We made Reuber's Ring a Record Of The Week a little while back, the latest solo record from Timo Reuber, who is one half of the electronic duo Klangwart. Ring was fantastic, super varied, slipping from kosmische dronemusic to pulsing psychedelic techno to spacey new wave. We loved it so much, that many of us got a little obsessed, and decided to dig deeper and check out some of Reuber's other releases. Thus we have this, Reuber's second solo release, from 2001, the title translating to "Stay Cool", the bulk of which is made up of the two part title track, each part about 22 minutes. The first part, definitely in keeping with the album title, is an extended electronic dronescape, shimmery and crystalline, lush yet delicate, warm tones drifting from speaker to speaker, bathed in a hazy glow, meditative and dreamlike, new agey and a little bit krautrocky, soft flurries of notes dissipate into gauzy streaks, bits of electronic glitch and spacey effects surface here and there, like the score for some educational film about interplanetary travel. The sounds eventually coalesce into an almost rhythm, pulsing warmly, wreathed in strange atonal melodies, before quickly blissing out again, and spreading out into a barely there cloud of glistening, tinkling blur.
The second part of the title track is pretty much the opposite, a pulsing metallic buzz like rhythm, skeletal and mechanical, skitters and shuffles, the sounds growing more and more thick and buzzy, distorted and intense, eventually becoming almost Merzbowian, thick and corrosive, yet still somehow warm and melodic, a wildly buzzing chunk of hypnotic spaced out rhythm, the timbre constantly shifting too, from dense and layered, to brittle and tinny, finally to fully blown out and in-the-red. All the while managing to sound kosmische and psychedelic, under that coating of crunch and thrum and buzz and glitch.
Finally, the record finishes off with another bit of 'cool'ness, a relatively brief (7+ minutes), of hazy high end shimmer, a warm whirling drift of subtle overtones, slow shifting layers, of blurred melodies and glowing near static thrum, a perfect bit of tranquil mesmer to finish with.
Fantastic stuff, anyone who dug Ring will like this too, and anyone into kosmische drift, and spacey new age kraut drone, who is not averse to a little bit of crunch and buzz, this will definitely hit the spot.
Somehow this is nothing like what we expected, not sure what we actually expected but this definitely was not at all it. Rev has spent most of his musical life in the seminal group Suicide, creating the iconic musical backdrops for his partner Alan Vega, he's also released tons of solo records over the years, from pop to new wave, we've heard a handful of them, but none of them prepared us for this.
Stigmata is basically soundtrack music, all strings and synths and Rev's dreamy almost Antony like vocals, most of the tracks are short, and establish a musical theme, and then work around it, creating tension, establishing the mood, pizzicato string plucks, soaring stringed melodies, some ominous and haunting, others playful, and still others majestic and epic, all moody and dramatic, while Rev croons and coos, not singing so much as offering up almost falsetto sounding 'whooo's, it sounds strange, but in fact, it's pretty compelling, and moving, and intense. The music sounds classical, or operatic, while the vocals are weirdly distorted and way up in the mix, mostly wordless, as far as we can tell, almost like karaoke opera, which is a lot cooler than it sounds, check out the sound samples, not sure what it is, but we just can't seem to stop listening to this. Be cool to see what Rev could do with an actual score, seems like it might be pretty interesting...
Martin Rev without Alan Vega (the artist's other half in the mid-'70s minimal electronic punk duo, Suicide) seems like Oates without Hall, maybe even Donny sans Marie. But members of duos often make solo "me" time to try stuff they might not otherwise with their sonic partners, and synthesist Rev has been releasing solo records for most of his tenure with/since Suicide. In fact, we were really impressed with his 2009 Stigmata album. While Vega typically donned a rockabilly hat for most of his solo releases, Rev has tried on more than a few musical caps. This new vinyl reissue of his first solo venture from 1980 is one of his more minimalist efforts - think early Human League experiments like "Being Boiled".
"Baby Oh Baby" is the only one of the lp's six tracks that isn't an instrumental - and even there, the lyrics don't extend beyond what you see right there in the song title. The melody on the opening track, "Mari", carries an optimism you wouldn't associate with the dark and eerie downtown duo, and demonstrates Rev's exploration of other moods. It's so upbeat, you might expect Stephin Merritt's low croon to swoop in any second. The rest of the short album is filled with the synth washes and oscillations Rev basically patented as the vocabulary of the synth wave to come. Any fan in search of synth pop's origins will want to include this classic piece of cold electronic minimalism in their collection.
Ratto Ja Lehtisalo are a weird band. Made up of half of aQ faves Circle, their sound is less krautrock, and more like some weird hybrid of eighties new wave faves, Oingo Boingo, The Fixx, Sparks, Talking Heads, but then Circle are pretty weird themselves, flitting from murky propulsive hypnorock, to bombastic metal to atmospheric drone to eighties style New Wave Of British Heavy Metal and back again. And the side projects, too many to name here, but needless to say, they are all pretty far out.
This here is the latest from Ratto Ja Lehtisalo, and find the band, doing what they do best, confounding and confusing, and even more confounding and confusing is that they are teamed up with the mighty late great doomlords Reverend Bizarre!! Sure they're both from Finland, and yeah, RB's Albert Witchfinder got recent aQ Record Of The Week recipients Quest For Blood signed to Jussi from Circle's Ektro label, but sonically, the couldn't be more different, and yet, weirdly enough, they sound kind of cool back to back.
Anyway, Ratto Ja Lehtisalo start things off with some demented court jester music, sounding very twisted and Renn Faire, before slipping into some moody almost Circle-ish drama, a weird almost-krautrock, but way lighter and jazzier, with chanted vocals that sometimes sound like Queen, sometimes like Circle, the first thing that came to mind was Cluster mixed with Shadowfax, which sounds bad, we know, but is more, just sort of, strange, it's like the music to some insane production of seventies mime troupe Mummenschanz, the band lock into a very Circle-like jam, but soft and fuzzy and jazzy, but just like the Circle mothership, easy enough to get lost in and carried away by.
The flipside comes from Finnish doomsters Reverend Bizarre, who like Tupac, just seem to keep releasing records post mortem, but heck we're not complaining ONE BIT.
A new track composed over an improvised drum track, and it's obvious cuz the drums steal the show. Huge roiling guitars, throbbing doomy bass, and those vocals, deep and resonant and soaring. This is, my friends TRUE DOOM! The track lurches and sways, grooves and swings, sometimes slipping into seriously dense tangles of angular riffing and freaked out drumming, near the end the band launch into a blissed out psychedelic space rock drift that devolves into a bizarre coda all bellowed vocals and wild drums, and yep, a DRUM SOLO!! Before slipping back into the riff and dooming their way to the very end. As always. awesome.
A weird and wonderful, and did we say WEIRD, split of far out Finnish freakiness. Super limited. Pressed on thick swirled opaque white vinyl, with killer cover art by Albert Witchfinder.
Warning. Listening to this crap may cause you to grow up to wear huge garish hawaiian shirts, beat your wife, get stupid tattoos and listen to the Brian Setzer Orchestra. Not recommended.
Not surprisingly, the seemingly ageless and unchanging Reverend Horton Heat gets his brand new album goin' at a galloping psychobilly start. Not quite as blistering nor caustic as he used to be, but no less energetic. Of course, the best way to experience the Rev (and garage rockabilly bands in general) is in the unpredictable raucous live setting. On record, things just come across too clean and controlled. Well, you can sort of get a taste of both worlds with the first pressing of this disc 'cause it comes with a bonus dvd that features live footage and an interview too.
Everyone's favorite rockabilly Reverend returns. Song titles may contain the following words: "boogie," "woogie," "Jack," "Daniels," "whole," "lotta," and "daddy". Rockin'.
Like some dusty old 78, left in the basement for 20 or 30 years, wet and warped, gritty and scratched up, thrown onto the ol' Victrola as is, and allowed to unfurl a warped and warbly, rickety detuned slow motion blues crawl. That's exactly what this latest disc from the Reveries sounds like. Recorded live in Italy in 2004, the Reveries, fronted by Eric Chenaux (who for those of you up on your nineties indie math rock, fronted Toronto's godlike Phleg Camp), magically create this sound from another time. But there's more to it than that, the sound is strangely damaged, alien even, and for good reason. The band employ a technique as bizarre as it is brilliant. Each player, in addition to wielding guitar, harmonica, bass, saw, nose-flute and thumb-reeds (!?), holds a tiny cell phone speaker IN THEIR MOUTHS!!! WHILE THEY PLAY!! OR EVEN SING!! So each of the instruments is sent first to the speaker in the mouth of another player, who much like a Jew's harp, is able to shape and warp the sound with the shape of his mouth. So you're hearing guitar come out of the bass players mouth, the bass coming out of the guitar player's mouth, the flute through another player's mouth, and on and on...
Then there's the singing, which all three members do, and as you might imagine, it's pretty difficult to sing with a speaker in your mouth, and a speaker cable trailing out of your mouth to an amp or a bandmate's mouth. The result is a mumbled and warbly, mush mouthed drawl, fuzzy falsettos, a garbled croon, often sounding like a toothless old Nina Simone, but just as often, like some strange buzzing growl, perfectly complimenting the band's detuned twang flecked scrawl.
It's almost like the Starfuckers playing Django Reinhardt at 16 rpm, with a countrified Derek Bailey on guitar. Cracking, wheezing and skeletal, a demented yet lovely underwater slow motion Western Swing, plenty of downtuned buzz, scraping and shuffling, whispering and whistling, seasick and gorgeously woozy. There are stretches of garbled instrumental chaos here and there, but the majority of the set is spent slithering and shimmering, meandering drunkenly through some strange sonic haze, an old timey radio broadcast, from some strange musical alternate reality, bits of classic blues and jazz muted and smeared pulled apart and tangled up into haunting and perplexing shapes. So gorgeous.
Past record of the week honorees the Reveries return with this super limited live cd-r, and while we're not always huge fans of live recordings, this one is worth it for two reasons, one, we've been dying for more Reveries, we can't get enough of their soporific warbly alien blues, and second, their sound is so strange and woozy, that the various crowd sounds, and the lo-fi recording, only add to their mysterious ambience.
The Reveries, for those of you who missed their AQ record of the week a while back, are a minimal blues trio, who take their somewhat standard instrumentation, guitar, bass, harmonica, musical saw, nose flute, and augment them with what the band calls 'mouth speakers', a tiny cell phone speaker, that each member holds in his mouth while they play, the various instruments being fed to the speaker in one of the other players' mouths, where the sound can then be altered by that player changing the shape of their mouth, or singing along to another instrument. The result is so gorgeous and so completely strange. The sound is off kilter and abstract, woozy and druggy, and totally beautiful. This live set finds the band augmented by a drummer, and various members playing stuff like streetsweeper bristle bass and thumb reeds, which only serves to give these songs a bit more propulsion, not quite as languorous as their last disc, a bit more 'rocking', with some simulated wah guitars (using their mouth speakers we figure) and more of a focus on the vocals, gorgeous mournful melodies, plaintive falsetto harmonies, all draped over the band's blurred bluescapes.
Folks who dig Bonny Prince Billy and Iron And WIne and the like should definitely check this out. It's that sort of modern blues twang, melancholy and melodic, but the Reveries, take that sound and twist it all up into something much stranger, and somehow much more moving.
SUPER LIMITED. Totally over the top packaging, a screen printed cardboard box, each one individually augmented by various glued on pieces of paper and art fragments, inside the box is stuffed with various inserts and found paper debris, flyers, newspapers, pictures cut out from magazines, and all manner of other strange visual detritus.
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Yes!! One of Creation Records best and most mystifying bands finally gets the anthology treatment (Thanks Rev-ola!). Releasing only two records (Off To Heaven from 1987 and Mother Watch Me Burn, from 1989), and two singles (all compiled here), no other band on the Creation roster has been subject to such wild conspiracy theories, extreme denial, rumor and hearsay that have, uh, revolved around this group. And those seeking answers will definitely not find them here.
I (Scott) remember back in my high school days hanging out in the only British Import record store in Orange County (Hyde Park Records in North Irvine) and my friend picking up Off to Heaven with its cryptic liner notes about a late night telephone call and cab-ride to the studio, finding smashed instruments, pink swastikas on the wall and the smell of a bonfire full of clothing, guitars, recording tape and a note "We are invisible...we cannot see you". According to legend, the tapes of the band arrived out of the blue at Creation, with rumors of members (never identified) being seen in various parts of the world in inebriated states of mental recklessness, acid burnout, and inappropriate undress. Needless to say, My friend and I were intrigued. We took the record home and our young minds were blown. Fuzzy, and darkly druggy sixties-sounding psych pop with Phil Spectorish arrangements, jangly guitars, alternating male and female vocals, burning farfisas, backwards tape collages, noisy feedback, and of course tambourines! Yet the songs were performed in a manner that was beyond pastiche or merely a re-tread of the early eighties paisley underground sound. Ever hear of the story of the La's obsessively recording using machines with "sixties dust", to get that distinct vintage sound? Well, RVP sound like they injected that dust deep into their veins, ripped off the drum break from Tomorrow Never Knows, turned their amps all the way up then lit them on fire, walked into the sea, never to emerge. This is the band Brian Jonestown Massacre wish they were.
Of course I wore through my dubbed cassette, and not many I have talked to since had ever heard of them. Rumors have since circulated that Revolving Paint Dream was actually a secret side project of Andrew Innes from Primal Scream, and maybe members of the Pastels as well as Creation Label head, Alan McGee. But even Nicole Garcia who wrote the liner notes for this anthology was unable to get a straight answer on exactly who Revolving Paint Dream were. After affable interviews from all the major players of Creation Records for a French Radio Programme, she received nothing but closed doors and cease and desist letters from mysterious lawyers when she tried to follow up on questions about this enigmatic group. Were McGee and Innes still sticking to their elaborate hoax? Or was Garcia just playing along? Was it a hoax at all? Perhaps some mysteries are better unsolved. At least we have the music. Absolutely Recommended!!!
3rd full length from moody quartet is definitely a step forward, not as immediately catchy as their prior release but upon further listening reveals itself as beautiful, darker, more lush and textural.
Rex's truly wonderful achievement is what the Wilco record should have been, we rather cruelly proclaim. Emotional and epic, slow and dark with a bit of twang. Reminds us sometimes of a slow Meat Puppets, sometimes of a less angsty Palace Brothers. Made the best-of-1996 top picks lists of probably everyone who works here.
We've been getting so much cool new music from China recently, the White+ we recently made our Record Of The Week, as well as the Boyz & Girl record reviewed on the same list, the Pairs cd-r from a while back, not to mention a whole bunch of titles we have in stock that just haven't made it onto the list yet. And here now is another. Sent to us direct from the band in China, who oddly enough has a sort of Icelandic name, and of course the record is called Iceland, and the man behind Reykjavictim is not in fact Chinese, but is Canadian, living in China. Phew. Needless to say, another piece of the puzzle that is the current underground / indie rock scene in Shanghai. Reykjavictim is part electronic flecked new wave rock and part homebrewed experimental pop. Fuzzed out crunchy guitars, pulsing synths, crooned vox, ping ponging melodies, the opening track fuzzy and crunchy before partway through, the drums transform into skittery drum machine, and the song becomes a sort of brooding electro pop. The second track is more of the same but stripped down. But then on "Feng Huang Qin", things get really interesting, a buzzing, Eastern sounding melody, sounding like it's being played on some traditional instrument, over a crackling bed of static and hiss, a swirl of short wave hum and pulsing whir. We wouldn't have minded if the whole record was more of this! The next track takes that Eastern melody, chops it up, and makes it into a stuttering base for some moody new wave mesmer, before the rest of the record unfurls similarly, a sort of home brewed electro wave, all fuzzed out synths, percolating rhythms, the final track a sort of Silver Apples by way of New Order.
Cool stuff for sure. LIMITED TO 200 COPIES!! Packaged in super swank, hand screened and hand written sleeves.
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"The rampaging skew-whiff nature of nearly every song could almost be called a hybrid between the B-52's, Sonic Youth, and the Boredoms, a dance party for death metal screamers and riot grrls alike."
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Reynols is an Argentinian trio that certainly doesn't do much to fit within the user-friendly conventions of stablized musical aesthetics. The focal point in Reynols is Miguel Tomasin, the lead singer / oracle of the group who suffers from Down's Syndrone; yet despite his affliction, Tomasin brings a festive quirkiness and deeply poetic insight to the process of creating music for Reynols. After conjuring a myriad of unusual ideas and mystical pronouncements, Tomasin works with the classically trained engineers Alan Courtis and Roberto Conlazo to realize his transcendental neologisms within a sonic context. Miguel wants to release an album of blank tapes, and Reynols manufactures such an album that despite the absurd source material is a breathtaking piece of dronology... or Miguel wants to compose a symphony for 10,000 chickens, and behold Reynols goes to a farm, records a bunch of chickens and produces an eerie David Lynchian drone.
For "Barbatrulos," Miguel and company have situated themselves as a minimalist heroin rock band, but their sound is far abstracted from the canons of romantic abjection like the Velvet Underground or Spaceman 3. Rather, their fuzzed-out dinscrape dirges are infused with something inexplicably affirmative. I makes no bones about the fact that I don't understand them, but Reynols is one of the few bands that makes me very happy.
For some reason, this 'real' cd Reynols disc is cheaper than the cd-r albums of theirs we listed not long ago. Maybe 'cause it's domestic, not an Argentine import? No matter what, you're always getting a deal, 'cause we're convinced that this Reynols stuff is in fact priceless. Now, there's essentially two types of Reynols records: the 'rock' albums (like "------" and the Reynols/No Reynols double cd) and the conceptual ones (like "Blank Tapes" and the "10,000 Chickens" 7"). This new disc falls into the 'rock' camp, such as it is: damaged, monomaniacal drumming, psychedelic, noisy guitar jamming, and of course Reynols' frontman Miguel Tomasin's otherworldy, shamanistic vocals. Good stuff, in other words.
As the first track of this 50-minute journey begins, you're lost somewhere, in a tunnel or cavern. There's an ambient rumbling sound, and some haunting, echoed cries from Miguel. Then, with track two the distorted rock n' roll drone kicks in, all heavy-like, building in noisy intensity until track 3 interrupts the storm with a calmer, mantric mood, only to be interrupted itself with more fierce feedback guitar at the four and a half minute mark. Other songs feature Hare Krishna -worthy warbling chant, acoustic strum, and rattling hand percussion, as well as more of their primitive psych rock dementia. From simple, vocal-led tracks of trancey emptiness to guitar-based fuzzed-out chaos, the results are only enhanced by the raw, reverby production. Reynols is always strange, and strangely compelling, appealing to us in sort of the same way that much of the music of Keiji Haino does. Listening to Reynols isn't just about enjoying some weird songs, it's about taking a trip into their world and trying to see and hear things the way Miguel and his compatriots do. These are field recordings from inside their minds.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
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With over 50 records under their belt (300 if you count all the ones that "don't exist"), Reynols has more to do with executing a concept than maintaining an aesthetic continuity, with previous wonders of aural conceptualism like "Blank Tapes" (a minimalist hour of blank tapes released on Trente Oiseaux). Fronted by Miguel Tomasin, the lead singer who claims he doesn't sing, and flanked by the sonic arsenal of Alan Courtis and Roberto Conlazo, Reynols presents an art-damaged rock album in "Polos Mosco." The songs from the album are structurally simple but dominated by an excess of vibrato reverb which warbles harmoniously with the garage-rock-meets-Sonic-Youth guitar attack as well as Tomasin's incantations. While AQ's Spanish is downright non-existent, it's probably safe to say that Tomasin is about as comprehensible as Jandek. With all of the oddball mythologies, Reynols may in fact turn out to be the Sun City Girls of the new millenium. Plus Allan and Andee think he sounds like Space Ghost's Brak!!
The weirder-than-thou Argentinian trio Reynols have made a lot of records. That much we can all agree on. Some are conceptual (Blank Tapes, ten thousand chickens, even a 'dematerialized' cd) some are more rock -- messed-up, primitive, psychedelic rock. And this is one of those. It's also two other things: one of the best Reynols we've heard (which, from us, is high praise 'cause we love Reynols) and unfortunately quite limited in availability. We've got six (6) of these, dunno if we'll ever be able to get more, fyi. Fans should consider rushing down here pronto, in other words. From track one, side one (ok, it's a cd so there's only one side, but with Reyols you never know, there could be an imaginary 2nd side) it's a blissful marriage of Miguel's gentle soul singing and a throbbing bed of percussion, heavy amp-drone and stabbing, soothing guitar-skronk. Detours (like the very 2nd track) are made into celebratory, shambling grooves, like Reynols are busking for 'change' in the way I'm writing this review. But most of Sosina Arada Mica could be a Reynolisan religious ceremony, totally spacey and effects-laden. The drone-quotient is high, and so are you.
Nice 180 gram Rhino vinyl reish of this 1978 poppy punky new wavey classic from Glaswegian rockers the Rezillos, which includes such energetic "hits" (in an alternate, much cooler universe, at any rate) as "Flying Saucer Attack", "(My Baby Does) Good Sculptures", "Bad Guy Reaction", "Top Of The Pops", and their hard hitting cover of early Fleetwood Mac garage stomper "Somebody's Gonna Get Their Head Kicked In Tonight". Though the Rezillos were one of Scotland's first Pistols-era punk bands, they liked their '60s stuff, doing some other '60s covers besides the Mac, also suitably punked up. Faye Fife's vocals provide some melodic balance to the more sneering-sounding, tougher male ones. Not that she doesn't sound tuff too. Super good tunes, good times, yeah!!
Don't just take it from us, J. Mascis of Dinosaur Jr. has been quoted as saying that Can't Stand The Rezillos is the best album Sire ever put out. And that's saying a lot, since in just '78 alone Sire released albums by the Ramones, the Talking Heads, the Dead Boys, and the Flamin' Groovies, among many others...
Finally available on cd, Emitt Rhodes' first record after disbanding his '60s baroque-pop group The Merry-Go-Round. Since The Merry-Go Round only recorded one album, Rhodes was contractually obligated to give A&M another record, marking the beginning of a promising solo career plagued by similar obligations and label pressures. While Rhodes voice sounds very much like Paul McCartney, uncanny for a Californian, American Dream's pop-perfection arrangements actually read likes a lost Beatles record on most of the songs, that is if John Lennon decided to sit that one out. His use of session musicians on this record gives this a different feel from the sound he developed later for his absolutely amazing self-titled album on Dunhill a year later, where he built his own studio and recorded all the instruments himself. So American Dream sounds closer to a second Merry-Go-Round record than a proper debut solo record (In fact, the only other available release of American Dream is on a best of The Merry-Go Round compilation). But that shouldn't take away from the fact that this is a great record from an incredible talent who never really got his due. That's a shame because his early records are soooo good!! Much better than Paul McCartney's solo records we daresay. Seek them out!
Finally, after a handful of shoddy reissues, bootleg compilations, and a never ending quest to track down every bit of recorded brilliance from this unsung pop genius, comes this amazing and comprehensive collection from the greatest pop singer song writer you've probably never heard of.
Some folks might be familiar with Rhodes from his time in psych pop combo The Merry-Go-Round, but it's on these 4 solo records, that Rhodes truly blossomed into something of a pop music marvel, playing almost all of the instruments himself, drums, bass, piano, guitar, writing, recording, singing, and creating some of the most timeless pop music you'll ever hear. Often called 'the one man Beatles' (in fact there's a new documentary about Rhodes with that title) due in no small part to his voice, a dead ringer for Paul McCartney's, as well as his songwriting, which definitely owes much to the Beatles and the Wings (McCartney again obviously), in fact, sometimes it's incredible how much some of these songs sound like they could have been Wings tracks, but unlike the Wings' tendency toward bombast and overkill, these songs remain sublime and simply brilliant. Besides the McCartney comparisons, there's also the Kinks, the Bee Gees, among others, you might have even heard Rhodes on the soundtrack to The Royal Tenenbaums, and he did have some moderate success, with at least one album and one single charting, but for the most part hovered just below the radar, which is criminal once you hear these songs, 4 albums, every song a practically perfect pop gem, from brooding heartfelt ballads, lush soaring chamber pop, to jangly power pop, his vocals gorgeous, the harmonies angelic, the arrangements incredible.
All four records are fantastic, but his self titled debut, from 1970, ranks up there as one of THEE absolute greatest pop records of all time. Every song could have been a hit, just listen to the sound samples below, the first 5 tracks from that record, impossibly catchy, and dreamy, and lush and so goddamn good. Especially "Long Time No See", with it's strangely morose minor key main melody, fuzzed out psych guitar, strange mix, and super dynamic arrangement, really dark, but still so catchy. As for modern musicians who owe a debt to Rhodes, we'd wager Elliott Smith was a huge fan, and if he wasn't he sure would have been, and Ted Leo is another, mostly the voices, and the knack for crafting hooks.
And while most singer songwriter music from the 70's sounds dated, ALL of these tracks sound as fresh and exciting as ever. If you've never heard Rhodes, you're in for a treat, this collection is one of those rare records, that had practically everybody here in a tizzy, and thus gets played nonstop.
Total pop perfection. Absolutely recommended and totally essential.
On his second release, Bay Area artist The Rhombus (aka Cody Hennesy) offers utterly soothing, warm, down to earth folk pop. The softest spoken acoustic guitars and male vocals are joined by some equally mellow shufflin' electronic textural and rhythmic elements. Everything is ultra hazy and blissed out. For fans of Arab Strap, Badly Drawn Boy, Casiotone For The Painfully Alone and The Delgados seeking something a little lighter and more playful. Really really comfy good!
We know we're only a few months into 2007 but we're pretty sure that Candylion will be right there at the top of the list of our favorite pop records of the year! While we've always sort of liked Super Fury Animals, we have to say this solo outing by front man Gruff Rhys surpasses anything they've ever done! So totally catchy, quirky and impeccably crafted, Candylion is pretty much everything you could want in a pop record. It's so fitting that this record showed up right when Spring finally sprang on SF... this is the perfect soundtrack to carefree afternoons, balmy evenings, topdown freeway excursions as the wind blows in and the sun glows in the sky. Rhys demonstrates great taste and a pretty impressive knowledge of obscure psych rock/pop of the past, in creating his own timeless masterpiece. Whether singing in English or his native Welsh (as he does on a couple tracks), he's a master of vocal melodies and the perfect instrumental accompaniment. When you listen closely you realize there is so much going on from Gameboy beats to flute to pedal steel to stylophone, but like all great pop maestros Rhys knows so perfectly how to incorporate all those elements smoothly and subtly to create dense and dreamy near perfect pop. So totally recommended!
While they definitely possess their own unique sound, when placed among their contemporaries Rhythm Of Black Lines fall in step with the likes of Pleasure Forever (particularly on the ninth song "Dark Mountain"), 90 Day Men, Laddio Bolocko and TV On The Radio. ROBL craft their intriguing music out of residual artifacts of post-rock, Goblin and Morricone film scores, post punk, pop and jazz among other things. The results are at once darkly intoxicating, cerebral and filled with moody tension. And yes, many male vocalists get compared to Thom Yorke these days and I wouldn't want to lump ROBL in with the pack 'cause their far from it, but Omar Chavez and Clint Newsom's hazy dual vocals are indeed reminiscent of the more creative, richly expressive vocalizing of Yorke (rather than his more tried 'n' true melodramatic moan and wail). Along with the vocals, the distinguishing presence of tenor sax, trombone, congas and strings adds much atmosphere and depth to the band's core guitar, bass and drums. Very cool!
The wonderfully drugged out, quasi Middle Eastern sounding instrumental psych jams of Rhyton have come floating, floating back to us again, in the form of Kykeon, the Brooklyn-based trio's fourth fab release. We've been big fans of 'em so far - in fact, we made their now-out-of-print debut a Record Of The Week back in 2011. And this new one's quite lovely and hypnotic, too!
Featuring the multi-instrumental talents of present and former members of No Neck Blues Band, Egypt Is The Magick #, Psychic Ills, Stygian Stride, and others, Rhyton continue to ply their unique style of psych-sploration on the six new cuts here, employing such instruments as electric saz and bouzouki, as well as an arsenal of electronic devices & effects. As usual, amidst the faux-ethnic exotica, they make good use of spacey noise and distortion, and provide plenty of percolating Can-like rhythms, and outright you-could-dance-to-it grooviness at times.
The track "Topkapi" in particular sounds like a super stoned, almost dubby version of something by vintage Turkish psych/folk faves Mogollar or 3 Hur-el, for sure. The album gets nice and heavy too, with the likes of "California Black Box Vapors", doing the blown out stoner guitar jammage thing, yeah. All throughout, the band's meandering Middle Eastern psych vibe is in full, enjoyable effect. So grab your hookahs and crank this up!
Earlier this year, as we hope you recall, we made the "totally tripped out and hypnotic, stonery psych explorations" of Rhyton's self-titled debut for Thrill Jockey an aQ Record Of The Week� it was a limited edition lp, and even more limited cd, and neither version lasted long, flying out of here fast. Sorry if you missed it. Good news then, that at least the Brooklyn-based trio (featuring members of No Neck Blues Band and Psychic Ills) is back already with a new release, this one vinyl-only, and also limited - to just 619 copies, we're told.
On The Emerald Tablet, Rhyton offer up three more slowburning, instrumental psych jams (two of them quite long). Over steady percussive pulsations, side one's 19-minute opus "Obligation" slowly meanders, replete with echoing, effected whale call guitar distortion and improvised, sorta snake charmer melodies. Frazzled fuzz (from electric saz?) smolders amidst this laidback, krautrock inspired throbulation. Think Davis Redford meets Richard Bishop, something like that� There's a slight edge of jazzy skronk, too, moreso on side two's 13 and a half minute finale, with the esoteric-sounding title of "Trismegistus Sto Smaragda". That one's kinda like the first long track, meandery, but with more swing to it, and more chaotic sprawl. And in-between you get the spacey "Revert To Daze", six or so minutes that do sound quite dazed, but melodic and Middle Eastern-y too.
140 gram vinyl, jacket art by Arik "Moonhawk" Roper, includes mp3 download code.
We at aQ are big fans of Brooklyn-based psych-splorers Rhyton (made their Thrill Jockey debut a Record Of The Week in fact) and Rhyton it seems are fans of us too it seems, since they were nice enough to dub us an exclusive limited supply of a new cassette of theirs, originally something they made only for merch sales on a recent European tour. aQ is the only store carrying this release, and we only have 20 copies, that's it forever!
Unity Bailout is 30 minutes, four tracks, of live and rehearsal recordings, the sort of spacey, druggy, drifting jams we expect from these guys (members of No Neck Blues Band and Psychic Ills, by the way). The tape starts off with the 12 minute "Mold Channel", a sprightly, trippy-hippie improv session of head-nodding abstract humid burble all right. Then the darker, dronier "At Endless Buggy Pt. Alpha" begins, featuring more militant marching drum beats and skree-ier guitarwork. Flip the tape and that piece continues into "Pt. Beta", adding some more mumbled, distorted vox, the guitar (and electric saz?) lines getting more sinuous and scrambled, noise and volume building, that buggy of theirs heading down a bumpy road indeed, losing a wheel or two along the way! Such a style of caveman krauty damaged jam is in full effect on the tape's final track too, the almost ten-minute long "In Silent One", even louder and heavier and kinda Haino-esque, with fuzzy feedback guitar carving whale-calls through the murk, propelled by steady drum splatter. It gets pretty freaky, satisfyingly so, 'specially if you like the idea of Burnt Hills or Doktor Kettu jamming on some almost unrecognizable Dick Dale surf licks or something like that. The pulsating moldy walls of Rhyton's presumably subterranean practice space sure absorbed a lot of intense stoner vibes during the recording of this tape. Thanks, Rhyton, for letting us in.
The tape's covers are hand stamped metallic ink on black paper.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
So, sure, "experimental/improv/psych" bands based outta Brooklyn are probably a dime a dozen these days, so what makes the debut from this new Thrill Jockey signing worthy of glorious Record Of The Week status here at aQ? Well, for one thing, Thrill Jockey have had a pretty good track record in that area lately, with aQ fave bands like White Hills and Barn Owl, and fans of either ought to check out Rhyton. At least, we had to give it a listen, and when we did, WOW! Totally tripped out and hypnotic, stonery psych explorations embraced our ears - and we think gently tingled any mystic sixth or seventh senses we may possess. Their jamming has a fuzzed-out edge, and a definite exotic, Eastern vibe, buzzing with electric saz for one thing... as if they're not from Brooklyn, they're from Brooklynistan!
The mesmeric music of Rhyton is a mind-melting mind-meld involving three well-matched musicians, a supergroop of sorts, the trio consisting of D. Charles Speer from the No Neck Blues Band, Jimmy SeiTang of Psychic Ills, and Spencer Herbst from some bands we confess we've not heard of before. Speer is on the strings, playing electric saz, electric mandolin, and baritone guitar. SeiTang is on bass and tape delay. Herbst is on drums and percussion (and videocassettes, we read somewhere?). A good set up for playing something that's rock, but not.
Over the course of the five, mostly long, mainly instrumental tracks here, Rhyton easily convinced us to make this Record Of The Week, or maybe hypnotized us into doing so! We just couldn't say no to their repetitive, reverby bath of shuddering soundwaves, sub-bass pulsations, meandering raga-like "split stereo, dual amped" leads, and loads of oscillators, loops, n' effects.
Relatively mellow opening track "Stone Colored" eases us in, giving us a sense of, if not where Rhyton is going, at least how they're gonna get there. And, as the cliche says, the journey is the destination. That's before the 12+ minute "Pontian Grave" heavies things up even more, and the raw side of Rhyton's experimentation is revealed. And so it goes, Rhyton getting into outre modes of instrumental psychedelic possession, centerpiece "Teke" being the perhaps the most druggily dubbed-out of the album's varied transmissions...and then, on the fantastic final cut, "Shank Raids", we REALLY hear the Middle Eastern influence come to the fore. It's not just the electric saz they've been making use of, on this one the rhythms n' melodies sound straight out of the Turkish psych songbook, stately and spacey, but also gnarly, warped and distortion-damaged, almost what it would be like to Greg Ginn's Gone, or Black Flag circa The Process Of Weeding Out, attempting a Mogollar or 3 Hur-el cover, yeah! There's a whiff of Sun City Girls to this as well.
Eastern aspects aside (or not), Rhyton's unique vibrations are on roughly the same wavelength as those of such outfits as Carlton Melton, Davis Redford Triad, White Hills, Titan, Bardo Pond, etc., and thus this should appeal to quite a few of you. So we say, get it! And get it quick, as the compact disc edition, packaged in a slim handmade sleeve (abstract art glued on front, hand-stamped text on back), is ultra limited to only 200 hand-numbered copies!! We got a bunch, but that bunch is probably all we'll get. Meanwhile, the similarly-appointed vinyl version is just a bit less limited, 500 copies made, and it comes with a postcard insert and free download code.
Huzzah! These two amazing early seventies records by the obscure French prog-folk outfit Catherine Ribeiro + Alpes have turned up *unofficially*, and won't be around for long so you know what that means: Don't Sleep!
Ame Debout (1971) and Paix (1972) were the second and third records by the group which lasted about a decade over seven lps. Ribeiro's commanding and unusual voice, stemming from her Portuguese origins, was the perfect vehicle for multi-instrumentalist and instrument creator, Patrice Moullet, who wrote all of the music and was the constant mainstay as principal member of Alpes. Moullet and Ribeiro first met on the set of Jean-Luc Goddard's film, Les Carabiniers, and soon after Moullet wrote music to accompany Ribeiro's poetry and later formed a full band. Ribeiro has often been called the French Nico, but her voice has far more range and power, like Sandy Denny of Fairport Convention or Judy Henske. But what really set the group apart was Moullet's artistry with innovative instrumentation, creating unique instruments such as the percuphone, cosmophone & orgolia, which gave the group a spacey almost mystical vibe.
Indeed they are like a proggier version of Fairport Convention or Pentangle but much more psychedelic and strange and less rooted in folk traditions. However you cut it, this is French progressive folk at it's best. Both albums come highly recommended!
Huzzah! These two amazing early seventies records by the obscure French prog-folk outfit Catherine Ribeiro + Alpes have turned up *unofficially*, and won't be around for long so you know what that means: Don't Sleep!
Ame Debout (1971) and Paix (1972) were the second and third records by the group which lasted about a decade over seven lps. Ribeiro's commanding and unusual voice, stemming from her Portuguese origins, was the perfect vehicle for multi-instrumentalist and instrument creator, Patrice Moullet, who wrote all of the music and was the constant mainstay as principal member of Alpes. Moullet and Ribeiro first met on the set of Jean-Luc Goddard's film, Les Carabiniers, and soon after Moullet wrote music to accompany Ribeiro's poetry and later formed a full band. Ribeiro has often been called the French Nico, but her voice has far more range and power, like Sandy Denny of Fairport Convention or Judy Henske. But what really set the group apart was Moullet's artistry with innovative instrumentation, creating unique instruments such as the percuphone, cosmophone & orgolia, which gave the group a spacey almost mystical vibe.
Indeed they are like a proggier version of Fairport Convention or Pentangle but much more psychedelic and strange and less rooted in folk traditions. However you cut it, this is French progressive folk at it's best. Both albums come highly recommended!
Terra Incognita is the second retrospective of the work of Boyd Rice / Non, with the first being the emphatically abrasive Easy Listening For Iron Youth released back in the early '90s. For all of his Social Darwinist propaganda, deleterious noise, and semantic provocation, Rice has enjoyed a curious affinity for mood music throughout his 30 year career. For the most part, Muzak and mood music hold benevolent (if insipid) intentions; but this is not so for Rice, as his motivations are a forced communication, in which he directs, wills, or suggests a meaning upon the listener. Within the ambient work that dots his entire catalogue, Rice lulls the audience into relaxing their defenses, at which time he can then slip in any number of subliminally dark or subtly perverse themes. At times, these take the form of complex phase patterns as heard on the infamous Black Album pieced together from physically factured pieces of vinyl sounding like the noxious older brother of Philip Jeck; at other times, Rice presents a grandiously bleak form of isolationism. It's still surprising to hear how listenable these recordings can be.
NYC punk icon Hell reads the first two chapters of his novel Go Now, backed by Robert Quine's guitar.
Year in and year out, Jonathan Richman keeps on opening his heart in song to his legions of devoted fans delight. Charmingly heartfelt, genuinely sweet and seemingly ageless, his latest album Because Her Beauty Is Raw & Wild is Richman at his best. Just him and his guitar nailing you right in the heart over and over again in his unmistakable lilting, multilingual style. A perfect spring into summer album! Breezy and carefree!
I saw the last 2 songs of Jonathan Richman's Live set opening up for Belle and Sebastian (who are rumoured to never have an opening band, except the Tindersticks, and I guess now Jonathon Richman). He was so personable and funny and gave me a warm
We've had quite a month full of Jonathan Richman! Four nights at the Make-Out Room (he played two sets each evening just a hop, skip 'n' a jump around the corner from us) and a totally packed feel-good AQ in-store performance a few days prior to that. 'Twas a genuine non-stop lovefest between Jonathan and his fans! In case you were sleeping under a rock and missed all that... don't miss this! They're such warm and intimate recordings... it's almost like he's perched right there on your stereo guitar in hand. As the title of his 21st (holy smokes!) album suggests, he's so much more about the giving than the receiving. No one leaves without a smile firmly planted on his or her face. This album is pure Richman goodness with many tunes that rank among his best. No vast departures from his past efforts... there's no need for any! His trademark sweetly earnest, quirkily witty songwriting has stood the test of time. One listen will assure you that his wide-eyed musings on romance ("My Baby Love Love Loves Me"), human nature ("He Gave Us The Wine To Taste") and occasionally politics ("Abu Jamal") remain wonderfully intact. He's joined by his pals drummer Tommy Larkin, multi-instrumentalist Ralph Carney, and bassists Miles Montalbano and Greg Keranen. A definite Richman fan's delight!
Hark! O Moon, Queen of Night on Earth... 'tis a new album from the inimitable Jonathan Richman! Sure, his legions of diehard fans have undoubtedly scooped this up already, but some of us are slower on the draw and some folks have somehow yet to discover Mr. Richman as he alternately feverishly and liltingly strums his guitar, and charmingly croons his intimate, yearnful song-stories. He's now in his fourth decade of music making, and he's showing no signs of stopping. He has so many records (both solo and with The Modern Lovers), we've lost count, but we're happy to add this to the stack. A definite pleasure for fans, old and new!
Now you can see San Francisco's favorite New England ex-patriate Jonathan Richman perform live in your very own home! Recorded at The Great American Music Hall in 2002 "Take Me To The Plaza" features 17 tracks from the former Bostonian including such favorites as "I Was Dancing In the Lesbian Bar" and the oft covered standard "Pablo Picasso". For those who've never seen the man perform, Mr. Richman's performances are just as popular for their music as the off kilter humour that he delivers during his concerts. Also included are two interviews with Jonathan, a complete interactive bio (okay, maybe it's not interactive, but in the spirit of things it sounds nicer) and two bonus tracks: "You Can't Talk To The Dude" and "Nineteen In Naples". Total running time is approximately 94 minutes. This DVD is NTSC region 1.
Max Richter first caught our attention with his gorgeous arrangements on Vashti Bunyan's long awaited return to the world of music, 2005's Lookaftering. He's put out several of his own post-classical works, and his latest is just simply stunning. 24 short tracks made for gray days spent looking out the window as rain falls gently and memories drift to the surface. Most of these tracks are under two minutes and were actually intended to be used as ringtones. Somehow Richter is able to pack such strong emotions into these short tracks but also allows the listener to fill in the blanks and wander away. Anyone who uses these as ringtones will for sure be sporting the most elegant and classy cell phone around. Simply beautiful!
Not many musicians and composers are able to create music as beautiful and elegant as Max Richter. Whether it be his stunning albums, soundtracks or arrangements for folks like Vashti Bunyan, Richter has proven to be one of the most restrained and versatile composers of the last decade. Infra was a work originally created as a score for a Ballet called The Waste Land. These fragile, subdued miniatures create such a dislocated and gray musical mood. Allowing your mind to wander or stay frozen in a numbing disbelief. Our only complaint regarding some of his previous work was the incorporation of unneeded and heavy handed spoken word/voices which tended to ruin the flow of the music, but luckily on Infra he smartly keeps that out of the mix and allows the haunting, cloudy sounds he's created to speak for themselves. While this may have been made for a ballet we are finding it the perfect soundtrack to those foggy/cold days we've been having in July (oh San Francisco summer) and those early mornings you find yourself awake but bleary headed and needing a musical companion to your clouded vision and foggy mind. So nice!
My Bloody Valentine's Loveless, Slowdive's Soulvaki, Mazzy Star's So Tonight That I Might See - there are just some records that stand especially tall in the pantheon of shoegaze's finest moments. Ride's album Nowhere belongs right there too, as one of our all time favorites, a truly perfect album from start to finish, that has most definitely stood the test of time. While Ride made some other cool records, they never were able to duplicate the genius of Nowhere. A record that soars and floats with such emotional honesty as well as that dazed 'n glazed vibe that has made it one of those records we've turned at so many different times in our lives. It came out in 1990 and really served as a perfect extension of what folks in the '80s like The Jesus & Mary Chain, Spacemen 3, The Durutti Column, Loop, and The Cure were doing, infusing that sound with an even deeper emotional quality as well as lots of psychedelic undertones, creating music that soared and floated with dreamy ease and driving force.
No matter how hyperbolic we get, we simply can't even get close to describing how much this record means to so many of us. We've turned to it in moments of despair, we've cranked it with windows down on endless drives with crushes and close friends, we've shacked up alone in our bedrooms with this playing during intense moments of loneliness, we've lain in beds with the ones we love lingering in ecstasy as it plays. It's a record that has and will continue to be such a constant source of pleasure for our ears and minds, hearts and souls.
Long out of print, we are SO stoked that Rhino has stepped up to reissue this classic on vinyl now! YOU NEED THIS! (There's also supposedly a special deluxe double cd edition on Rhino that includes a whole mess of bonus tracks, we haven't been able to get our hands on that yet, however.)
Cosmic-kraut lost masterpiece! We knew we would get your attention with that, and for good reason because this is a record that any fan of spaced out kosmiche needs to own. Released in 1978, Wunderbar was the only solo album by Wolfgang Riechmann, as he was tragically murdered just a few weeks before this record originally came out.
Influenced by the sounds around him in Germany you can hear bits of Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Neu!, Kraftwerk, etc. The record has a fluidity to it that just soars and flows with such a shimmering grace. Makes a lot of sense that he was in a band in the early '70s with Michael Rother (Neu!, Harmonia) and Wolfgang Flur (Kraftwerk) called Spirits Of Sound. Recorded over thirty years ago, you can definitely hear Wunderbar's possible influence in the music of folks like Lindstrom, Prins Thomas, Arp, Jonas Reinhardt, Delia Gonzalez & Gavin Russom, Growing, Emeralds, etc. Riechmann would have sounded right at home on the Pilooski curated Dirty Space Disco compilation we love so much, which connected the dots between the spaced out electronic sounds of '70s Germany and cosmic disco dancefloors. We wouldn't be surprised if Matmos was listening to this as inspiration before they made Supreme Balloon. Wunderbar is that rare kind of album that allows you to get lost in space while never losing its keen melodic sense, a sound that is fresh and alive, never stagnant or pointlessly self absorbed. Mind boggling to think how his music would have evolved over the years if his life wasn't ended so abruptly, but here's hoping that Wunderbar finally gets the recognition and respect is so rightfully deserves! And you non vinyl inclined folks hold tight, a cd reissue is on its way in July.
As always, we were way ahead of the curve. You were too, right there with us. Going all the way back to Acid Bath, that seminal NOLA rock band, that somehow combined Eyehategod style sludge, and groovy dramatic emotional rock a la Alice In Chains or Katatonia or Jeff Buckley, we were proclaiming that not only should Acid Bath have been HUGE, but AB frontman Dax Riggs should be a rock star. So here we are over ten years later, and all that time, Riggs has continued on, first with Agents Of Oblivion, then Deadboy And The Elephantmen, all groups and records we LOVED, and played incessantly, but still, Dax and co. lurked way underground, barely even making a ripple in the mainstream music world.
But come last year, Riggs resurfaced, performing live and releasing a pretty decent disc (that we've yet to review), and suddenly being pushed hard, his sound, not all that different from Agents Of Oblivion, but now with some promotional real label muscle behind him. Unfortunately, not much happened with his solo record, so it was time for plan B, the first Deadboy And The Elephantmen record, re-released as a Riggs sort-of-solo record. Fair enough. We proclaimed it genius way way back when, and time has done nothing but demonstrate what a killer slab of dark grooviness and intensely emotional heaviness this record is, was and continues to be. So since lots of folks may not have been around when we first gushed about this disc, figured this was the perfect time to gush again.
Years and years ago, the big rock n' roll sleeper hit here at Aquarius had to be the awesome Agents Of Oblivion album, featuring two crucial ex-members of the late lamented cult band Acid Bath. Heavy, poppy, psychedelic rock with vocalist Dax Riggs crooning beautifully over it all. We shoulda made it record of the week, we all thought in retrospect. It became one of our favorite records EVER. We were really bummed then to hear that the Agents, like Acid Bath before 'em, broke up not long after the album's release. But, rumors filtered in that Dax and a new crew of New Orleans n'er-do-wells had formed a new band with the unlikely name of Deadboy and the Elephantmen to carry on where the Agents left off. Allan confirmed this when he happened to visit N.O. and was lucky enough to catch a live performance from this new band. They had a demo out then, and we anticipated a full album release on some big label to appear soon...we waited...and waited... and eventually a Deadboy record did come out, but the band had to release it themselves, since once again, the big labels had no idea and dropped the ball big time. Mystifiying, 'cause Dax is a rock star if ever there was one, and these guys should have been HUGE. This record is epic and darkly dramatic, heavy and groovy and weird as fuck, but also catchy and beautiful. Totally accessible yet morbidly underground, we hear everything from some voodoo Alice Cooper darkness and drama, to a little Aerosmith swagger, to the heaviness and angst of Alice In Chains of course -- Acid Bath was always an AIC meets EHG (Eyehategod) hybrid, in a really good way. Radiohead's "Ok Computer" is hinted at too, and Jeff Buckley, as the music combines weirdly sensitive melodicism and dark atmosphere inspired by their hometown's swamps and cemeteries. Dax is as impressive as ever, he really *sings*, drawing out vowels over a dozen notes. His vocals are oddly warm and comforting but also anguished and intense. While the songwriting on this album does not quite match the relatively flowery yet heavy tunesmithery of the Agents of Oblivion album, and neither does the instrumentation call attention to itself, that's not necessarily a bad thing here as it lets Dax' voice take center stage and he... just... wails. He's like a sludge metal Bowie, flamboyant, and dramatic, his vocals impossibly emotive and intense. Sometimes despairing, sometimes incantatory. Oh the angst! And the music is a perfect match, going from brooding and minor key, to explosive and space-y. For fans of Alice in Chains, Acid Bath/Agents of Oblivion (of course), Mark Lanegan of Screaming Trees, and Woven Hand. It may have taken a decade, but finally the rest of the world can discover what some of us knew all along�
If we had to pick a favorite rock vocalist, or more specifically VOICE, it would be pretty tough to not pick Dax Riggs. His croon is so intense and emotive and powerful, able to brood and croon, as well as howl like a banshee, or even shriek in full on metal mode. Having done time in the mighty Acid Bath, not to mention Deadboy And The Elephantmen and Agents Of Oblivion, Riggs' voice was always the defining element in all of those bands, beginning with Acid Bath, a serious metal band, whose sound was tempered by Riggs' incredible voice, transforming it into something totally unique, giving it a dark almost cabaret element that was lacking from most metal, most music. As he drifted from Agents Of Oblivion to Deadboy, and finally going it alone, the music got less and less heavy, the sound more and more dramatic, which definitely suited his voice. A voice that sits somewhere between Robert Plant, Glenn Danzig, Mark Lanegan, David Bowie and Jeff Buckley. Super expressive, super unique, and a little bit glammy. His solo records have tended toward the dark and bluesy, the stripped down, Say Goodnight To The World is no different, although the opening title track gets pretty fuzzy and heavy, and might be the most rocking thing we've heard from Riggs in a while, slithery and dark, the riff a little bit sludgey, but it's really just a showcase for his voice, and it soars and trills, and almost cracks, and gives you chills, goosebumps, all that, if there was ever a case of "he could sing the phonebook" it's Riggs.
Folks hankering for the heaviness of the old days probably won't be too into this new record, but if you're like us, and appreciated all the slower jams, the acoustic numbers, even as far back as Acid Bath, then Say Goodnight To The World will sound pretty darn sweet, broody and smoldering, and to be fair, pretty dang rokcing and heavy at moments, the new band is pretty bad ass, and at least half of these tracks get pretty fierce, but those tracks are balanced by some grim balladry, hell, there's even a cover of "Heartbreak Hotel", transformed into some sort of murder ballad, slowed way down, to a crawl, the melody changed quite a bit, the result something seriously harrowing and sinister and awesome. Which pretty much describes this whole record.
WAY recommended for anyone into sounds mysterious and passionate, bleak and intense, heavy and emotional, dark and dramatic...
Acid Bath, Deadboy And The Elephant Men, Agents Of Oblivion, we love them all, due in no small part to frontman Dax Riggs. As we've mentioned before, in numerous reviews of the above mentioned bands, Riggs was and is a rockstar, even in the druggy sludge combo Acid Bath, his soaring super dramatic vocals, and twisted surreal lyrics helped transform that band into something much more than just another NOLA sludgerock outfit. With every new band, came progression, away from the heavy, the dirgey, the druggy, toward a sound much more bluesy, glammy, poppy, but always the focal part was Riggs brooding moody croon.
We recently made the reissued Deadboy And The Elephant Men record If This Is Hell Then I'm Lucky record of the week, reissued under Riggs' name, in a bid by the label, we're guessing, to finally push him toward the mainstream, which makes perfect sense. Even more sense once we heard this, Riggs' first proper solo record, from last year. Fans into stuff like the White Stripes, Wolfmother, the Black Keys, no reason they shouldn't be digging this just as much. The sound on We Sing Of Only Blood And Love is a weird slithery Southern bluesy drugrock, incorporating bits of glam pop, gospel, AC/DC groove, but most of all, lots and lots of blues. Makes sense that this came out on Fat Possum, same label as the Black Keys. In lots of ways, this actually sounds quite a bit like the Black Keys, only if they were raised on Eyehategod instead of Howlin Wolf. Supercharged metallic blues, with pounding drums and some awesome churning riffage. But like with everything Riggs does, it's all about THAT voice. As rich and lustrous and over the top as ever, so much so, that at times, it almost sounds like Jimmy from the Frogs, full of trills and soaring almost operatic drama. Which is not at all a bad thing, and that voice all tangled up with these sludgey blues riffs, it's tough to beat.
There's also a bunch of stripped down, more acoustic numbers, sprawling and skeletal. The vibe very Mark Lanegan, sinister and languorous, but where Lanegan's voice is a whiskey soaked baritone, ominous and haunting, Riggs voice again, is intense and almost over the top.
If you're fans of any of Riggs' other outfits, and lord knows you sure as shit should be, you'll definitely need this. But for the uninitiated, this just might be the Riggs record that's accessible enough to turn him into the rockstar he's always should have been.
Something new from the Dynamophone label, those SF based purveyors of the shimmering-est, hazily atmospheric-est and loveliest sounds from around the globe. Whereas many of their recent releases have been of the drifting soundscape ilk (Fjordne, Abbasi brothers, etc), Rigil's Concertina Heart is an angora soft, dream pop debut. It delivers much more in the way of song structure, but still offers the enveloping warmth and intricate crystalline textural details typical of most releases on the label. The ten tracks are a nicely balanced mix of vocal songs and instrumentals. On the former, hushed lullaby melody vocals are intimately sung by 20 year old British lad Robert Slade as feathery wisps of Ovalesque electronic glitchiness flit about like fireflies dancing with candle flames. Very nice indeed!
The highly anticipated new album from Rilo Kiley doesn't disappoint! Don't know what happened since their last album but Ms Jenny Lewis' voice sounds so much more worldly and laissez faire this time around. And the group as a whole is exuding such charm and confidence as they execute punchy pop numbers (check out the excellent Cardigans-y "Portions For Foxes") and swoonworthy ballads (complete with grand string arrangements) with equal ease and polish. So much less cute than past releases, and remarkably more like '70s female singers such as... please don't take this the wrong way!... Crystal Gayle or Linda Ronstadt. Really, pretty darn great!
