The first installment in a new series on Beta-Lactam Ring called the Drone Compendium series, curated by none other than Mr. Aidan Baker, he of mighty dronedoomdirge duo Nadja, and as is befitting his status as curator, the first installment is in fact a Baker record, entitled Pure Drone, and the record delivers precisely what the title promises. Recorded live in 2010, the A side, while pure drone, is definitely more than a single tone, or a simple bit of minimal hum. Instead, the sound is lush and layered, a sprawling, smoldering expanse of dreamlike drift, a soft focus slow build, rife with subtle melodies that gradually reveal themselves, beneath subtly shifting textures, laced with streaks of high end and pulsing almost-rhythms and shimmering overtones. The B side is a bit more subdued, a little more minimal, but still lush and lovely, the tonal colorations surfacing in the second half, after a long dark droney bit of hypnotic thrum, the sounds seeming to blossom, the light up, it sounds like watching a star appear from behind a planet as the orbits shift, that sort of fundamental, monumental sonic power, the melodies glimmering and glittering in the alien starlight, so gorgeous.
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES, packaged in super swank heavy jackets!
Originally released (albeit only digitally) in 2005, Songs Of Flowers & Skin reveals a side of Aidan Baker we love, but only rarely get to see, and it's his slowcore side, channeling the spirit of groups like Codeine and Bedhead and Seam, creating dark, drifting slow motion pop songs, that creep and crawl and unfurl gorgeously and gradually. Like we said, those moments do surface in his discography, especially solo, where he seems more inclined to introspection and less to doomgaze, but this record offers up a whole disc of proper songs, slow, languorous, dark, haunting, melancholy songs, with singing and lyrics and proper rock band instrumentation, augmented by trumpet and violin, it's really quite lovely.
The record opens with "Skin Like Sand", a serpentine guitar figure wraps around simple minimal skeletal drumming, vocals are crooned softly, actually sung, but this IS Aidan Baker, so it's not nearly that simple, the track is laced with bits of glitch, streaks of crackle, and the vocals are strangely processed, so in the background, little vocal snippets echo the main voice, making it sound ghostly and dreamlike. The next few tracks get almost jazzy sounding, upping the tempo a bit, but keeping the mood dour and depressive, "Dance Dance Dance" is a smoky trumpet flecked ballad, all reverbed guitar and sizzling cymbals, "Second Selves" sounds almost Spanish, a little bit of a Morricone vibe, a regal almost march, the horns and strings, sweeping and dramatic, very cinematic, "Take Me Out Of My" is another skittery slow groove, that sounds almost like it could be American Music Club, if it weren't for the strange static and whirling organ drones.
Almost the entire second half of the disc is taken up by the nearly half hour long "Flowerskin" (although some of that is silence hiding a secret track, more on that in a second), begins as a slowly building driftscape of long tones, mysterious electronic glitches and truncated rhythms, before the song proper kicks in, another brooding meander, the glitch and crackle and hiss even more pronounced here, sometimes almost blotting out the song completely, there is an almost Nadja worthy climax, but it's more soft focus and subdued, a swirling cloud of warm washed out drones and tangled streaks of buzz, before sputtering out and leaving nothing but silence. Which is eventually supplanted by a gorgeously dark and melancholy dirge folk ballad, just acoustic guitar and vocals, hushed and haunting and quite beautiful.
Maybe not for the Nadja doombliss dronemetal obsessives, but fans of past AB solo outings, as well as anyone into dark, intimate, minimal slowcore and dark brooding doom pop, will definitely want to check this out.
A pretty perfect matchup, Aidan Baker, 1/2 of doom drone duo Nadja, and avant-drone guitarist / filmmaker Sarah Lipstate aka Noveller, who both offer up some of their prettiest sounds for this collection of Colorful Disturbances.
Lipstate starts things off with a gorgeous smoldering driftscape, a sea of tinkling chiming high end melodies draped over soft swells of buzz and crunch, while within a pulsing blur holds it all together. Dreamy and divine, definitely the sort of track that could have been double or triple the length. Her second contribution is just as good, a bit more minimal, slightly glitchier and buzzier, but still serene and dreamlike, with a slightly ominous vibe, reverbed guitars are left to float in a constantly swirling cloud of sonic grit and soft focus hiss, that hiss constantly changing shapes and revealing partially obscured sounds and voices and melodies. So nice, this too could have filled up the whole side and we would have been perfectly happy.
Baker contributes a single 20 minute sidelong drift, all washed out glimmery tones, long and blurred and smeary and indistinct, creating a slow shifting layered landscape of gauzy soft focus colors, sun dappled and prismatic, warm and muted and totally lovely. Easily one of the prettiest tracks we've heard from AB for sure. Like we said, a perfect match!
Vinyl only and limited, so grab one before they disappear...
As if to make up for a relative dearth of releases from Aidan Baker over the last handful of lists, we've got two new ones this week, the collaborative B/B/S/ project, which finds Baker joining up with Svarte Greiner for a gorgeous disc of Necks-like brooding jazziness, and this one, a sort of family affair, a duo of Baker and his brother Richard on drums, and in some ways it's actually a lot like the B/B/S/ record, droned out, trancey and mesmeric, a sort of sprawling hypno-rock minimalism, jazzy and skittery, looped and cyclical, but where B/B/S/ is all low end thrum and murky darkjazz swirls, Smudging is much more psychedelic, and krautrocky, Baker's bass and guitar sounds heavily processed and transformed into soft billowing synth like swells, and long shimmering drones, slipping easily from soft focus dreamdrone riffing, to something way more abstract. Brother Richard's drumming is subtly yet powerful, measured and minimal, but with plenty of expression. Check out the opening track "Sage", which is a gorgeous hazy slowburn motorik kraut-psych shoegaze epic, the sound wreathed in gauzy wisps of atmosphere, and subtly glimmering effects, the track loping and hypnotic, the drums gradually fading out, as the guitars blur and bleed into a gorgeous chordal smear, laced with cool little backward effects and lush softly shifting layers.
The rest of the record follows a similar sonic blueprint, although pushes that sound into interesting directions. "White Desert Cedar" is like the opening track, but wrapped in a crackling field of weirdly distorted FX heavy guitar, the vibe very Circle-like, but way more blissed out, dreamy and druggy, a pulsing psychedelic shoegaze trance-out, that like many of the tracks here, even though lengthy, end way too soon. Things do get even more Circular on the side 1 closer, which explodes into a blown out hypno rock blast, only to have the drums immediately splinter and and instead of a driving krautjam, the song seems to expand into some serious tripped out kosmische heaviness, the guitars swirling and super distorted, the drums wild and chaotic, but still providing a firm anchor for Aidan's soaring sheets of blurred buzz and muted howl.
The flipside slows things down, opening with a brief burst of synth like soft noise, before settling into a dreamy sprawling meander, shuffling and drowsy, all beneath a haunting choral like drone. The follow up too, unfurls gradually, super abstract spaced out drift, keening tones floating above warm bass swells, laced with looped melodies, slow shifting textures, and all manner of cosmic effects, the perfect score for a weightless drift through the abyss, before finally finishing off with another dreamy brooder, a slow jazzy creep, all barely there percussion, hushed guitar filigree, more woozy bass thrum, a dreamy nocturnal skitterscape, darkly cinematic, mysterious and lovely.
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES!!
As we've no doubt mentioned before, metallic post rock seems to be its own little cottage industry, spawning more bands that it's possible to keep up with, and causing lots of bands to suddenly shift their sound, to be either more metal (for the post rock bands), or more post rock (for the metal bands). But as we've also mentioned before, it's tough to complain about a sound that combines two of our favorite musics. Metal, heavy and crushing, doomy and massive, and post rock, with its mathy rhythms, moody melodies, and soaring arrangements.
One of our favorite purveyors of this sound is Rosetta, from Philadelphia, who gave us one of our favorite postrockmetal records a few years back in the form of The Galilean Satellites. The approach for that release was unique, in that one disc was song based, with all the requisite crushing riffs and mathy metallic crush, while the second disc was all ambient, long tracks of swirl and shimmer, drone and rumble.
With the postrockmetal feeding frenzy, we were sure Rosetta were on the fast track to being big names in the scene, but they seem to still remain just below the spotlights, which seems to have done them no harm in terms of new music, their half of this split destroys. Albeit beautifully and dramatically. Two tracks, both topping 10 minutes. Both beginning with plenty of soaring jangle and Godspeed like cinematic build. Guitars chime and ring out, the drums are simple, perfectly supporting the rest of the instruments as they drift skyward. The first track builds and builds in intensity, only becoming truly metallic near the end, when the chiming high end guitars drift off leaving a churning downtuned riff, but even that riff is wrapped in effervescent streaks of glistening far away guitar harmonics, and strange vocal snippets, and rumbling whirring low end drones.
The second track follows a similar pattern, but the heavy parts STAY heavy, with howled guttural vocals, and a very Neurosis-y riff, but again, still surrounded by all sorts of incandescent guitars and dense swirls of ambient buzz.
Rosetta are teamed up with fellow Philly noisemakers Balboa, who also do their own version of the metal math rock, but theirs has a foot firmly planted in punk rock, hardcore to be exact. The first track starts off like a super charged nineties math rock jam, with angular guitars and BIG drums, vocals that are sort of sad boy, but build into full on howls, when all of a sudden, the band lurches into an almost blast beat, a furious punk rock blast, that shifts gears again, into a seriously hooky hardcore groove, sounds like a weird mix, but it sounds amazing. And a perfect foil to the languid expansiveness of Rosetta. The other two songs, don't get as punk rock as the opener, instead, mining more of that nineties math rock sound, Polvo, Dazzling Killmen, Hoover, the songs are loping stretched out grooves, the bass and guitar locked in tight, the drums almost tribal, everything crashing together in huge bursts of metallic emo fury. Pretty great.
And as if that weren't enough, the two bands combine forces for the closer, the title track, which to be honest sounds like it could be either band, as easy as both, BUT, it's amazing, a seriously gorgeously executed, heavy and hooky chunk of mathy metallic rock. From the beginning, a propulsive, almost krautrock jam, that slowly and steadily builds into a seriously thick bout of massive roiling guitars, and chaotic drumming, all downtuned and dripping with distortion, the only hint that this is actually two bands is about three quarters of the way through, when the drummers engage in a relentless double kick dual, over which ALL the guitarists spit out spidery glistening guitar lines, a huge glimmering tangle of melodies that sparkles and shimmers, and as you might expect is quickly sucked under another crushing wave of grinding growling guitar. Awesome stuff. Fans of the usual suspects (Isis, Baroness, Mogwai, Explosions In The Sky, Pelican, Tides, Conifer, Minsk, etc..) most definitely NEED this.
Man, Matt Baldwin just seems to get better and better, taking his already wonderful celestial spaced out guitar playing and constantly pushing his sound further and further out. This super limited self released outing finds Baldwin positioning one short track inbetween two epic 15 minute sprawls which evoke the spirit of Robert Fripp playing a Terry Riley composition or Michael Rother and Steve Reich teaming up for some hypnotic psychedelic kraut guitar drift. Exploring cosmic guitar explorations similar to folks like Mark McGuire and Phil Manley, this is such a wonderful record of truly tripped out and densely dreamy solo guitar. We could go on and on about how much we love this, but considering these are the very last copies left of this cd-r we should probably just say act super fast as we only have ten of these left!
We love our modern Appalachia, tangled steel strings, gorgeous sprawling avant bluegrass, Fahey, Jack Rose, James Blackshaw, Ilyas Ahmed, it's a crowded field, but all the key players manage to create something much more special than just a Fahey rehash. Sure there are tons of folks out there with a guitar, a heavily worn copy of Death Chants, and not an original musical idea in their head, but there are the few, like the above folks mentioned, who took that sound, and were inspired to create their own soundworlds. You can add Matt Baldwin to that list.
It's a little hard to put a finger on what exactly makes Baldwin's sound so special, it could be more of a focus on classic melody, than on pick and strum, the opening track on Paths Of Ignition darkly unfurls into a warm whirring pastoral guitarscape, lots of major key melodies, unlikely harmonies, strange bits of slippery slide, and plenty of electric guitar buzz, some soaring growling leads, all woven into some haunting raga infused psychedelic space folk. The whole track is laced with tangles of wild almost-shredding guitar, deep resonant drones, swirling little melodic flourishes, it all transforms -his- take on Appalachia into something much more tripped out, psych rock and almost poppy in its prettiness.
The rest of the disc hews a little closer to the neo-Appalachia party line, but even then, his tracks slither and buzz, lots of haunting guitar rumble, intricate finger picking, delicate melodies, dreamy and drifty, mysterious and timeless. Except the one cover, the song that actually got us interested in Baldwin in the first place. It's only 4 minutes long, but it's a killer. Baldwin takes on Judas Priest's "Winter" and nails it. The main riff of the original sounds perfect on a steel string, brooding and ominous, beneath that guitar deep swells of buzzing guitardrone pulses and throbs, and the vocals, Baldwin does a pretty excellent Halford, a reverb drenched high pitched croon, complete with vibrato and little trills, the track finishes off with some killer lead guitar, sprawled over that gorgeous languorous main riff, that seems to slither and drift on forever.
Any one into the current crop of modern Appalachian / neo-folk / whatever-you-call-it guitar music will definitely dig this, and while it's worth it for the Priest cover alone, the whole record is pretty fantastic. Now it's up to Blackshaw to cover some old Scorpions, or Rose to take on a classic UFO or Uriah Heep track, so if either of you guys is reading this...
Second collaboration from longtime aQ fave Matt Baldwin and his multi instrumentalist co-conspirator, and like Year Of The Dog before it, Dream Still is another mesmerizing blur of psychedelic layers and swirling looped ambience, think Fripp, Rother, Gottsching and of course Reich and Riley. But instead of en exercise in rigid minimalism, this is some seriously freaky far out psychedelia. Listening to opener "Notes On Entering The Tower", it's not hard to imagine this as some lost recording from the seventies, it's got a little Miles Davis going on, a little Herbie Hancock circa Sextant, Baldwin and Georis delivering a sort of washed out kosmische psych-funk groove that comes in waves, most of the track spent blissfully looping, trance-y and hypnotic, but then the drums slip in and sound builds to something more propulsive and druggy and mesmerizing. Total seventies style psych groove bliss out.
The two part "Dream Still" suite is a bit less druggy, and instead is delicate and dreamlike, the first part almost like classic Appalachia, but the fingerpicked steel string melodies, laced with hushed piano melodies, and wreathed in clouds of swirling sci-fi FX and warm spaced out synth shimmer, while the second part, pushes the sound back into a sort of psychedelic krautrock territory, another loopscape of pulsing synths and layered guitar, hushed and minimal and motorik, with just a hint of that groove from the first track.
Until finally, Baldwin and Georis finish things off with the sprawling 13+ minute "Boogie Corporation", which adds some primitive programmed rhythms to the mix, sounding like a groovier more seventies sounding Expo 70, the guitars layered and looped, not quite a 'boogie', but definitely with some groove going on, and very much in line with the opening track, warm washes of synth shimmer beneath almost-funky guitars, with melodies and textures piling up and constantly shifting, the sounds swirling and space-y, the keyboards dreamily tangled up with the spidery guitars, total trip out celestial psych kraut mesmer, that even at 13 minutes ends way too soon.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. Each one hand numbered. Housed in plain cardstock origami style fold over sleeves, with black and white paste on artwork and a photocopied insert.
After falling so deeply in love with Matt Baldwin's recent cd-r release, Imaginary Psychology, earlier this year, we knew that this bay area guitar wizard had really come into his own, exploring exciting new terrain in reaching epic psychedelic bliss.
This new outing finds Baldwin collaborating with multi-instrumentalist Nico Georgis, as they create two long form pieces that explore a more textured and layered sort of kosmische drift. The first track, "Year Of The Dog", finds Baldwin employing guitar, guitar-synth, as well as loops and delay, while Georis contributes clavinet, Wurlitzer piano, percussion, a Prophet 600, and a MicroKorg to create a meditative movement that's like some pulsating dreamscape conjured up by Robert Fripp, Michael Rother, Ash Ra Tempel, Manuel Gottsching, and/or John Cale. It taps into a sound that folks like Mark McGuire/Emeralds, White Rainbow, Bitchin Bajas, and Arp have been exploring, but with a much more organic and warm approach.
"Juan Carlos" is the other massive track here, an improv psych-jam, that features Juan Carlos Morales Tablada on congas and percussion. It starts with a slow build that immediately entrances as its sounds are both so connected to the earth, yet do such an amazing job of taking you to another dimension. In some ways the vibe makes us think of another one of our favorite cd-r releases from this year, Eat The Earth, by fellow San Francisco psych improv masters 3 Leafs.
Hand numbered and limited to 50 copies, this one is a no brainer. Don't miss out!
As you've no doubt heard us mention before, as much as we love scouring the depths for cool new music (whether it be dusty used bins, garage sales, recommendations from friends or good old fashioned Bandcamp), there's a special joy reserved for aQ walk-in discoveries. That is to say, someone who just strolls into the shop unexpectedly, brandishing an album they've just released - no expectations or preconceived notions. There's nothing quite as exciting as placing said brandished record on the turntable & experiencing that moment of discovery as the realization dawns... It's good. It's reeeeal good. Such is the case with Balms! Seeping through the speakers like dust-speckled rays of hazy sunlight comes some of the most beautifully executed shoegazey dreampop we've heard in quite some time. And for a sound that's arguably in no short supply right now (not that we're complaining) that's really saying something. There's a pitch perfect balance of atmosphere & poppiness here. Guitars twinkle & drip like glittering syrup, the vocals lush & anesthetized, but surprisingly audible. As much as most bands plying in this trade like to bury their vocals in reverb & murk, Balms have a much more direct approach, and the result is an immediate emotional connection, a much more human sounding sort of shoegaze. And though Balms never really get heavy like, say, Nothing or Whirr (although they're sure to appeal to fans of those guys) there's still a rousing drive to their music - it's just a drive that allows the spaciousness of their sound, the bittersweet heartswelling tug of those lost-summer-memory melodies, and the concise hookiness of their songwriting take center stage. It's simple powerful stuff - the kind of record you want to hit repeat on over and over. Without a doubt one of our favorite recent local discoveries, and along with Modern Charms & Dissolve another glittering jewel in San Francisco's dreamy shoegaze crown! For all of those unafraid to get a little starry-eyed, bleary-eyed & teary-eyed this couldn't come more highly recommended!
Here's another release of exceptional quality and artistry from the Kning Disk label, who have previous brought us fine disks from the disparate likes of James Blackshaw, Jerry Johansson, Steffen Basho-Junghans, Wolf Eyes, Giuseppe Ielasi & Nicola Ratti...
Subtly trippy and strangely entrancing, Balroynigress is an art-folk trio melting in the Swedish sun. We were immediately drawn to main man Erik Joer's withered, slightly druggy male vocals that alternately call to mind early Bowie and Mark Linkous of Sparklehorse. His and female vocalist Elvire Soyez's hushed voices wander tremulously amid the somber, bent and broken melodies woven from acoustic guitars, synths, melodica and piano... occasionally getting their boots stuck in the slushy sludge of the gently growling bass. Despite the album's title which to us suggests fizzy cosmopolitan festivities, the ten songs that comprise this Shampoo And Champagne potion are neither bubbly nor urbane. Ungrounded and seemingly far from city lights, they flow freely between the concrete and the intangible, the conscious and the subconscious, conjuring both the deepest of longings and glimmering hallucinations. We like! May also intrigue the fans of Devendra Banhart or Andrew Douglas Rothbard.
Don't dill-dally though! This is a very limited handmade pressing of 900!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Not a geographic location, Balthrop, Alabama is a singer/songwriter! Joining in the band naming tradition of the likes of Boston, Chicago, Kansas et al, former Bay Area now Brooklyn based solo singer/songwriter Pascal Balthrop's latest musical moniker is a place, but a fictional one, mind you! You might know him under his previous musical alias which was simply Pascal. With a new name and new hometown come new sounds, a broader scope, instrument palette and group of musicians to accompany him. On his brand new sprawling concept double (!) cd about big city encroachment on a small town, Balthrop's acoustic songcraft is definitely still very very indebted to Jeff Mangum, John Darnielle and the Elephant 6 Collective, but the telltale signs -- such as a very distinctly emotive singing delivery combined with unabashedly blatty horns -- are a little bit more subsumed into his own realm. His lyrical storytelling is less cryptic or surreal, and the downhome-y album unfolds like an indie pop country fair stage play. Some folks have likened his new songs such as "Love To Love You" to the Hidden Cameras in its peppy exuberance. Fans of all of the abovementioned, hop aboard!
Members of Polish avant-hippy collective Atman (aka Magic Carpathians) are involved with this project, the title of which we think translates into English as "Baltic Whisperings". Recordings of seals swimming in the Baltic Sea are augmented with moog, guitar, woodwinds, plus various other instruments and electronics. They've created an aquatic musical document of bathing, breathing creatures and drifting, gorgeous, and sometimes sinister, shimmering soundscapes. This is the kind of "new age" music we can like. Very limited availability.
An uncommonly sumptuous array of releases was just presented to us courtesy of the young music label Dynamophone. They've only been around since mid-2006, but already have a bountiful catalog of releases, and many more on the way. We think your ears will welcome them with a warm embrace. Particularly if you've been recently enjoying the aquatic drone releases on the Mystery Sea label, you might wish to check out the seemingly likeminded, but more melodically inclined Dynamophone artists. Really, the label is a treasure trove of shimmering and dewy listening delights. Delve in immediately (also see: Disinterested, Halou, Po, Pornopop, A Lily, Curium, and R/R Coseboom)!
This is the label's new release from Balustrade Ensemble, a group which features Grant Miller (also of the very different Mandible Chatter), singer/songwriter/pianist Liam Singer, and Scott Solter (whose worked with the likes of Singer, Mountain Goats, Spoon and Tarentel). Their intricate (mostly) acoustic (mostly) instrumentals are artfully woven from familiar instruments piano, guitar, cello, and pedal steel, and the less common mellotron, orchestron, claviola, and celeste. Each one seems to glimmer out through Victorian lace curtains yellowed and slightly threadbare from age, through shatters of antique crystal goblets dappled with droplets of deep red, through a flaking, clouded gilt mirror, through deep sea greens and azures. Very cinematic, in fact, the Dynamophone folks beat us to the punch at raising the darkly whimsical filmmakers the Brothers Quay as a point of reference. Very recommended.
Longtime readers of the aQ list and followers of Andee's tUMULt label are no doubt familiar with Pyha, whose Haunted House album still ranks as one of our favorite black metal records ever, made even more noteworthy by the fact it was created by a Korean teenager! It was a personal and intimate study (by a teenager) on loss and death, focusing on Korea's wars, the music bleak and blown out, weirdly atmospheric and hypnotic, any black metalheads out there who have yet to check it out, do yourself a favor. SO what the heck does that have to do with this new full length from Korean punk/grind duo Bamseom Pirates? Well, Mr. Pyha is all grown up, he's been in and out of the military (it's compulsory in Korea), he's engaged to be married, and he's still politically active, but his protests now come in the form of short sharp blasts of grinding punk rock. Granted, the Pyha connection might be a bit of a tenuous connection to convince metalheads to pick this up, and really, unless you're into punk rock and grindcore, odds are you're not gonna dig this. That said, there are plenty of metallic moments, and some of the grinding is wicked fierce, and as metal as anything else out there, but there's definitely a serious sense of humor running through the proceedings, and the more metallic grind numbers are outnumbered by the punk rock jams, so metalheads you have been warned, everyone else, this is pretty fucking ruling. Just bass and drums, the bass super distorted to the point that it basically sounds like a guitar, the vocals are yelped and howled and grunted and squealed, we're reminded of legendary power violence jokers Spazz as well as Japanese grinders Bathtub Shitter, all the lyrics in Korean, the booklet too, so much of the lyrical content, and any of the politics are definitely lost on non-Korean speakers, but if you're after some wild pounding punk and some seriously furious grind, with some twisted weirdness and a little bit of goofiness mixed in, this will definitely hit the spot. And if you're like us and CRAZY obsessed with Pyha to boot, well then even more reason to grab one.
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We often get mysterious packages in the mail. Sometimes a tape, or a handful of 7"s, often surprisingly, with no info whatsoever, no note, no nothing. Which in some ways is cool, nothing to go on but the music itself, and the packaging. But unfortunately, sometimes it takes us a while to listen to everything, which means once in a while, we hear something we dig, and realize we have no way of tracking the band or the label down.
So a while back, we got a little package of 7"s in the mail, and they looked amazing. Transparent vellum sleeves, clear vinyl, the word 'Tickles' printed on the front in a cool font, a weird painting/picture of a stoplight pasted on the front, and a manga style drawing of a diner on the back, with a sad lonely girl sitting by herself underneath a sign for vegetable burgers and beans. Very strange.
It wasn't until a few days ago, months and months after the 7"s showed up at the store, that someone from the band finally contacted us and gave is the lowdown. We never noticed, but printed in tiny letters on the back is the name of the band, The Banana Crew, which is apparently the name of the group, but it's not just a group, it's also a sort of arts collective, and this, "Tickles" is their first musical document. If you're anything like us, a band called Banana Crew with a record called Tickles might not have sounded all that promising, but we were pleasantly surprised to discover, the music of BC was a sort of Gary Numan / Kraftwerk style krautwave machinemusic electro pop, all fuzzy synths, shuffling snares, tinkling melodies and moody dramatic new wave vocals. A definite eighties vibe, one that positions BC amongst many other contemporary acts mining that much maligned decade, taking a sort of Daft Punk thing, stripping it way down, and slowing it down, a sci-fi retro electronic future pop that's hazy, and dreamy, and softly propulsive, definitely with a little of that Carpenter soundtrack feel, but the vocals turn it into the sort of futuristic electro pop that groups like Soft Metals, White Car, Blank Dogs, Gary War, Greatest Hits and Autre Ne Veut and the like have been exploring lately as well...
Sadly, the last ever ish (so we're told) of this long-running avantgarde music n' art magazine... And it remains entertainingly dense with confusion to the last. Obscure isn't obscure until it's been celebrated (and futher obscured) in the pages of Bananafish. This final issue leaves us with info and interviews with Jim Leftwich ("experimental writer, visual poet..."), Burning Star Core ("violin/electronics/voice iconoclast"), Nelson Gastaldi ("Argentinean psych-spatial composer"), Montract ("group of beach-blanket acidheads"), and Joe Colley ("ex-Crawl Unit noise mumbler"). There's also "surreal, interdisiplinary" comics from Mecca Normal guitarist David Lester and of course pages and pages of reviews of all kinds of noisy, fucked up music -- reviews that quite often are more interesting than the music itself, we sometimes suspect. Plus the requisite bonus cd that comes with the magazine, with stuff from all the above mentioned artists, including lots of excerpts from cassettes found by Joe Colley. Ah Bananfish, we'll miss ya.
A Band Of Bees have totally captured those psychedelic pop sounds of the 60's in all their full technicolor glory (think: Kinks, Byrds, Small Faces), but combined them with the ballsier guitar sounds of the 70's, and some old Stax-y soul grooves (think: Temptations, Bar-Kays, Booker T And The MGs) too! The band deftly brings together a broad array of sounds and influences from the past. They recreate them with startling accuracy and present them with a fresh enthusiasm. The results? A super feel good, all-weather album!
Polish outfit with members of the Magic Carpathians, but not nearly as droney or avant-garde as you'd expect from that, or from their name. Instead, this is lighter fare, kind of an indie-rock thing, not as psychedelic or weird as might be assumed.
Unlike their last album last year Everything All The Time, Band Of Horses' sophomore full length aligns itself moreso with the buoyancy of Built To Spill, Modest Mouse, and My Morning Jacket than the slow creep of Sparklehorse and Songs:Ohia. They craft the beloved modern yelp-pop that's characterized by warm, rounded jangly pop/rock instrumentation and boyish male vocals that are cling expressively to the upper register. Wistful, autumnal tunes perfect for this time of year!
Fans of My Morning Jacket, Sparklehorse, Songs Ohia, and Iron And Wine, you just might have another band jockeying for your affection! Mat Brooke and Ben Bridwell, two ex-members of Seattle pop band Carissa's Weird, have regrouped in a new combo that doesn't stray too far from their former band's slow, lush sound, but takes it into more of a rural setting. Some of us (staffers and customers alike) thought they were a deadringer for My Morning Jacket -- from Bridwell's high mournful vocal delivery to the duo's balance of haunting Southern gothic ballads and rockier numbers. For a full box of tissues example of the former, check out the final song "St. Augustine". But whereas MMJ blanket their shadowy melancholic recordings in cavernous cathedral reverb, Band Of Horses apply a lighter coat -- their sun-drenched guitars countering the heavy-heartedness of the vocals. Really really really good!
We've given favorable reviews to these guys in the past, comparing them to aQ faves like Iron & Wine, Sparklehorse, Songs Ohia, My Morning Jacket, but it wasn't until this record, that the doubters and dissenters around here were truly convinced. For some reason, Band Of Horses were a band we just didn't want to like. They're the sort of band that gets featured on NPR, and played in Starbucks and ends up as background music on House or C.S.I. or as the soundtrack to yuppie kiddie carpools, but goddamn it, this record rules. Like the above mentioned bands, they weave gorgeous lush twang flecked folk pop, that manages to be intimate and moving, catchy and oh so lush, to the above mentioned bands we might also add all the various Joe Pernice projects: Scud Mountain Boys, Big Tobacco, Pernice Brothers, Chappaquiddick Skyline, the same sort of delicate earnest vox, and warm languid post country drift.
Band Of Horses go even further, incorporating what sounds like strings, making their folk country pop hybrid even more lush and expansive, and hell the songs are just so pretty, and hooky, whether the band are unfurling delicate tapestries of hushed melody, or rocking out county punk Uncle Tupelo style, it's hard to argue with how good this stuff is. So to the haters, we were haters once too, and we're happy to have finally switched sides, cuz this record is pretty dang great....
Dust, Captain Beyond, Toad, Pentagram, Highway Robbery, T2, Buffalo, Budgie, Blue Cheer, Lucifer's Friend...if these names mean anything to you, you're probably one of our customers who dig that heavy '70s acid rock proto-metal stuff. Whenever we find a reissue of another lost gem from the era we try to share it with you. So, here, at last, are discs by the legendary Bang, a trio from Florida (by way of Philly) circa '71-'73 who managed to crank out some Sabbath-like riffing to go with the very Ozzy-like vocals of lead singer and bassist Frank Ferrara!
Bang never got big -- although they did share stages with everyone from Alice Cooper to the Allman Brothers to Chuck Berry to Funkadelic to Black Sabbath themselves, apparently had a #1 hit in Hong Kong and at one point owned their own private plane! They released three albums in their career (for a US major label in fact) plus they recorded some singles and made an entire unreleased album as well. Their entire output has now been reissued on two cds, the first of which (this one) contains their self-titled debut, recorded in February of '72, as well as their follow-up sophomore album recorded that same year in November (groups back then didn't dilly dally with putting out one album every couple of years like today's bands).
As we said, Bang, especially on their first album, bore a remarkable resemblance to the Sabs, which was really unusual for their era, when bands were more likely to copy Zeppelin or Purple or just be stuck in the '60s. Kinda lo-fi, but quite heavy, "Bang" delievers doomy hard rock, with a kinda Comus-y Pagan slant, that also brings to mind the most powerful early King Crimson. Like most heavy bands of the period, Bang weren't cognizant of the "metal" concept, and probably saw themselves as a pop rock group -- a dark and pyschedelic pop rock group to be sure -- and so sometimes the hard riffing lets up to allow for some happier or more gentle fare, which is not always a bad thing anyway (this a phenomenon we discussed in our review of the Dust albums not long ago).
Bang's 2nd album was oddly presented as two distinct side-long mini-albums, each with its own 'front' cover. Side one (the heavier) being "Mother" with side two dubbed "Bow To The King". Both sides together were not as Sabbathy as the debut perhaps, but still excellent '70s proto-metal indeed.
Recorded in Hollywood, California in 1973, "Bang Music" was quite a bit more of your standard '70s rock/pop fare, not nearly as heavy as their earlier efforts. But it's nicely melodic and has a few rockin' tracks on it, like opener "Windfair".
Then we step back chronologically a couple of years for the conceptual "Death Of A Country", which was Bang's never-released first album, recorded in 1971 prior to their self-titled debut that came out the next year. With visions of societal corruption and ecological disaster, this album's doom-filled lyrics are certainly Sabbathian, although the music really doesn't get as apocalyptically heavy as what they came up with on "Bang". But still, a decent slab of downer psych-rock, more '60s hippie than '70s metal.
True heavy music connoisseurs really need this disc, though, for the two of the three "lost singles" included: the tracks "Slow Down" and "Feels Nice". They're the highlights here for sure. "Slow Down" woulda fit in well on their debut, while "Feels Nice" has more of Led Zep vibe.
Bang's slogan was always "Music Shot From Guns". Of the two cds reissues, it's the first ("Bang / Mother - Bow To The King") that's definitely using the higher caliber ordnance. But this one also gets off some good shots.
Note, unlike cd versions you might have seen before, these aren't bootlegs -- these reissues were done by the band themselves through their website. Initally they reissued 'em as cd-rs, but now they've done real cds, professionally printed. The cd booklets have the lyrics and credits, but we'd have liked some more art, photos, notes, etc. And as 2-on-1 releases, they've scrunched the cover art for two albums into each booklet's front panel, along with using some not-so-'70s Macintosh computer fonts. So, visually these could have been better, but oh well -- it's the music that matters. And much of Bang's music should definitely stoke those into early metal a la Black Sabbath and the aforementioned obscure greats.
All right! We're happy to report that Rise Above Relics is back in business, with an impressive new batch of proto-metal reissues including albums by Steel Mill and Necromandus... gotta get 'em all reviewed, but we're gonna start with a Bang. A box set of Bang, in fact. We've long stocked the self-released cd reissues of this early '70s American answer to Black Sabbath, but THIS is the definitive Bang reish for sure. Physically much nicer than those previous reissues, this handsome yellow box contains all 4 of Bang's full-lengths on 4 individual cds in mini-lp style gatefold sleeves, plus bonus material, and a thick (40 page) booklet stuffed with detailed liner notes and photos... and there's a Bang sticker too!
Essential for Bang fans, and that means all lovers of '70s heavy psych rock action. Here's a revamp of what we had to say about Bang before, when we reviewed each album:
Dust, Captain Beyond, Jerusalem, Toad, Pentagram, Highway Robbery, T2, Buffalo, Budgie, Blue Cheer, Lucifer's Friend...if these names mean anything to you, you're probably one of our customers who dig that heavy '70s acid rock proto-metal stuff. Whenever we find a reissue of another lost gem from the era we try to share it with you. So, here, at last... the legendary Bang, a trio from Florida (by way of Philly) circa '71-'73 who managed to crank out some Sabbath-like riffing to go with the very Ozzy-like vocals of lead singer and bassist Frank Ferrara!
Bang never got big - although they did share stages with everyone from Alice Cooper to the Allman Brothers to Chuck Berry to Funkadelic to Black Sabbath themselves, apparently had a #1 hit in Hong Kong and at one point owned their own private plane! They released three albums in their career (for a US major label in fact) plus they recorded some singles and made an entire unreleased album as well.
As we said, Bang, especially on their first self-titled album, recorded in February of '72, bore a remarkable resemblance to the Sabs, which was really unusual for their era, when heavy bands were more likely to copy Zeppelin or Purple or just be stuck in the '60s. Kinda lo-fi, but quite heavy, it delivers doomy hard rock, with a kinda Comus-y Pagan slant, that also brings to mind the most powerful early King Crimson. Like most heavy bands of the period, Bang weren't cognizant of the "metal" concept, and probably saw themselves as a pop rock group - a dark and psychedelic pop rock group to be sure - and so sometimes the hard riffing lets up to allow for some happier or more gentle fare, which is not always a bad thing anyway (this a phenomenon we discussed in our review of the Dust albums once upon a time).
Bang's second album, which followed later in '72 (groups back then didn't dilly dally with putting out one album every couple of years like today's bands) was oddly presented as two distinct side-long mini-albums, each with its own 'front' cover. Side one (the heavier) being "Mother" with side two dubbed "Bow To The King". Both sides together were not as Sabbathy as the debut perhaps, but still excellent '70s proto-metal indeed.
They then went to Hollywood in '73 to cut Bang Music, their third album. It's quite a bit more of your standard '70s rock/pop fare, not nearly as heavy as their earlier efforts. But it's nicely melodic and has a few rockin' tracks on it, like opener "Windfair".
Then we step back chronologically a couple of years for the conceptual Death Of A Country, which was Bang's never-released first album, recorded in 1971 prior to their self-titled debut. With visions of societal corruption and ecological disaster, this album's doom-filled lyrics are certainly Sabbathian, although the music really doesn't get as apocalyptically heavy as what they came up with on Bang. But still, a decent slab of downer psych-rock, more '60s hippie than '70s metal.
True heavy music connoisseurs really need this 4th disc, though, for the two of the three "lost singles" included: the tracks "Slow Down" and "Feels Nice". They're the highlights here for sure. "Slow Down" woulda fit in well on their debut, while "Feels Nice" has more of Led Zep vibe. As an additional bonus, Rise Above have included a half-hour radio interview.
Bang's slogan was always "Music Shot From Guns". Of their albums, it's the first two, Bang and Mother - Bow To The King, that definitely use the higher caliber ordnance. But the other two discs here also get off some good shots. And the whole package is a huge improvement over the band's previous official reissues that we stocked, not to mention the bootleg editions that have also circulated. More room for the art, better design, and the other goodies in the box.
One of the best unsung heavy rock acts ever, finally gets the box set they deserve. BANG!
Ahhh. The Bangs are back with this cd ep of high energy, guitar riffin, punk rockin', high pitched yipping, sweet and sweaty Sleater Kinney-ish RAWK! The Bangs definitely sound like Olympia girl rock, big time. And Sleater Kinney comparisons are unavoidable; they also remind us of the Go-Go's but with a '70s rock edge. Cool stuff.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
This band can't help but draw numerous comparisons to other Kill Rock Stars and K Records feisty girl-fronted bands such as Bikini Kill or Bratmobile. Indeed they do sound like a younger more bubblegum-loaded incarnation of said bands, and indeed one Bangs member (Maggie Vail) is the younger sister of Bikini Kill's Toby. But y'know what? I think I've got a better point of comparison. The fifth track "Undo Everything" brings to mind one of the slower numbers on The Go-Go's self-titled album. Actually quite a lot of this record is sweetly reminiscent of Belinda, Jane and co. and we like it!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Arguably the best music writer of all time, Bangs breaks out with powerful, loose-cannon garage rock that's kinda the counterpart to his prose. Recorded in Austin, Texas, in 1980, shortly before he died. Very rare German import.
For his latest full length, Banhart has taken a marked departure from the mystical woodland art-folk kingdom he conjured and inhabited on his first three albums. This is evident even before you hear a single note -- he opted for a Sgt. Pepper style collaged crowd photograph on the front cover rather than another of his illustrations. He's tempered his vocal delivery to a more approachable range -- this might disappoint some of his fans for whom his unmistakable 'old' voice was the thing they loved most about his music, on the other hand though it certainly has the potential to appeal to a much broader audience -- but he's ventured out stylistically in a number of directions and incorporated various different instrument combinations into the surprisingly lush arrangements with wonderful results. Take for example the second song "Santa Maria Da Feira" and the sixth "Quedateluna" which both brought to mind glimmers of a long lost Gilberto Gil album, the almost soft rock production of the third song "Heard Somebody Say", not to mention the fourth song "Long Haired Child" which possesses a primal electric guitar psychedelic bluesiness that recalls Arthur Brown's demonic '60s stomp "Fire" (albeit much less unhinged). Midway through the album, some songs crop up that are more akin to the Banhart of old such as the quirkily playful ninth tune "Some People Ride The Wave". 22 songs! Wow! So great!
Another lil' shortie from Mr. Banhart! Please note the vinyl and cd versions' track listings are not the same! The cd features the title song (taken from Devendra's most recent full length Cripple Crow) as well as two exclusive tracks not on the 7" ("Lickety Split" and "Chicken"). The 7" record features the title song plus one exclusive track not on the cdep ("La Pastorcita Perdida").
Devendra tops off your tall glass of Cripple Crow with this 3-song ep. Wouldn't think of him as a singles kind of artist, but that's what this appears to be. Much like Sub Pop, XL Recordings have taken to releasing low-priced cd-singles shortly after the release of an artist's album. The title track also appears as the eighth song on the recently released full length. If you yourself are new to Mr. Banhart (or you want to turn a friend onto his music) this might do the trick, but keep in mind that this neo-folk troubadour's most recent more fully fleshed out and often downright rollicking music isn't really indicative of his musical output as a whole. Even with such a relatively short recording career (only 3-4 years?), his earlier (more barebones and obtuse) releases way back in 2002 are quite radically different from where he's at these days.
From the promise of a Banhartian Spring we find a Banhartian Autumn with a companion piece to Rejoicing In The Hands, Nino Rojo. This album, equally as stunning, features 16 songs assembled from 57 tracks recorded with Banhart mentor Michael Gira in Atlanta (see our review of Rejoicing for more info on the recording and production). Truly some of his most captivating and achingly beautiful songs to date with more elaborate finger-picked guitarwork and fleshed out backing vocals on songs such as the glistening "Owl Eyes" and the album closer "Electric Heart". One of our most favorite tracks, "At The Hop", is co-written by frequent Banhart collaborator Andy Cabic (Vetiver, Tussle). The enhancement of this enhanced-cd features a video for this song. Like its companion, Nino Rojo offers a Devendra Banhart with more polish, more freedom of movement and a little looser from the grip of self-awareness -- making for a more cohesive but no less eccentric and magical album.
Devendra Banhart -- who appears to be living his life as an indie-rock gipsy touring with whomever and squatting wherever, including a stint wowing locals here in SF -- crafts his neo-folk songs with the primitive instrumentation of voice and acoustic guitar, spanning a vast spectrum of fragmented emotions through a manic-depressive persona that can be as beautifully charming as it can be terrifyingly devastating. Michael Gira, who released this album through his Young God label, accurately described Banhart's voice with its skewed vibrato and unnerving warble as somewhere in between the magical voices of Marc Bolan, Karen Dalton, Syd Barrett, Tiny Tim, Daniel Johnston, and Nick Drake; and fortunately, Banhart uses that voice to tell a wholly unique set of stories that hold a succinct poetry. Hastily stitched from bizarre stream of consciousness associations and absurdist conditional clauses, Banhart's lyrics expand the realm of possibility into psychosexual surrealism. On occasion, Banhart's tales are anthropomorphic love songs, wistfully dreaming of archaic steam ships and the state of Michigan (yes, he pines for Michigan) with all of sexual cravings and romantic nuances of a young boy first pierced by Cupid's arrow; yet on other occasion, Banhart gnashes his teeth with such existential confusion that the targets of his epithets are blurred by his bilious rage. Within Banhart's language, reality has been realized as a swollen mass of malformed emotions compounded by the urgency that resonates within his voice.
Upon listening to this album, I've had the recurring, sinking feeling either that Banhart is destined to star in an upcoming Harmony Korine film or that he will be dead in a few years as victim of an unspecified gruesome tragedy. As I've tried and failed to assign such distinctly odd critical-doomspeak within various arguments and generalized thesis about the perception of the separation between art and life, I mention it because Banhart -- unlike any artist whom I've come across -- has been able to provoke such controversial thoughts. Far from me to wish Banhart or anybody ill-will, but true manifestations of horror defy logic and are very rare indeed. And this, gentle reader, is the real deal.
If you recall, Andee began his review of Woven Hand's album with the bold statement: "I hate to gush, but gush I must, this is my record of the year. Done deal." As for me (Jim, along with Marcy and Windy), the debut from Devendra Banhart needs to be given serious consideration as a contender for record of the year 2002.
Since the release of his evocative debut album Oh Me Oh My..., Devendra Banhart has deservedly catapulted to the status of an indie-rock icon. The critical acclaim for Banhart's work is based on the merits of his spectacular songwriting and uncanny ability to channel an incredible spectrum of emotional resonance. However, much of that success is also due to the hard work and dedication of Young God's bossman Michael Gira. The former Swan and current Angel Of Light has taken Banhart under his wing as his apprentice and has boldly asserted (and nurtured) Banhart's brilliance, majesty, and genius. His hard work has certainly paid off as almost every media outlet has sung Banhart's praises; but even so it was quite bizarre to hear Banhart's wavering croon on NPR's Morning Edition many moons ago.
Rejoicing In The Hands is Banhart's second proper album, following the short Black Babies UK EP which delved further into his piles of early 4-track recordings. For this new album, Gira took Banhart into a studio (which was located in an appropriately antique Southern home on the Georgia / Alabama border) and provided him with plenty of resources to flesh out his songs. In many ways, Rejoicing In The Hands follows the same strategy that Sub Pop employed for Iron & Wine's second album Our Endless Numbered Days: take one fantastic songwriter who made a great album of 4-track recordings, put him in the studio with some sympathetic musicians, and watch the magic happen. Thus, Rejoicing In The Hands has considerably more polish than its predecessor; and perhaps not surprisingly, the songs themselves are less dangerous, rabid, and self-consumed. Yet, the taming of Mr. Banhart is a relative process, as his work still invokes a mysticism of the unconscious through his complex metanyms and obtuse wordplay. His voice -- an eccentric hybrid of Marc Bolan, Karen Dalton, and Vashti Bunyan (who sings a duet alongside Banhart on this record!) -- continues to waver through stream of consciousness lyrics about his teeth, his beard, geographic love affairs, insects, Elvis, and other more likely subject matters like sex and death. Musically, these are delicate folk arrangements centered around his elliptical finger picking which is occasionally accompanied by some of Gira's fellow musicians from Angels of Light. All in all, Rejoicing In The Hands is a rousing success that will surely make Banhart the folk medium for his generation. Highly recommended.
Hola dear Devendra-adoring vinyl lovers! You no longer have to feel left out in the cold while others around you enjoy Mr. Banhart's music on cd because Young God has released his two most recent albums together (as they were meant to be!) as a double record set in a gatefold sleeve. If you're memory need refreshing, here's what we said about Rejoicing In The Hands album a little under a year ago:
Since the release of his evocative debut album Oh Me Oh My..., Devendra Banhart has deservedly catapulted to the status of an indie-rock icon. The critical acclaim for Banhart's work is based on the merits of his spectacular songwriting and uncanny ability to channel an incredible spectrum of emotional resonance. However, much of that success is also due to the hard work and dedication of Young God's bossman Michael Gira. The former Swan and current Angel Of Light has taken Banhart under his wing as his apprentice and has boldly asserted (and nurtured) Banhart's brilliance, majesty, and genius. His hard work has certainly paid off as almost every media outlet has sung Banhart's praises; but even so it was quite bizarre to hear Banhart's wavering croon on NPR's Morning Edition many moons ago.
Rejoicing In The Hands is Banhart's second proper album, following the short Black Babies UK EP which delved further into his piles of early 4-track recordings. For this new album, Gira took Banhart into a studio (which was located in an appropriately antique Southern home on the Georgia / Alabama border) and provided him with plenty of resources to flesh out his songs. In many ways, Rejoicing In The Hands follows the same strategy that Sub Pop employed for Iron & Wine's second album Our Endless Numbered Days: take one fantastic songwriter who made a great album of 4-track recordings, put him in the studio with some sympathetic musicians, and watch the magic happen. Thus, Rejoicing In The Hands has considerably more polish than its predecessor; and perhaps not surprisingly, the songs themselves are less dangerous, rabid, and self-consumed. Yet, the taming of Mr. Banhart is a relative process, as his work still invokes a mysticism of the unconscious through his complex metanyms and obtuse wordplay. His voice -- an eccentric hybrid of Marc Bolan, Karen Dalton, and Vashti Bunyan (who sings a duet alongside Banhart on this record!) -- continues to waver through stream of consciousness lyrics about his teeth, his beard, geographic love affairs, insects, Elvis, and other more likely subject matters like sex and death. Musically, these are delicate folk arrangements centered around his elliptical finger picking which is occasionally accompanied by some of Gira's fellow musicians from Angels of Light. All in all, Rejoicing In The Hands is a rousing success that will surely make Banhart the folk medium for his generation. Highly recommended.
And this is what we had to say about the cd version of Nino Rojo in September '04:
From the promise of a Banhartian Spring we find a Banhartian Autumn with a companion piece to Rejoicing In The Hands, Nino Rojo. This album, equally as stunning, features 16 songs assembled from 57 tracks recorded with Banhart mentor Michael Gira in Atlanta (see our review of Rejoicing for more info on the recording and production). Truly some of his most captivating and achingly beautiful songs to date with more elaborate finger-picked guitarwork and fleshed out backing vocals on songs such as the glistening "Owl Eyes" and the album closer "Electric Heart". One of our most favorite tracks, "At The Hop", is co-written by frequent Banhart collaborator Andy Cabic (Vetiver, Tussle). The enhancement of this enhanced-cd features a video for this song. Like its companion, Nino Rojo offers a Devendra Banhart with more polish, more freedom of movement and a little looser from the grip of self-awareness -- making for a more cohesive but no less eccentric and magical album.
These seem to be going fast, not sure how limited it is...
Well, the folk may be less present, but the freak is still going strong as ever. And why shouldn't he be when he's the charmed breather of life into this strange Topanga Canyon cocktail party. No, Neil Young couldn't make it, neither could Emmylou Harris, Eric Clapton, Joni Mitchell, or any of the usual suspects you might expect from ground zero of the west coast singer-songwriter renaissance in the seventies. Instead Devendra and cohorts with their ever-changing band names (Hairy Fairy, Navajo Gospel, White Rainbow Moccassin Woman, and lately The Spiritual Boner) have imported some remarkably far-flung musical touch-stones. From Vegas Elvis to Caetano Veloso to J.J. Cale. Throw in a little Byrds with a pinch of Led Zeppelin, add some Lover's Rock, some Post-Tropicalia, a bit of gender-bending, a taste of gospel and even a hint of Al Jolson mixed with Allan Sherman. It's a pretty daring concoction that, with a couple of notable exceptions (The treacly gospel choir of "Saved" and the cringe-inducing doo-wop of "Shabop Shalom"), works rather brilliantly. It's definitely a stretching-out record with Devendra bravely exploring more theatrical musical niches that would terrify most artists, and while at moments it can border on cheese, for the most part it's got some of the best songwriting, band performances and production that he's committed to wax (or plastic) so far. Deluxe edition features full color booklet of Devendra's lyrics, drawings and paintings. Recommended!
We've been told that amidst the piles of four-track recordings that Devendra Banhart has made, there are over 100 songs yet to be released. All of the tracks from the critically acclaimed debut album "Oh Me Oh My..." (even NPR has been raving about it!) came from that wealth of material. Thus, it's somewhat disappointing that the "The Black Babies (UK)" ep -- so-called 'cause it was originally intended just for release in England -- only features 6 previously unheard offerings of his wonderfully bizarre folk songs and 2 tracks from the aforementioned "Oh Me Oh My..." album. Nonetheless, "The Black Babies" is a very welcome addition. Devendra's voice continues to belie his gender with a straining vibrato that sounds more like a crazed Billie Holiday, or more accurately like the '60s Village folk maven Karen Dalton. Overdubbing just his voice and his elliptical fingerpicking of an acoustic guitar through borrowed four-tracks, Devendra's songs work through their ability to communicate the extremes of emotion with so little to work with. It also doesn't hurt his cause that all of his material is swathed in the audio cobwebs of tape hiss, residual ambience, and purposefully unkempt production. In light of such lo-fi indie-rock offerings as The Mountain Goats and Sebadoh, none of this is new; although Devendra's subject matter seems far more magical and outlandish than the rumpled tragicomedies of those acts. While the highlights of "Oh Me Oh My..." were the bloodcurdling songs of pain and abjection, "The Black Babies (UK)" features more of his sort-of love songs, albeit, quite atypical love songs, in which Devendra pines for places like Maine, South Carolina, or Spain. This is some of the finest in magic realism.
MPEG Download: "Surgery I Stole" [/audio/devendrasurgeryistole.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Surgery I Stole" [/audio/devendrasurgeryistole.m3u]
By this point people seem to have really strong feelings one way or another about Devendra Banhart, ourselves included. We've been big fans of him from his first ultra personal other worldly creations and then as he transitioned his approach into a more fleshed out sound, and we really do appreciate the twists and turns his music has taken over the years and his willingness to play with different sounds and approaches, even when not entirely successful. Perhaps especially then!
Because the thing about Banhart's music is that for every slight slip up or overly feel-good goofy song that might make it on a record (and there are a couple here) there are so many intense and heartfelt, emotional and flat out incredible songs that help balance his uniquely skewed musical vision.
Despite all the hype and hoopla that's surrounded Banhart over the years, the truth is he might just be one of the best songwriters of the last decade. What Will We Be? fits very nicely alongside his recent outings Cripple Crow and Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Mountain, with some all out rocking and even glam moments ("16th Street & Valencia Roxy Music", "Rats") as well as a handful of tropical excursions, but it's the more slow and dreamy songs that really remind us why we love this guy so much. What Will We Be? is a record that requires multiple listens, as there are golden tracks throughout, which only really seep through after multiple plays. The cd comes with a beautiful booklet with the lyrics to each songs along with Banhart's wonderful drawings.
Only available on vinyl! This split LP with Jana Hunter features Devendra Banhart's first recordings without the spiritual guidance of Michael Gira since those very first home-recordings which comprised the Oh Me Oh My... album and the Black Babies UK ep, but Banhart's time with Gira certainly left an indelible mark on the former. Therefore it may or may not be surprising to find that unlike many of his earlier recordings on which Banhart struck a chord as a solitary untethered voice, his more recent material has embraced group choruses. In fact the final song on his side of this record seems to possess a unhinged giddiness along the lines of the Beach Boys' loopy sing-a-long rendition of the "Vegetables" tune on Smiley Smile. Banhart's no longer such a lone wolf, finding many kindred spirits in his travels -- such as Ms Jana Hunter with whom he shares this record. And perhaps it can be said that this sense of gathering is parallelled by the ever-increasing popularization of the avant-folk genre as a whole. Hunter and Banhart's music make for a great pairing of heart-baring, barebones compositions. At time her off-kilter voice is strikingly similar to his, creating an almost seamless transition from 'Side J.H." to "Side D.B.". Five songs apiece, and sure to please.
The funny thing about Banjo Or Freakout, is you'll find neither on their records. Okay, well maybe a -little- freakout. But mostly, BoFO traffic in some seriously buzzy, warm and warbly fuzz drenched indie folk noise pop, acoustic guitars, vocal harmonies, some almost programmed sounding drums, total power pop hooks, think Neutral Milk Hotel, the Comas, Apples In Stereo, but filtered through the new breed of pop deconstructionists like Ducktails, Thee Oh Sees and the like.
The A side is all jangle and buzz and croon and will totally hit the spot and fill that Neutral Milk Hotel shaped hole in your heart, the B side though is totally blown out, absolute woozy shoegazy bliss, everything looped and hypnotic and buried under a haze of guitars and buzzy effects. And then there's the trippy rhythmic closer, equal parts Avarus style tribal clatter and drum circle kraut jam and Animal Collective outsider pop bliss. This record rules. Need to hear more bad!!
We weren't the only ones to choose to freakout (hee hee) when we first heard this band's prior vinyl only release. We sold a ton of those and it seemed lots of you also became bigtime fans of BoF's ability to bring new life to a '90s indie rock sensibility. BoF combine an atmospheric approach to recording with songs that showcase different sides to their aesthetic, from moody bittersweet pop nuggets, to daydream anthems, to classic indie rock slacker vibrations. We dig how they remind us of some of the '90s more unsung indie rock greats like 764-Hero and Red Stars Theory, as well as tapping into the warmth and immediacy of modern day bands like Grizzly Bear and The Dodos. If you're feeling burnt out after so many lo-fi, warbled garage pop records, this lush and full sounding indie pop will be seriously refreshing and will no doubt be just what you were hankering for...
An earnest and bespectacled introvert may be what you have in mind when it comes to the visage of a new age musician. Maybe a bunch of crystals casting prismatic beams of light simultaneously from candles and streams of sunlight. Maybe a billowy sarong as garb with a plethora of beads around the neck. According to the liner notes for the acclaimed I Am The Center compilation of New Age private pressings and rare recordings from the '70s and '80s, Mark Banning came across looking more like a "broke down Hells Angel." The context of busted knuckles and oil-stained leather is a wonderful counterpoint to enshroud a pristine sparkle of quiet New Age ambience for guitar, zither, and soft electronics. Tracy, California is the town where Banning called home at the time; and that's one of the neighboring communities to the fictional city of Charming from the TV motorcycle drama Sons Of Anarchy. In 1984, Banning recorded and released Journey To The Light as a private pressing, and he did have an excerpted track from a different recording included on the aforementioned I Am The Center compilation. Journey To The Light wafts along Banning's guitar playing which alternates between chorus-laden, E-Bow guitar explorations that recall a lighter version of the Manuel Gottsching ethos and a painterly lyricism of brightly ringing chords similar to Maurice Deebank. The lush electronics that surround the guitars are accompanied by a celebratory strum across the zither. This is the real deal when it comes to the New Age, regardless of the rough context in which it was recorded. Lovely, contemplative, inner-mind music reissued by the impeccable imprint Students Of Decay.
Here's an album of (sometimes radical) interpretations of traditional British and American folk songs, all done by Bob Bannister of Tono Bungay. Melancholy stuff beloved by fans of Shirley Collins and the like ("The Murder Of Maria Marten", "George Collins",
