waits. While their music is nothing alike, each artist straddles that fence between the mainstream and for lack of a better word the 'indie'. They've each retained their own sound and unique voice within the 'industry', although unlike Williams, Mann's music hasn't been overly glossified in production. Her wonderful, distinct voice is in top form, and the songwriting's super-solid with some immediately hummable melodies, full warm instrumentation and nerve-touching lyrics.
Ms Aimee bestows her warm holiday wishes a little earlier than the rest of the crowd with this, her Christmas album! In her unmistakable dulcet voice, she sweetly sings eight traditional numbers such as "I'll Be Home For Christmas", White Christmas", "Winter Wonderland", "The Christmas Song" and "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen", but also adds one of her own titled "Calling On Mary" as well as "You're A Mean One Mr. Grinch"!
Mann fanns (tee hee, sorry!), here's another gem to add to your garland of Aimee. Never anything fancy nor flashy, but what she does, she does exceptionally well. Adored by critics and fans alike, she just quietly goes about her business of making wonderful, heartrending albums. She's such a fine storyteller with an unmistakable calm (and calming) voice, few can articulates the empty ache of loss and neglect with the eloquence that she does. The only criticisms that really arise with regard to her work is that there can be a sameyness to it all. While some might call it 'predictable', just as many others surely call it 'reliable'. Her latest album certainly takes not drastic detours, but it's different in that its lyrics are linked thematically. The twelve songs follow a bleak narrative string about the fictional life a substance addicted boxer. Perhaps one of her most heady and heavy works to date -- somehow both dark and luminous at the same time. She makes listening to tales of absolutely heartbreaking hopelessness an enjoyable experience. How does she do it?? Produced by Joe Henry.
Here's the debut solo album by singer/songwriter Jake Mann formerly of Bay Area band The Zim-Zims (you might recall he stepped out on his own for the cdr release Solo Electric EP). If you dig indie rock'n'pop, this gent's your ears' new best buddy! The super fuzzed out guitar lines on songs like "Satellite In Bloomington" could easily be mistaken for something comin' from Sam Coombes and Quasi. Mann keeps his pop tunes' buoyancy weighted down by minor chords and charming hushed vocals. Later in the album, "Mudflat" perks things up a bit, offering sounds akin to the bright, slightly tweaked pop of Olivia Tremor Control. Nicely varied, low-key popcraft.
Jake Mann is a member of Bay Area indie rock band Zim-Zims, but occasionally he's been known to step out on his own to do a little solo action... just him and his trusty electric guitar. His mellow croon is pretty darn reminiscent of Pat Fish from the late 80s/early 90s awesome Brits The Jazz Butcher. This six-song cd-r gives the shut-ins and out-of-towners a chance to hear him all by his lonesome, and preps our ears for his forthcoming full length later this summer. To end your listening experience on an up-note, we might recommend you press 'stop' after the fifth song 'cause right after that Mann does what we wish no one would do... he covers "I Can't Wait" by Nu Shooz.
Another winner from Babs, this time accompanied by John Covertino and Joey Burns of Giant Sand and Calexico. The first four tracks comprise a sublime song-suite wherein she plays with homonyms "arson" and "our son," to stunning effect. Covers include songs by Richard Thompson, Bevis Frond, and the Deviants. The last song is an extended, fun Neu! ripoff. Highly recommended!
While touring with cohorts John Convertino and Joey Burns (both of Calexico), Barbara Manning spent some time recording with New Zealand luminaries, David Kilgour of the Clean, David Mitchell and Denise Roughan of the 3D's, Chris Knox, Graeme Roughan of the Verlaines, and the Renderers. The resulting album is a brooding yet gentle collection of tales of fatalistic love.
Lately I Keep Scissors... One Perfect Green Blanket... do these phrases conjure warm fuzzies in your pop luvvin' heart? They do? Then you know that they're the titles of two early albums by the lovely one-time Bay Area songstress Barbara Manning. The former was her debut album originally released in 1988 and the latter was a collection of compilation and flexidisc tracks which came out in 1991 (both on the Heyday indie record label). And you might also like to know that today's a happy day 'cause they've been remastered and reissued along with a third cd of previously unreleased material.
They simply don't make indie pop like this any more. Unassuming, sweet and smart poignant songs in league with those of singer/songwriters Grant McLennan, David Kilgour, Lois Maffeo, and Lida Husik.
The three discs are packaged together in a box with a booklet filled with snapshots, reviews and personal accounts from a bunch of her friends. Snuggle up.
Collection of 4-track demos, compilation contributions, 7"s and otherwise rare tracks dating back to 1986 and extending up to 2000.
The prolific pop mistress Barbara Manning is back for another go-round with the Go-Luckys. Ten tunes of jangling guitars, her ever-young and sprightly voice and a ghostly flight here and there of musical saw. All the low-key prettiness we've come to expect
Ms. Manning may have left the Bay Area and now sings songs about homelessness, but her heart is still in the right place and she's still writing lovely, emotional songs with her new (Italian?) bandmates. Nice import ep (six songs) in slipcase with foldout artwork.
Last year we got turned on to the music of Marc Manning, and we instantly fell in love with his wonderful music. He's got quite the touch for creating dark, haunting and mesmerizing tracks both on his own and with his band Tied To Branches. His newest solo outing might be his moodiest release yet, slow and creeping songs with buried vocals, and a dark tinged shoegaze vibe that we love so much. Imagine tracks by Spiritualized and Felt slowed way down and doused in heavy sonic molasses and an extra narcotic haze. We also think folks who dig records by Rameses III, Jon Poras, Windy & Carl, Scott Tuma, and Grouper should check this out right away. This is one of those awesome records that makes just as much sense to listen to first thing in the morning or in the depths of a bleak, sleepless night.
Slowcore might have disappeared, but damn, Manning is doing an amazing job of bringing it back. But this is no rehash as he brings synths, rustic guitar, drone and dream pop all together in a seamless mix, making for an album that's going to be near our side all winter long. Highly recommended!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Totally moving, ominous and breathtaking sounds from this San Francisco artist who uses his voice, guitars, delay, and feedback to create wonderfully mysterious, haunting and beautiful music. Imagine a stripped down version of Earth joining forces with a Grouper, all dazed and dreamy and stately, and you start to get an idea of the soundworld Manning is exploring here. And it's not just a simple take on any one genre, not straight drone, or noise, or pop, or post-rock or goth, or doom, yet it combines elements of all of those to create something unlike most of the sounds being created by the new wave of underground bedroom lo-fi music makers.
Here's A Breaking Sound also has this awesome vibe and atmosphere that sounds a little like some of our favorite Swans records playing at a WAY slower speed or perhaps bands like Low and Codeine swathed in gobs of fuzz and distortion. We also can't help but hear bits of Hala Strana, Christina Carter's Bastard Wing project, and Tom Carter music stripped down bare bones, fused with elements or a much more primitive Loren Mazzacane Conners. There is this sprawling loner country vibe that runs through the record in such an amazing way. Like Flying Saucer Attack wandering all alone through the desert and setting up one amp in the middle of nowhere to play these mesmerizing songs to the earth and sky and spirits.
There is also a warmth and sense of song that is so much missing in many similar minded projects. What makes Here's A Breaking Sound really stand out is that you really do feel an emotional response to the songs. They don't hit you over the head or try to impress you with their extremity, but instead they understand the power of starkness and subtlety, a potent musical mood that brings evokes such darkly rustic daydreams. Highly recommended!
Oh, and each cover is hand drawn and we're not sure how many of these he made so better to act fast on this one.
San Francisco-based artist and sound-scapist, Marc Manning delivers a new tape of beautiful feedback-drenched gloom rock dirges. Using what sounds like processed keyboards and guitars, the 5 pieces here range in duration from just under a minute to the side-long blackened interplanetary transmission, "Jupiter". And it covers just as much sonic terrain from weary sonambulent passages to narcoleptic synth-rock with buried vocals to galactic wails of noisy buzzing distortion. Heavy on the shoegaze vibe, but resulting in something much doomier, the pieces on this new tape also carry a quality of bleak prettiness, in that given the right volume we can be lulled to a lucid dreaming state of restless bliss through its dark majestic sojourn of sound. Limited to 50 copies, each one a red tape in a soft plastic case with a pasted unique handdrawn cover.
Gerard Manset is an underground French treasure, recording records since the late '60s but always avoiding the public spotlight, refusing to do interviews, appear on TV or play any of the other silly games often required to attain mainstream success. With a totally seductive voice, and lush arrangements that are as powerful as they are beautiful, this album recorded during the student riots in Paris in 1968 has become one of those discs we can't stop listening to! There is an urgency and passion in these songs rarely heard in modern music. Manset has the same kind of presence and elegance as folks like Serge Gainsbourg, Caetano Veloso, Michel Polnareff and Scott Walker. This is not ye-ye fluffy French pop. Don't get us wrong we love that stuff, but what makes Manset so damn great is how his songs are so melodic and catchy while also being so sensual and impassioned. Totally smart arrangements that will appeal to both psych and pop lovers. We recently learned that Manset has an extensive back-catalog and we can't wait to start getting our hands on as much of it as possible, but until then let's all get swept up in 1968!
Poor misunderstood Charlie Manson. Visionary, musician, troubador, murderer. Wait, one of those things he is not. Murderer. That's right, let's not forget that Manson committed no murders himself, it was his 'Family' that did 'em. Which of course insured that these recordings would be both way more infamous than they would be otherwise, but at the same time would be poison to any one who agreed to release them. Recorded a couple years before the Tate-LaBianca murders, these recordings have a rich convoluted history: it was rumored that the intended victim of the murders was in fact a record producer that rejected this record, and every producer approached to release them later recieved death threats, and it was later proven that much more succesful musicians than Manson had been taargeted for assasination! Phew. You'd never know it listening to this album. In fact, in a blind listening test, you'd be hard pressed to pick this out as the work of a soon to be incarcerated cult leader / mass murderer. Reverb drenched beatniky psychedelic freekfolk, sort of hippy and trippy but really pretty great. And Manson's voice is really nice, a little rough, a little raw, but warm and rich. The tracks range from gorgeous lilting dream folk to tripped out beatnik jams, to sixties psych rock, complete with bongos, acoustic guitar, strange clattery percussion, noodly electric leads, all with lots of delay and reverb giving the whole thing a rich shimmery vibe. Not all that surprising as Manson was BIG into music. Read any of the Brian Wilson / Beach Boys bios, and you'll find the Boys spending a great deal of time hanging with Manson, who seemd to always be a fixture at big Beach Boys bashes, and threw wild parties at his desert hideaway Spahn Ranch. And indie rockers have been obsessed with Manson Sings for years, always talking it up as a lost folk gem and sometimes even covering Manson's songs (the Lemonheads do a killer (sorry) version of "Home Is Where You're Happy").
Fans of the current crop of indie hippy forest folk, like Devendra, Feathers, Wooden Wand, Fursaxa and the like should realize, if they don't already, and whether they like it or not, that they have a freak folk father figure in the form of one Charles Manson...
This new version has extensive liner notes by Phil Kaufman, road manager of the Stones, Joe Cocker, Frank Zappa and others, ESP label honcho Bernard Stollman, as well as an interview with Manson himself.
We reviewed the Charles Manson Sings disc on ESP a while back, and everyone kinda freaked out. We couldn't keep 'em in stock. Cuz beyond being a psycho, and a cult leader, and the mastermind behind a handful of gruesome killings, he was also some sort of musical visionary, a damaged folk troubador, obsessed with music, and with becoming an actual musician like his pals in the Beach Boys, his songs were dark and brooding, but strangely beautiful, haunting, intimate and personal. He had a really unique voice to, throaty and velvety smooth, like a raspier Nick Drake.�
This set of songs was recorded after just getting out of a prison stretch in the '60s, almost a year before he recorded his first and only proper album, and another year before the Tate / Labianca murders that would seal his place in history forever.�
The sound is rough and raw and lo-fi, but only adds to the strange power of these songs and performances. We described the recordings on Sings as "reverb drenched beatniky psychedelic freekfolk" and while there is some of that here, the sound here is much more stripped down and traditional sounding. Barebones and simple, it's all about Manson's voice and the guitar, and both sound divine. Moody and melancholy, slightly hippy, dark and thoughtful and really intense and pretty. Sure serial killer obsessives will be all over this, especially because most of the tracks have Manson going off on weird little rants after or before each song, stories, jokes, philosophies, usually delivered with a self conscious giggle, snippets of conversation with the guy recording these sessions or whoever else happens to be in the room. There's even a three minute interview included. It's definitely a bit creepy, especially knowing how everything would end up.�
But the music, taken on its own, is still super powerful, some gorgeously raw chunks of raw acoustic folk. Fans of classic stuff like Nick Drake, Townes Van Zandt, Bill Fay, as well as folks into Banhart, Vetiver, Espers, Fursaxa, Wooden Wand and any of the more song oriented modern freakfolks will definitely dig this like crazy, and probably oughta pick up the ESP disc as well...
Jeffrey Manson is a new indie folk troubadour from right here in SF. This lo-fi home recorded album is filled with rootsy, rough hewn tunes which seems very much inspired by the earnest heart baring voice of Jeff Mangum. Best listened to in the great outdoors, far from the roar of the city. Dozing In The Abandoned Gunnery was released on the new indie label Recolote Music whose roster already includes a number of other likeminded homespun Bay Area artists such as Chinatown Bakeries, Ryan Stively & His Poison Band, and Port O'Brien. They release mostly limited run cdrs in lovingly handmade packaging.
Like it or not, Marilyn Manson has become a prophet for the white teenage disenfranchised, preaching all sorts of ill-conceived / anti-establishment messages against the existence of God, the authority of family, school, or state, and anything that the right wing of mainstream America would qualify as morally upstanding. It would be another thing if Marilyn Manson the prophet could actually incite revolutionary thought or action, rather than highly theatrical shock tactics, but he doesn't. Marilyn Manson is pure entertainment, and there's no way that he could deny that.
I think it's a stretch to discuss Manson within the discourse of the Gothic, simply because in my opinion, he fails to invoke terror or horror (except in the minds of the right wing -- but what doesn't startle them?). It would be far more repulsive, abject, and grotesque if all of the things which Manson professes to worship were done within a belief system which attempted to understand the nature of God and of divine punishment. Then the damnation which he has already put upon his head would actually mean something.
Without any guiding belief system or agenda of existential questioning, Marilyn Manson is nothing but a run of the mill Relativist, which -- while antithetical to Christianity -- does not make Manson a Satanist or the Anti-Christ.
Musically is where Manson has the better chance of success -- and yeah, it's pretty catchy -- sorta like a pop grindcore version of Adam Ant. Lead single "Disposable Teens" is a carbon copy of "Beautiful People". But no, it's certainly not scary.
I really wonder how much the goth subculture will be altered by this album, as very little of the doom & gloom found on previous Marilyn Manson releases is present. Nonetheless, his / their new visual aesthetics of anthropomorphic plasticity (which is not too far from a Photoshop version of Matthew Barney's weird prosthetic fusions with goats, sheep, fish, etc...) recall the electro glam posturing of Gary Numan and are matched by the new wave electro on the album.
The prolific Mick Harris (Scorn, Painkiller) and an Italian guy (different from the Overload Lady one) as a collaborator...
Karen Mantler has been quietly carving her own unique niche in the New York jazz world since the mid-to late eighties. The daughter of famous New Jazz stalwarts Carla Bley and Michael Mantler, Karen is an altogether different kind of offbeat jazz performer, one that should be much more wider known. She recorded several albums in the eighties and nineties with her band, Her Cat Arnold (yes, that was the name of the band taken after her beloved cat), that combined pop musical structures and noir-ish cabaret jazz with a defeatist deadpan black humor. One of our all time favorite Christmas songs is her wonderfully dreary tune "I Love Christmas" from her second album. Her sound is sort of like if Peggy Lee (especially her song "Is That All There Is?") or Blossom Dearie were scoring an early Jim Jarmusch film like Stranger Than Paradise, or even Scorsese's After Hours. Off-kilter, slightly arty, but altogether extremely listenable and relatably funny.
That same dark humorous tone permeates through her latest release on ECM, a suite of charmingly hapless complaints that range from the plights of homeless people, the aftermath of breakups, the expensiveness of lawyers, the malaise of winter, poor business and stupid volcanos that ground her at airports. The arrangements are stripped down to just piano, bass and guitar with occasional harmonica and clarinet that traverse a middle ground of lyrical rhythm of bummed out resignation without being too maudlin or too upbeat. You don''t hear jazz songwriters like this anymore. One that has incredible musical chops but is not afraid to be straight up at the expense of laughing at herself. She's a goddamn treasure!
Long awaited full length debut from these local purveyors of druggy jangly psych pop after two super limited and now out of print ep jams, this new one though is by far the best sounding and most fully realized of the three. Falling somewhere beteen the current crop of lo-fi garage pop weirdos, and more classic space jammers, the Mantles create blissed out grooves, wrapped in tons of hazy reverb, the drums are a simple pound, the vocals a weary shadow, the guitars though, they drive these songs, they're thick, and crunchy, sometimes angular and jagged, sometimes shimmery and melodic, there's some warm whirring organ here and there, a classic rock vibe infuses the whole thing, the Velvets of course, the Doors (in the way the Shjips channel the Doors), as well as eighties New Zealand pop, nineties college rock slouch and jangle a la Sebadoh, catchy and groovy and psychedelic, not fucked up or far out, just propuslive and intense, and as the record progresses, the songs seem to get more and more ragged, often erupting into full on garage psych jams. These guys play all the time with bands like Thee Oh Sees, Ty Segall and those sorts of cats, so odds are if you dig that stuff, you'll dig these guys too.
Comes with a printed lyric sheet and a digital download card.
Full length number three from these local, psychedelic jangle-poppers and it's another glorious blast of sunshiny retro pop garage psych, that owes as much to C86 twee pop and early Flying Nun NZ indie pop as it does to the druggy mesmer of the Velvet Underground. All Odds End seems even more washed out and dreamy than the previous two records, at least the opening one-two punch of "Island" and "Lay It Down", but then "Police My Love" cranks it up, adds some fuzz, and some almost funky sounding bass, channeling some serious post punk into there otherwise wistful jangle, crunchy, and dynamic, and one of our favorite Mantles jams yet. The whole record is just gem after gem, whether it's the acoustic melancholy of "Lately", the organ swaddled garage fuzz of "Hate To See You Go" or the shuffling reverb-pop of "Undelivered", the Mantles are masters of bygone pop, managing to touch on all our favorite jangle pop tropes, but making it sound fresh, and original, and crazy catchy. The Mantles are like a more laidback, dreamier version of your favorite Castle Face band, drawing from many of the same sonic influences, but delivering it filtered through their paisley, prismatic sonic filter, resulting in some of the sweetest jangle you're likely to hear all year.
Whew! Here's quite an anthology of the rehearsal tapes that Mark Cunningham dug up from the archives. Mars is a band that really shouldn't need any introduction, as they were one of the four seminal No Wave outfits along with Teenage Jesus & The Jerks, James Chance & The Contortions, and DNA, featured on the No New York compilation from 1978. At the time of that compilation, the band had only issued one single, but they recorded furiously with enough material to warrant the 78 album released by Lydia Lunch in the late '80s and a couple of live recordings some 20+ years after the fact.
According to the insightful liner notes from Mars' bassist Mark Cunningham, the band's origins date back to late 1978 when Connie Burg (aka Lucy Hamilton) and Cunningham met Sumner Crane and Nancy Arlen. Aside from Crane's ability to play the piano and Cunningham's school days with a trumpet, Mars was an entirely self-taught proposition, trying to learn the basics of rock'n'roll through their collective infatuation with the Velvet Underground. The first tape of this 3 cassette anthology features the band in their earliest, acoustic mode with Crane on piano, Burg on acoustic guitar, Cunningham on bass, and Arlen on "paper bag percussion." At that time, the band christened themselves China (a moniker later adopted by Burg); and they loosely worked through bluesy, drone-rock numbers that had the primitive fug of the Velvets or the Monks, minus all of the feedback squalor given the acoustic set up. The switch from acoustic to electric is described in Dylan-esque terms, along with the name change to Mars as well as introductions to Lydia Lunch and James Chance being instrumental in the development into a tour-de-force project of rhythmic dislocation and atonal distortion. As charming as the early tracks are, the potential for Mars becomes self-evident by the second tape and onward, as their songs began to lurch through the rhythm section and the strange, detuned guitars chimed into what could be seen as the 'classic' Mars sound of such noise-rock madness of "Helen Forsdale" (an obvious precursor to Sonic Youth) and the swampy morass of "The Immediate Stages Of The Erotic" (without which there would probably be no Wolf Eyes or Black Dice). Alternate mixes of the Brian Eno recordings for the No New York compilation are found on this collection as well as some mystery tracks of which Cunningham has no idea about their origin.
This set marks the third (and presumably final) pressing for these tapes. We'll try to keep these in stock, but don't hold your breath.
Of the four bands that graced the No New York compilation, Mars has always been the most enigmatic, having only recorded 32 minutes of music in the studio. Yet, their sound has been vastly influential upon the development of bands like Sonic Youth and the Swans as well as every single band that seeks to embrace the No Wave spirirt. In their very short career (spanning something like 18 months), the Mars sound was defined by psychotic / narcoleptic investigations into thoroughly damaged improvisations; yet, their early ventures into structured songs (i.e. "3E," "11,000 Volts," and "Helen Fordsdale,") are so jaw-droppingly energetic, complex, and curiously catchy that their evolution into the abstract can be a bit frustrating. Yet, it is precisely this tension between the the proto-Daydream Nation, avant-punk riffs they clearly had a knack for and the delirious throbs of noise that became Mars signature and that has made Mars so compelling after all these years. For die-hard Mars fans, these recordings are in fact the original masters that bassist Mark Cunningham found a few years back. The earlier Mars retrospective 78+ originally released on Lydia Lunch's Widowspeak and later on Atavistic found Jim "Foetus" Thirlwell reconstructing many of the recordings which had been considered lost. Regardless, Mars was an amazing band who was well ahead of their time, and this document clearly proves that. This deluxe LP is limited to 1000 copies, athough it is still available on cd as well.
Of the four bands that graced the No New York compilation, Mars has always been the most enigmatic, having only recorded 32 minutes of music in the studio. Yet, their sound has been vastly influential upon the development of bands like Sonic Youth and the Swans as well as every single band that seeks to embrace the No Wave spirirt. In their very short career (spanning something like 18 months), the Mars sound was defined by psychotic / narcoleptic investigations into thoroughly damaged improvisations; yet, their early ventures into structured songs (i.e. "3E," "11,000 Volts," and "Helen Fordsdale,") are so jaw-droppingly energetic, complex, and curiously catchy that their evolution into the abstract can be a bit frustrating. Yet, it is precisely this tension between the the proto-Daydream Nation, avant-punk riffs they clearly had a knack for and the delirious throbs of noise that became Mars signature that has made Mars so compelling after all these years. For die-hard Mars fans, these recordings are in fact the original masters that bassist Mark Cunningham found a few years back. The earlier Mars retrospective 78+ originally published on Lydia Lunch's Widowspeak and later on Atavistic found Jim "Foetus" Thirlwell reconstructing many of the recordings which had been considered lost. Regardless, Mars was an amazing band who was well ahead of their time, and this document clearly proves that.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
The Mars Volta, the still relatively youthful captains of the league of recent prog progeny, have consistently presented themselves as a very promising sonic entity of cryptic cerebral progressive substance. However despite what they themselves might believe, it seems the shoes they're trying to fill still might require some growin' in. With Amputechture, they've sure shorn the last of their At The Drive-In-ness (both musically and appearance-wise including one large 'fro). Really, on paper it all sounds fantastic... sci-fi inspired, Latin salsa infused prog rock, but what comes out of the speakers sounds more like aimless prog-styled noodly guitar solos and ill-conceived pretentious posturing that lacks the direction, composition and fortitude of its forefathers. And to be honest, there are a million bands doing this modern metallic prog thing a whole lot better. Weirder, heavier, more complex, more energetic, more inspired, take your pick, Chiodos, Circa Survive, Coheed And Cambria... And while we love John Frusciante (at least his fucked up solo records, his presence on the album doesn't help matters much if at all. A high falutin' disappointment.
Now on vinyl in the form of this ultra deluxe triple lp set!!!
Uh oh. Here we are again, with the band that creates lovers or haters more than any other I know. Although, I have to say, personally I'm kind of on the fence about them! Jon Theodore is one of the most amazing drummers I've ever seen or heard. Their live show is absolutely entertaining, especially when joined by John Frusciante, who's contribution of a second incessant guitar solo seems to make their music make sense. As well, Omar and Cedric's pants are just so tight, it is unbelievable. Their Tremulant EP was shocking. It was this full-on indie-power-prog, like nothing I'd heard before. Their music went somewhere... and kept on going... though, I don't think I understood exactly "where". Their debut full-length, Deloused In The Comatorium (with its odd name and pretty terrible artwork) was still totally beyond me. Not truly prog, not truly indie-pop... someplace in between, with technical insanity, near-constant meter-changes and polyrhythm incessantry. A lot of people seemed to take MV as though they were a total mess of music: ornate, pompous, not at all worthy of any ounce of praise, let alone the legions of "extreme" fans all over the world.
Now, Frances The Mute, their second full-length, is monolithic at 77 minutes long. Despite that length, it seems to be a bit more digestible. I would certainly have something that felt like jet-lag if I had to listen to the whole thing in one sitting, but to dedicated fans, of which there are many, this will hardly be enough power-progtastic-indie-pop. And of course, MV still features Lars Ulrich's and my favorite drummer, Jon Theodore.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Hey Mars Volta completists! Here's another striking picture disc from these post-prog cool kids. Not the place to start if you're just getting acquainted with these fellows. Head straight for their Tremulant EP first. Limited pressing of 5000.
This latest release from modern prog heroes Mars Volta finds them at their orchestrated and organized best. Omar Rodriguez Lopez lays on the guitar effects while Cedric Bixler Zavala's vocals soar above and beyond into the stratosphere. There's a lot of extended build ups (as one has grown to expect) and some really crazy drum work on this record (especially on "Cotopaxi"). Though most of the eight tracks rock almost beyond belief, there are a couple sloooow, dreamy jams that almost require closed eyes and a doobie to fully appreciate.
Eeep, that rather gnarly album title and one particularly excessive guitar solo in the 11th track aside, this live album from nouveau world proggy youths The Mars Volta will surely please their many fans (hell, maybe those two things won't bother you). Although it clocks in at just under 74 minutes (not really all that long for a prog-rock journey, is it?) of tripped-out jams, more structured songs and surprising little crowd noise, some of us found Scabdates to be somewhat long-winded and self-indulgent... but we're sure for the diehards the time will fly by. Not the first nor best place to start if you're just now getting around to a first encounter with these fellows though (if that's the case, check out their awesome debut Tremulant cdep -- a tight concise workout to launch you into the MV orbit).
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Hey Mars Volta completists! Here's another striking picture disc from these post-prog cool kids. Not the place to start if you're just getting acquainted with these fellows. Head straight for their Tremulant EP first. Limited pressing of 5000.
Over the past six years The Mars Volta has always torn it up. Their roster has boasted some serious players with amazing chops, but their songs could be long-winded, self-indulgent and overtly wanky (example: 2006's Amputecture). Still, you can't knock 'em too hard. Since their awesome Tremulant debut back in 2002, they've tirelessly brought their often seemingly impervious ethno-proggy sounds to the youthful masses who in turn have devoured them and continue to clamber for more. Starting the year off with a fierce bang, The Bedlam In Goliath is this tight, well-oiled music machine's most infectious and accessible work since that first ep. Yet, it's still driven by the epic, the techy and the cerebral. Sure to please their devotees and win them some new ones too. Pssst, a little aside: Cedric's vocals are sounding their most pitchshifted-up-up-up into the shrill Chipmunks stratosphere. As far as we know they aren't processed but they are totally crazy!
Seeming galaxies away from their former band At The Drive-In, Cedric Bixler and Omar Rodriguez have crafted a most artful and expansive major label debut which surges forth beautifully from their 2002 "Tremulant" 3-song EP. Bixler's vocals take untethered flight into the upper stratosphere bringing to mind the highly affecting vocal acrobatics of forefathers Jon Anderson of Yes or Rush's Geddy Lee. Actually at some points, Bixler's voice soars to near-Bjork heights of emotionality. Rodriguez's songwriting moves even further into mind-spinning prog, psych and jazz-imbued complexities.
The Mars Volta stampedes unrelenting through most of this album only occasionally slowing things somewhat to draw the listener through mysterious subterranean drones and pulses. Looming like the most foreboding of thunderheads, and coming down in taut, torrential downpours, the stirring tech-rock maneuvers are precise and skillfully executed.
This release will undoubtably receive much attention for the band members' lineage as well as the notable individual playing bass -- Flea! -- however this is by no means the Flea Hour. His playing fits seamlessly, but it's the chemistry between the five core players which is the dynamic key. The two fellows were joined once again by Jon Theodore, Ikey Owens, and the late Jeremy Ward. Produced by Rodriguez and Rick Rubin. A most challenging and rewarding listen. An additional note: Cover design by Hipgnosis mainman Storm Thorgerson and Coil's Peter Christopherson.
Uh oh. Here we are again, with the band that creates lovers or haters more than any other I know. Although, I have to say, personally I'm kind of on the fence about them! Jon Theodore is one of the most amazing drummers I've ever seen or heard. Their live show is absolutely entertaining, especially when joined by John Frusciante, who's contribution of a second incessant guitar solo seems to make their music make sense. As well, Omar and Cedric's pants are just so tight, it is unbelievable. Their Tremulant EP was shocking. It was this full-on indie-power-prog, like nothing I'd heard before. Their music went somewhere... and kept on going... though, I don't think I understood exactly "where". Their debut full-length, Deloused In The Comatorium (with its odd name and pretty terrible artwork) was still totally beyond me. Not truly prog, not truly indie-pop... someplace in between, with technical insanity, near-constant meter-changes and polyrhythm incessantry. A lot of people seemed to take MV as though they were a total mess of music: ornate, pompous, not at all worthy of any ounce of praise, let alone the millions of "extreme" fans all over the world.
Now, Frances The Mute, their second full-length, is monolithic at 77 minutes long. Despite that length, it seems to be a bit more digestible. I would certainly have something that felt like jet-lag if I had to listen to the whole thing in one sitting, but to dedicated fans, of which there are many, this will hardly be enough power-progtastic-indie-pop. And of course, MV still features Lars Ulrich's and my favorite drummer, Jon Theodore.
Hark, all ye kids and collectors! The B-side of this 12" single is a live version of The Mars Volta's heartfelt power-prog ballad "The Widow" recorded at LA's Wiltern Theater on May 6th, 2004. The album version can be heard on their latest release, Frances The Mute (which happens to also be the title of the A-side of this record), but you probably already knew that.
If you've been in search of some new and exciting sounds, you simply should not miss this introductory EP to The Mars Volta. Although this sextet will undoubtedly receive much attention for two of its members' past band (Omar and Cedric were the most recognizable members of At The Drive-In) not to mention the presence of Jon Theodore (of Golden and formerly of Royal Trux and Him) on drums, they fully deserve to be taken on their own ground.
The Mars Volta are determined *not* to take the path of least resistance by retracing the steps they've already trod. Instead, they're traversing a fresh, dynamic terrain. Crafting intricate, multi-layered songs with a definite *prog* angle. Shades of King Crimson and Yes (and U2 in the vocals, but it's not annoying at all). And they've got the chops to successfully execute their formidable mission. The vocals - so untethered, hoarse and fiery in ATDI - are here molded into an emotional falsetto that rings clear and strong with additional effected ones adding an air of alienation. The music is an amazing, intricate blend of ultra-tight drumming, deep bass, keyboards and guitar made even more potent and unsettling by carefully arranged, foreboding samples and electronics. Oh and in case I didn't make myself clear... They absolutely rock! If these three songs are any indication, they will be a force to be reckoned with. Blistering!
Please note: this is not to be confused with DeFacto (TMV members Omar, Cedric, Jeremy and Ikey's experimental dub side project).
More elfin voices from the land of Kindercore Records. Very very mellow. No pun intended. Little tunes that meander around a bit with pretty harmonies and flourishes. Like frolicking aimlessly down a rambling path in the woods on a sunny afternoon pausing briefly for a dip in a creek or a bite of wild berries. Starring Julian Koster and Scott Spillane (Elephant 6 gadabouts) on musical saw and flugelhorn respectively.
First release we've listed from these Sonoron desert drugged-out weirdos, and as far as first releases go, it doesn't hit much harder than this. The punk/hardcore pedigree of Marshstepper's members shows in both their aesthetic and rigorous touring schedule, but the music on here is much more twisted and disorienting than most punk. Seeing Marshtepper live (or just listening to this really fuckin' loud) is probably the best way of truly appreciating how MASSIVE these guys sound. Lurching, industrial nastiness (think the slow, haunting rhythms of 20 Jazz Funk Greats) gives way to cavernous walls of pulsating synth and guitar that bring to mind the apocalyptic soundscapes of aQ fave Theologian. These guys have been BUSY touring everywhere and releasing a series of cassettes on Tempe label Ascetic House, and it's fair to say that any future output is only going to improve. Probably fairly limited, housed in a mysterious sleeve with three awesome and mysterious pictures inside, and also no indication whether this is supposed to be 33 or 45 rpm (it's 33).
The minimal wave rolls on! Martial Canterel is the work of Sean McBride whose darkened electronic tunes have come to us by way of his work with Liz Wendelbo as Xeno & Oaklander; and this album actually predates the exceptional Saracen record from Xeno & Oaklander. That said, all of his productions could have come via some Belgian post-punk imprint circa 1982, so the exact timing of his records matters little. There's plenty of similarities between his solo work and his work in Xeno & Oaklander, meaning that if you loved that record, this will not disappoint. Recorded entirely on analogue sequencers, synthesizers, and drum machines and first released as a cassette (foreshadowing the current resurgence of tape releases by a couple of years!), Refuge Underground bristles with dark pulsing energy, snapped around whip-cracking drum programming, tinny metallic sequences, and seriously infectious melodic arppegiations (think the best of DAF, Dark Day, Nitzer Ebb, or Absolute Body Control). McBride's monotone somber delivery accentuates the moods set through his cold and sparse, synth-pop constructions. Another great recapitulation of the past-future from Wierd Records.
Here's another lost gem from Minimal Wave, the label that has been digging deep, very deep into the realms of post-punk and new wave to uncover many a release that might have been lost. For those who have procured plenty of terminal obscurities from such blogspots as Mutant Sounds, No Longer Forgotten Music, or Systems of Romance, some of the reissues on Minimal Wave may be familiar. But these are no grey area reissues. Minimal Wave has assured us that they have taken great care to procure the rights for each of these recordings!
Martin Dupont was a French new wave band with a brief run in the mid '80s, and according to Minimal Wave, the band had acquired something of a cult status in their homeland for their peculiar take on synth-pop. Amidst the catchy melodies and mechanoid drum machines, Martin Dupont alternated between the wailing, barking vocals of Alain Seghir and the ethereal voices of Catherine Loy and Brigitte Balain. Kraftwerk and Joy Division are the references that the band claimed as their own; but their sound resembles the crypto-weirdness of Fad Gadget complete with splatters of trumpet, disjointed left-field rhythms, and purposefully over the top theatrics care of Seghir.
