Holy Wonder Bread, Batman! Rilo Kiley's new album is so unbelievably adult contemporary. Its title is somewhat misleading, if not downright incongruous. Don't know about you, but the thought of black lights makes us think of trippin' out at Doodle Arts in the wee hours or gettin' lost in the sweaty masses on the dancefloor. Well, Rilo Kiley's Black Light is more apropos for pondering the glowing bits of lint in your belly button or gazing adoringly at a dish of vanilla custard. On this their fourth (and first on a major label) album they seem to be aspiring for the heights of the classic rock heroes of the '70s such as Fleetwood Mac and The Eagles, but Lewis in particular has ended up more in line with Olivia Newton John circa "Have You Never Been Mellow" than Stevie Nicks. If you like your pop smooth, polished and pretty, Rilo Kiley's follow-up to 2004's More Adventurous will coat, soothe and relieve. A band you can take home to mom.
Stunning debut from New Mexican born singer and ukelele player, Danielle Stech-Homsy or as she's known musically, Rio En Media. Released on Devendra Banhart and Andy Cabic's label Gnomonsong, it's easy to tell why Devendra pegged her as one of his favorite acts of 2006. With a voice like Sibylle Baier, The Bride of Dynamite is full of nineteenth century poetic romanticism with lyrics inspired by Paul Eluard, William Blake, John Ashbery and Freya Stark, the first western woman to travel the Arabian desert. Such wanderlust is shaded by a unique instrumentation of glockenspiels, bulba tarang (an instrument from Afghanistan), damaged electronic passages and the aforementioned ukelele. Siera Casady from Coco Rosie provides the back-up vocals while Vetiver's Andy Cabic, and Thom Monahan, who is the behind scenes sound wizard for many of Andy and Devendra's projects lend a hand on guitar and production work respectively Nice!
**SALE **SALE* *SALE**
Wow, a very nice collection of the best of Minnie Riperton, who possessed one of THE most amazing voices in the history of rock and soul music -- hey, everyone from Stevie Wonder to Denzel Washington to George Benson will tell you that. (Denzel said he got thru the toughest time in his life by listening to her Perfect Angel album over and over again.) Her biggest hit "Lovin' You" amply demonstrated her astonishing (and perhaps unmatched since?) 5 1/2 octave vocal range and ability to hold notes for what seem like minutes.
Minnie grew up on Chicago's Southside, cut some tracks as "Andrea Davis", then was invited to join the multiracial psychedelic / rock / soul group Rotary Connection. Most people familiar with Rotary Connection back in the day say they should've been huge, and that if they had only gotten the exposure they deserved (such as a slot at Woodstock), they would've caught on like wildfire -- that's how good they were. Three Rotary Connection tracks are included here, a totally unrecognizable version of Otis Redding's "Respect", a Cream cover, and an unreal Middle Eastern-ish epic called "I Took a Ride (Caravan)" (see soundclips below).
When Minnie decided to make a series of solo albums, she left the psychedelic heaviness of Rotary Connection for a sound all her own -- part soul, part rock, always forefronting her incredible songbird-like voice. She did everything from stark Joni Mitchell covers to down home funky songs like "Reasons" (my favorite song of hers, ever, see soundclips below) to sweet bell-clear love songs penned by her and her husband by the duck pond in the idyllic little Florida backwater house they lived in for two years. Stevie Wonder was proud to produce the tracks, and she enjoyed several "hits" before her untimely death of breast cancer at the age of 31. She is sorely missed.
This 2-disc collection is ultra-handy because it collects Minnie's best tracks in one place, as well as showcasing previously unreleased demos and live tracks (and admittedly just a few duds). The liner notes are quite extensive and detailed, and the photos are... well, let's just say you'll be in love after seeing the photo of her with the overalls and the ice cream cone. Recommended!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
We finally saw that Rodriguez documentary, Searching for Sugarman, which was pretty great, but we couldn't help notice that the filmmakers completely ignored the best song on the Cold Fact record which in our opinion wasn't "Sugarman", but the song after it called, "Only Good for Conversation". We really wanted to know the story behind that one. Who was "the coldest bitch" he knew? That song has been a deep cut in heavy psych-fuzz circles for a long time and really hits home, at least for us, the deep bitterness of Detroit, so hard-hitting and close to the bone.
Fast forward ten years later to 1981 and out of Detroit comes another beaten down hard-laborer who has big rock music dreams, ambition and a visionary album concept. But for Rich Ristagno and his sole release, What Would It Like to Be Rich?, there was no alternate universe on the other side of the globe where he was bigger than Elvis. In fact, this record may not have seen the light of day had it not been for an early single he recorded a few years earlier that went nowhere which finally caught the attention of the same Michigan rock enthusiasts who freaked out over Rodriguez. Eventually, stacks of the unreleased full length were discovered unsleeved and undistributed in Ristagno's basement. Turns out, the artwork was never made for the record, and he didn't know how to go about doing it and so his initial pressing sat there gathering dust.
This private press recording was made with the help of a local Detroit studio and their in-house band Soular Flight who give Ristagno's dark autobiographical lyrics an outsider funk-rock edge. Ristagno's voice has a Lou Reed meets Shuggie Otis quality, a kind of dry soulfulness that anchors the heavy stoned funkiness of his backing band and the acid guitar shred that cascades around his straight ahead reverbed delivery. Fans of Wicked Witch and Stark Reality, take note! If Rodriguez had made a whole album that sounded like "Only Good For Conversation", this is probably close to what it would sound like. Thanks Drag City for rescuing another ill-fated obscurity.
Finland's Fonal label has brought us a lot of favorites, that's for sure -- Islaja, Kiila, Paavoharju, Shogun Kunitoki, and more. So of course we were quite curious about their latest release, from a band called Risto. Here's the informative blurb we were provided with that was supposed to describe what Risto's all about:
"Leevi & the Leavings in the city, Ville Leinonen in handcuffs, Kauko Royhka in self-pity, Kari Peitsamo as a smart person. Risto brings back that self-esteem, naivity and reality that died with Gosta Sundgvist. Have you already heard what they whisper around Tampere?"
Hmmm. Not being that hip nor Finnish nor both, that doesn't help a whole lot, does it? Well let's just give it a listen and see if we can figure out this Risto. Track one, "Rakkauden Rock" launches this album out of the gate with an uber-distorted rockin' basher, the band coming off as something like a Finnish language version of The Cramps!! Not what we expected exactly, but pretty cool. But then the raucous punkabilly of that song immediately gives way to the placid loveliness of "Auringon Prinsessa", all mellow and melodic. But with track three we're back to the energetic and uptempo... and track four, "Discopallo", is downright funky! But following that, the gentle "Pikkoravat" drifts back to mellow moodiness. What gives? We don't know. Crazy Finns is our default answer. The important thing is, we like it!! Risto veer from the noisy and punk to the sweet and lush, and it's all nice and catchy and weird and fun, songs influenced by no wave and doo wop and whatever else strikes their fancy, sounding like Aavikko's "monkey jazz" one moment, a lullaby the next. With all the lyrics in their native tongue, we can't tell you what the songs are actually about, but we're enjoying their spirited, schizophrenic music regardless. Another, atypical, fab Fonal release!
We've been meaning to carry some Jean Ritchie for a long while. Our Appalachian folk cupboards seeming to be bone-dry bare without her exquisite interpretations of British traditional ballads of love, death and the supernatural filtered through the high lonesome rural-ness of the Kentucky mountains. Like fellow Kentuckian, John Jacob Niles, she was early on a noted student of musicology and folklore (as well as an amazing lap dulcimer player,) and keenly interested in the British roots of the songs she learned as a young girl. This anthology covers her interpretations of many of The Child Ballads, one of the first and most extensive catalogs of British traditional songs and their American variants put together in the late nineteenth century by Francis James Child, which includes songs with roots as far back as the thirteenth century, and deal with plenty of dark, gruesome and ghostly themes. Standouts on this anthology are Ritchie's version of one of our favorite morbid ballads, "Sweet William and Lady Margaret", also known just as "Lady Margaret" which was also featured on Karen Dalton's Green Rocky Road. So Beautiful!!!
Ways Of Being collects a handful of rare, previously cassette only tracks from this moody minimal electronic cold wave dream pop songstress from Australia, her sound hazy, and druggy, and woozy and washed out, super spare drum machine rhythms dubbed out and doused in reverb, over which RW, aka Stacey Wilson, drapes wheezing synths, multi tracked FX caked vocals and softly pulsing basslines, everything blurred into one heavenly swirling sonic mass.
But the sounds here, while all plenty moody and murky, are still surprisingly varied, from the super spaced out, dub heavy, rumbling drone driven, space-dirge of "Ill Health", to the ominous Casio-core skitter of "Thieves", to the moody drifty melodic murk of "Detached Living", to the haunting minimal gloom pop of "Make Plans". Some of the tracks slip into near Stereolab / Broadcast territory (albeit a much murkier, low fidelity variant), while others pile on the FX until the original song all but disappears beneath a haze of sonic swirl, the vibe is gorgeously melancholic, darkly droney, psychedelic and spectral, equal parts Grouper, Fabulous Diamonds, U.S. Girls, Death And Vanilla, Cough Cool and other purveyors of haunting, otherworldly lo-fi dream-psych ghost-pop.
The gloomy post-punk monochromaticism of Ritual Howls has its antecedents - the ominous decadence of the Red Lorry Yellow Lorry and Sisters Of Mercy, meshed with the low-slung swagger of the Lynch / Badalamenti incidental musics from Lost Highway or Wild At Heart. Yes, those are very welcome things for the black-clad denizens of the world; and Ritual Howls makes good in their application of these references. Turkish Leather follows a handful of suitably sub-underground cassettes, including several on the cult industrial-noise publishing house Nostivelo. On those cassettes, Ritual Howls thrived in the catacomb murk of overblown production with a single microphone picking up a thunderously loud session a la Les Rallizes Denudes. Here on Turkish Leather, Ritual Howls did find themselves in a studio, which allows them plenty of room to breath in all of the asbestos, nuclear fallout, or swamp gas, depending on what post-apocalyptic scenario you'd want to locate Ritual Howls. Of course, their home town of Detroit all serves them well in that regard, though there's very much a southwestern tremolo-laden twanginess that echoes through these propellant goth-punk tunes. Had these lads been from Los Angeles gigging at the Scream in the '80s, they would have been right at home.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
We may have missed out on legendary punk rock outfits Gorilla Biscuits, CIV and Youth Of Today (even though one of us is indeed straight edge), but holy shit did we love Quicksand, the connection being frontman Walter Schreifels, who played in all four, but for many of us, Quicksand was our introduction to Schreifels, and what an introduction, totally epic heaviness, huge riffs, killer songs, the band a crack team of crushers, Schreifels' voice so distinctive, raspy but emotional and intense.
After the dissolution of Quicksand, Schreifels went on to start various projects, one called Walking Concert, and this one, the long running Rival Schools, but unlike the heavy post punk crush of Quicksand, most of Schreifels's post Quicksand output was way more pop, a sound he was surprisingly well suited to (which was definitely hinted at in Quicksand), the first Rival Schools record, United By Fate, still kills, so we were super excited to find out about a brand new record, the first RS record in a decade, and very little has changed since United By Fate, big crunchy powerful pop songs, like a stripped down Quicksand in a way, another one of those bands that if there were any justice, these guys would be playing stadiums, and Letterman, the sound is aggressive, and heavy, but also jangly and hooky and way melodic, the vocals as distinctive as ever. Might be a bit too wimpy for punks and metalheads, but heavy pop fiends should definitely check this out (and United By Fate).
I was so excited to find this record a few moths back. I had been waiting like crazy (if one can wait like crazy) for the Rival Schools record (Walter from Quicksand's new band) and here it was. What a score! So I brought it home, threw it on, and it wasn't
Track five is a languid, slow rolling moody epic, with rumbling slow strummed guitars, and chiming harmonics sounding like the Wipers or Nirvana's Lithium alllll sloooowed dooooown. The record closes with a bang. A huge crunching, sort of bouncy Quicksand style guitar attack. Crunchy stop-start riffs (ala Helmet's 'In The Meantime') but with Walter's scratchy sad boy wail and totally epic almost sing-along choruses. So so good. I love this record!
It's been a while since we last heard from Rivulets, aka Nathan Amundson, whose sound is a delicate acoustic guitar driven slowcore folk, haunting, hushed and intimate, and whose career has seemed always tangentially connected to slowcore pioneers Low, due in no small part to Low's Alan Sparhawk having long championed Rivulets, taking them on tour, playing on their records, and even releasing one of their albums. For whatever reason we pretty much forgot about Rivulets entirely, even though they tour tirelessly and this is in fact full length number four, and when we discovered there was a new record, this one, for whatever reason, our first impulse was that we didn't really care, and weren't all that into the band. But within the first 90 seconds, we remembered exactly what we loved about Rivulets, so much emotion conveyed with so little, the arrangements spare and sparse, Amundson's vocals gorgeous and warm and intimate, and the opening song here, the aforementioned 90 seconds (or so) is darkly delicate, and sweetly melancholy, just vocals and guitar, until about a minute in, when the song gets just a little bit more lush, then shortly after, some of the dreamiest vocal harmonies ever, only the hardest of hearts could not be smitten. We were most taken by the second track though, "No Talking", which starts off all spidery guitar, barely there percussion, clouds of cymbal shimmer, Amundson's vocals, slipping into a lovely falsetto, a gorgeous bit of folky balladic creep, the sort of thing that could have gone on forever, but then it begins to ramp up, electric guitar, the drums hitting a little bit harder, eventually building to a full on psychedelic blow out, the guitars all tangled up in a wild sonic swirl, the cymbals emitting sheets of metallic shimmer, before fading out, leaving just that muted percussion, and that melancholy guitar melody. Might be one of our favorite new songs so far this year. And to be honest the record is full of 'em. A gorgeous collection of hushed softly psychedelic slow core folk, with some surprising dynamics, and some awesomely explosive moments. A new favorite for sure. Definitely recommended for fans of Palace, Songs: Ohia, Iron And Wine, Herman Dune, Mt Egypt, and the rest.
The rainy season has poked its chilly overcast head into the sunny skies here in SF. And in timely fashion, the wonderfully downcast Rivulets has returned too. Primarily the work of one gent Nathan Amundson, Rivulets has been graced with some notable guest players over the years including Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker of the likemindedly somber Low. On You Are My Home, Amundson is joined by the none too shabby musical guests Codeine's Chris Brokaw, Jessica Bailiff, Christian Frederickson of Rachel's, Boxhead Ensemble's Fred Lonberg-Holm and Bob Weston of Shellac and Mission Of Burma. Their combined guitars, keyboards, strings and horns work together with Amundson's heartbroken voice magically to create a deep dark melancholia.
Warm, intimate and gentle. Rivulets' slow, pretty songs are based primarily around the voice and acoustic guitar strumming of mainman Nathan Amundson, but with the delicate textural and melodic embellishments of humming optigan, chiming xylophone, droning
Jim O'Rourke's "Bad Timing" seems to have become a seemingly influential album, oddly because at the time of its release it seemed to mostly notable as a John Fahey parody. Yet, it opened the ears of indie and alt.country fans not only to the works of Fahey and Souled American, but also the floodgates for a handful of interesting experimentations with folk & country aesthetics, such as Loftus, Tim Foljhan's Two Dollar Guitar albums, and now this collaboration between Rick Rizzo (from Eleventh Dream Day) and Tara Key (from Antietam). Interludes of farfisa and guitar distortion fit snugly in this sleepy album of delicately played instrumental folk. A strong showing.
DJ RJD2 sampled his way to notoriety with 2002's Dead Ringer and garnered comparisons to Moby and DJ Shadow with his subsequent release Since We Last Spoke. Now it seems he's put all of that behind him in a display of versatility with the very different The Third Hand. The samples and synths that gained the aforementioned praise are present in his current work, but are much more subdued, perhaps to not overshadow another first for the artist - his own vocals. The album slips smoothly from electro pop to electro funk/hop on it's most noteworthy tracks "Beyond" and "Sweet Piece." The promo for this record boldly declares the works to be "genre transcending." We're not so sure the album transcends as much as gently combines and modernizes what we love most about particularly notable genres (Brian Wilson and Stevie Wonder are also mentioned in the promo), but still pretty dang cool.
The Third Hand saw RJD2 (Ramble John Krohn) stray a bit from the samples and scratching that gained him notoriety as a DJ. Third Hand was the first record Krohn produced all on his lonesome and the first to feature his own vocals. The result was an album that slipped smoothly from electro pop to electro funk/hop and impressed many critics as a display of his versatility and songwriting abilities rather than his DJ skills.
Therefore, we were surprised to see an instrumental version. It makes sense that one might want instrumentals of songs from Deadringer or Since We Last Spoke to weed out the sampled vocals and rapping that lay atop some pretty impressive scratching and mixing, but none of that is present on The Third Hand and the result without vocals is alarmingly a lot like telephone hold music. Frankly, it's a bit boring. That said, we wondered why he didn't spice it up a bit and remix his own instrumental tracks? But after all, he's already produced and arranged the music over his own vocals to create a distinct sound, and maybe it's hard to go back when you've gone so far. Perhaps Krohn's intentions are to see what others can do with the record, because while the music is less than exciting on it's own, it might be a good sample for someone else to work into their own music...
The black and white photo on the cover, of a taxidermed but still quite alarming bat, wings spread, fangs bared, malevolent and mummified, looking like some decaying Victorian museum exhibit, perfectly heralds the organic, psychedelic, and somewhat disturbing dronology to be heard on the disc within. Sometimes creepy, but fascinating and atmospheric. And, in a way, beautiful, like the delicate membrane of the bat's wings.
Look, we don't rave about EVERYTHING on Utech. Just most things on Utech. In fact, we haven't even yet reviewed several the label's previous batch of releases (among them Architeuthis Rex, The Skull Defekts/The Sons Of God, and Ural Umbo), but had to rave about this one (and a couple other cool new titles as well, you'll find highlighted elsewhere on this list: Bassett/Graf and Arcn Templ). RM74 is the solo project of Swiss soundmeister Reto Mader, who also plays in Ural Umbo, Sum of R, and Pendulum Nisum (of which we've only heard the former). And while that Ural Umbo disc Utech recently released was interesting, this solo effort from Mader REALLY caught our ears. Not that it's easy to describe. Abstract and ominous soundscapery, "music" bathed in glowing shimmer and shuddering suspenseful drone. It's all instrumental electro-acoustic experimentation, Mader playing guitars, strings, percussion, piano, electronics, kalimba, organ, synthesizer, and effects... the disc divided up into 11 individual tracks that are different enough to really stand out as "pieces", each one its own mysterious transmission from Mader's outsider imagination, and the spirits that move him. For instance, the opener, appropriately titled "Early Morning Fog", begins with swelling, buzzing drone and hum, mesmerically undulating, eventually adorned with what sounds like the gentle plinking of a fragmented music-box melody... already we're entranced.
Most of the tracks operate upon a basis of electronics, effects, radio static, buzzes, and morse code clicks, the instrumentation not so easily recognizable, though for instance you can definitely hear steel strings of a guitar twanging reverberantly on track three, "Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea", amidst creaking sounds suggestive of a wooden ship at sea, perhaps...
As well as being a great release for Utech, Reflex we think would sound equally at home on the Miasmah label, although it would fall on the "grinding-est" side of their catalog. Other "Recommended If You Like" comparison candidates for this might be the Guillaume Gargaud discs we've reviewed recently, or Gregory Mullen, or the murky microscopic textures of certain Jewelled Antler recordings... Recommended at any rate, regardless of whether we can find adequate analogies for it!
The packaging, unlike most Utech releases, this isn't in a slim sleeve, but in a thicker, all-cardboard digipack style package, with a pocket (a little tight, we must say) inside for the cd, another for a folded insert which depicts that bat in fuller detail. LIMITED TO 500 COPIES, also!
The proto-metal lovin' legions who read the AQ list should be quite pleased with this reissue - take a trip down this particular Road and it's heavy riffing all the way, early '70s style! A power trio put together by former Jimi Hendrix Experience bassist Noel Redding in 1972, Road only made this one record for a rock-oriented Motown sub-label (the eco-friendly Natural Resources) before they broke up, and it quickly became lost to the mists of time, though we'd have thought Hendrix fans, if they'd heard it, would have been chuffed... anyone who likes stoned hard psych, with loads of wah wah wailing will dig this, it's total hippie heaviness (well, "I'm Going Down The Country" isn't so heavy, it's an acoustic jam, natch). There's some sixties sike-pop to it as well. But tracks like "Mushroom Man" and "Spaceship Earth" are spaced out and heavy all right, these three long hairs dishing out quite the din, with the 9+ minute album closer, title track "Road" gettin' almost DOOMY riff-wise.
Certainly deserving of recognition in the proto-metal realm, Road goes with Toad, Cactus, Moses, Tiger B. Smith, etc., and is probably the best thing that Redding did post-Hendrix, though we haven't heard his whole discography, to be sure. But it beats Fat Mattress, in volume and heft for sure, despite that earlier outfit's name (the drummer here was also in Fat Mattress, by the way, while the guitarist hailed from Rare Earth).
This is one of several new reissues from the new Relics label (Churchills, Aguaturbia are some other, more internationally-oriented titles that just came out, we'll be listing soon too). Nice to have, though the booklet's a bit skimpy, the cover reproduction looks kinda washed out and blurry. It does include something in the way of liner notes, though, from which we learn that Redding fell down some stairs at Frank Zappa's place prior to the formation of Road. Hmm, that almost sounds like the description of a band, but not this one! Thankfully he recovered from the accident and added Road to the list of awesome proto-metal obscurities.
Ultra obscure, freaky French '70s underground psychedelic proto punk reissued, oui!! Crazy how there's still stuff like this out there ready to be (re)discovered. The Rob Jo Star band originally put this out in 1975, probably under the influence of the Velvets and the Stooges, kinda like cult Canadian contemporaries Simply Saucer. Like SS, the Rob Jo Star Band packs these tracks with all kinds of ridiculous synth blurt, electronics swooshing and bleeping and farting all throughout this album, other key elements of which include jangling distorted guitars and heavily accented vocals... Pretty darn cool if you ask us! There's moments that sound like a French version of The Cramps, inside a spaceship; others where the singer gets kinda Damo, and basically it's a healthy (or perhaps unhealthy) dose of throbbing fuzz, chugging rock n' roll rhythms, handclaps, wild vox, with song titles like "Acid Revolution" and "Blood Flower". File with the likes of Soggy, Angel Face, and Metal Urbain...
Limited edition, import.
With her clear, velvety voice steeped in emotion and yearning, Missy Roback easily draws comparisons to Aimee Mann or Margot Timmins of Cowboy Junkies. She sings with such enviable grace and ease. As well, there's quite a few things in common with the recent debut from fellow-SFer Snowy (aka Bonni Evensen). Apart from the striking vocal similarities, there's also the presence of Tim Mooney (ex-American Music Club), and Steve Roback (ex-Rain Parade) on her team - handling the production and mix duties respectively as well as playing a number of the instruments - not to mention that this too is a polished, impressive debut. She blends the sounds of swirling chamber pop, ghostly psych-twang, and maybe even some '60s girl group balladry thrown in for good measure. The result? A lovely album that's refined, self-assured and composed. Hannah Marcus guests on the title track.
Here's a quandary for ya: What do you do when your absolute fave band (in this case, SPOON) hasn't put out a new record in ages, and up pops a new band that sounds JUST LIKE THEM?! Are you gonna give the new band a big ol' raspberry for bein' a copycat?! But Robbers On High Street aren't really just a copycat mimicking Britt Daniel's vocal style (which is of course a key element of Spoon's magic) atop pretty straight-up Spoon-eque guitar pop. No, we've gotta say the Robbers' songwriting is pretty darn sharp, and this album as a whole is really really great. Seems to be another one of those bands with a vocalist that can't really help the way he sings, and who therefore will be forever nagged by comparisons to the band their detractors claim they are ripping off, which will unfortunately always overshadow how good a band they really are (Muse vs. Radiohead anybody?). But c'mon, a good record is a good record, and Fine Lines is a really good record. Plus it -is- perfect to hold you over until the new Spoon record. And who knows, if Spoon aren't careful, and don't get a new record out soon, maybe they'll be the ones accused of being copycats next time around.
I swore we would try to review this record without mentioning it, but what can you do? It's so blatant and obvious and undeniable. This band sounds EXACTLY like Spoon. I mean exactly. Dark and moody, shuffly rhythms with brooding pianos and a voice that is uncanny its similarity to Spoon's Britt Daniel. But to that we say "so what?!?" This record is awesome. And for us at least, who can argue with a new Spoon record, whether it's by Spoon or not. Granted, there -are- differences. The Robbers are much less experimental. way more poppy and accessible. And when they rock they definitely slip into Strokes / Interpol territory, which again is not necessarily a bad thing. There's also a liberal sprinkling of horns which is a nice surprise too. I usually defend bands who have a singer that sounds like another singer (sounding like Ozzy is a common example) because you can't really help how you sing, your voice is your voice for the most part, but when the voice that sounds much like another singer, is then complimented by a band that just happens to sound like that other singer's band, well then you gotta wonder just a little, if the band thinks to themselves "Holy shit, we sound a lot like Spoon." So if you're a stickler for absolute originality, then The Robbers On High Street might be a bit to close to -that- other band. But if you're looking for some dark and intense, catchy and rocking experimental pop, you'd be hard pressed to do better than Tree City. At least until the new Spoon record.
Latest chuck of spaced out doom drone from these long time aQ faves, Burners finds the group getting seriously melodic, sort of. Where on past records, RD trafficked more in abstract drones and ambient doom, and psychedelic soundscapery, the three extended tracks here are more slowcore than doomdrone, more space rock that soundscape, a new direction for sure, but without losing the various drone and doom elements that made past records so compelling.
The record opens with a loooooong stretch of moaning ambience, heaving slabs of muted crumbling distortion, before the drums kick in, a simple, skeletal, almost krautrock beat, and then the rest of the band launch into a droney, fuzzed out space rock dirge, tons of reverb and echo and delay, distant tinkling melodies buried in the mix, the vocals processed to the point that they become just another layer of swirling sound, a plodding, hypnorock workout that builds to a blown out, seriously in-the-red finish. The second track dials it back a bit, all tribal drumming and warm whirring organs, more reverbed vox, washed out and ethereal, murky and muddy, a gorgeously blurred bit of slowcore lumber.
The second side is all one track, which begins with keening soft melodies over buzzing layered low end, and epic slowburning dirge, almost like White Hills or the Heads, at 16 rpm, a blown out space rock, slowed waaaaay down and wrapped in layer after layer of haze and grit and buzz. Majestic, melodic, melancholic, the bass thick and billowing and blackened, the guitars howling above it all, total, with a blurred tribal outro, garbled vox, chiming guitars, tons of effects, all drifting beneath a ever shifting layers of sonic murk, total space kraut doom dirge bliss!
Seems like the LA based doooom dronelords Robedoor have slowed their endlessly prolific output lately, pretty sure these guys are in a bunch of other projects and are busy running record labels and stuff, but either way we're happy to have a few copies of their brand new cassette on Monorail Trespassing. Exorcism Blues delivers four brand new tracks of mind-melting, ground ripping heavy drone that falls somewhere between the synth sorcery of the recent secret abuse lps and the dark, doom drone stylings of earlier Robedoor recordings. Slow trudging glacial ambience that melts beneath the paralyzing summer heat. Super killer and super limited, we've only got a handful of these so act fast in you want one, they'll be gone before you know it!
Latest chunk of dirgey psychedelia from these aQ faves, and as we noticed on the past few records, Robedoor's sound has been growing consecutively more melodic, their songs sounding more like, well, songs, rather than extended freakout jams. These three tracks here offer more proof that Robedoor do in fact have a softer side, but fear not, they're still plenty distorted and dark and tripped out, the songs are just more restrained, they'd have to be to fit 3 on a 7". But the shift suits them, washes of keening high end drift above scrabbling bass suspended in the ether, guitars chime and ring off in the distance, each track is a slow build from spare spaceiness to tribal pummel, the rhythms minimal yet propulsive, vocals hazy with effects and woven into the fabric of these songs, another layer in an already thickly layered sound, the tracks grow more and more dense, usually culminating in spaced out droney drift, laced with delicate melodies, all psychedelic and fuzzy and murky and way psychedelic, and pretty dang kick ass!
The latest from these longtime aQ psychedelic heavy faves finds the group's shift to the Hands In The Dark label accompanied by a crazy stylistic sonic shift as well, sounding almost exactly like what you might imagine a Robedoor record would / should sound like on a label that is more geared toward twisted electronics and beat driven weirdness. The opening track begins with a sort of crunk style programmed almost hip hop sounding beat, then introduces thick, densely buzzing swaths of low end, almost like super low end dubstep wobbles, then in swoop streaks of swirling almost symphonic synths. The sound heavy, but more textured and dense than properly psychedelic, and while there does seem to be some guitars that creep in here and there, they mostly add some tripped out psychedelic effects or buzzing textures, cuz for the most part, at least for the bulk of the song it's a strange electro-psych synth-hop trip out, that gradually grows more noisy and freaked out by the song's end with some distorted vocals, and some actual guitar buzz, all of which eventually explode into a super distorted squall for the last minute or two. Holy shit, so cool, easily the weirdest, coolest thing we've heard from these guys for sure.
And while we were sort of expecting that opener to be a sort of anomaly, the rest of the record is just as weirdly warped and electronic. With a title like "Blasted Orb", track two seems like it should be some Les Rallizes style blow out, but instead, it's all skittering electronic rhythms, bleating horn like melodies, woozy shimmery textures, layered loops, dense crumbling textures, psychedelic certainly still but more a sort of beat heavy electro-psych.
"Flannel Shroud" is all electronic pulsations, heaving orchestral synth blurts, super processed, reverbed vox, a twisted mix of psychedelic garage rock, and electro synthscapery, but it works, heady and hypnotic and freaky and far out, with some Eastern style sitar sounding melodies, the end of the track cranking up the tempo, where the usual Hawkwind style blowout would go, but instead, it's a weird sort of electro-kraut psych out, with wild tangled electronic leads over programmed beats, and still more crumblingly distorted textures. And finally, "Concrete Brother" is a sort of electro-garage sci-fi creep, slithery and plodding, the drums pulsing and distorted, with thick synth (guitar?) buzz, yowled reverbed vox, keening high end melodies, weird industrial clatter, like some sort of modern avant take on the grim electronic swagger of Suicide, but heavily psychedelicized, droney, and dirgey and drowsily hypnotic. So goddamn great!
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES!!! Already sold out at the label, so these are very likely our last copies!!! Includes a download code too!
Another sprawling drone space psychedelic doom bliss workout from these Southern California sonic explorers. Whereas past records were seriously dense and grim and droney, Raiders finds the band blossoming into some seriously lysergic space doom drift, vocals soaring through fields of reverb, the guitars thick slabs of burnished buzz, the drums skeletal, the whole vibe druggy and dreamy, and way more ethereal.
The band do get heavier, hauling out the fuzz bass, and letting the drums get all tribal, but even then the thick clouds of rumbling blur, are laced with spidery tendrils of glistening high end melodies, and a soft hazy gauze of smeared vocals and layered effects, trippy and buzzy, drifting into Loop / Spacemen 3 territory, albeit a bit more ferocious and feral. Throughout though, the band seem to keep the ambience anchored to songs, or at least almost-songs, everything melodic, subtly or otherwise, sometimes pretty and haunting, other times chaotic and crushing, and again at other times hushed and minimal.
Still plenty doomy and droney, but probably Robedoor's prettiest and songiest slab of sound to date.
First Robedoor release we've listed in a while, but by no means have these guys been slacking. Nope, we just looked away for a few months and 3 or 4 lps slipped �under the radar, so we're gonna try to get all caught up, beginning with this, the newest (we think), from this drone-y duo.
We've always dug these guys, whether they were doing something muted and whispery, or kicking out the thick drone-y jams, this one is a little of both, probably leaning toward the former.
The first side begins with an almost tranquil landscape of processed rhythmic buzz, that soon becomes a cacophonous roar, warm, thick synthy drones lay atop pulsing subterranean rumbles, deep subtle percussion peppers loooooong drawn out tones, a burst of textured noise erupts, spewing thick buzzing crumbling guitars, barely audible chant like vocals are buried underneath, super noisy, but weirdly hypnotic and dreamlike.
The flip side is split into two extended tracks, the first is a super abstract doomy groove, wailing plaintive guitars and moaning wordless vocals, suspended in a massive expanse of black ambience and mysterious shimmer, which gives way to a loooong slow drone, with a strange Velvets-y melody buried way down under the surface, more creepy almost choral vocals, a super amorphous abstract drift, haunting and otherworldly.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Another killer slab of tripped out dreaminess from this LA dirge / drone / avant / psychedelic trio, which of course features Not Not Fun head honcho Britt Brown, the three piece weaving lush smoldering psychscapes that drift and shimmer and remind us quite a bit of SF duo Barn Owl at times. The A side here is a 22 minute sprawl of haunting guitarbuzz ambience, that sounds a bit like a more Technicolor Barn Owl, trading some of that dark broodiness for shimmering soaring high end glimmer, and some of the twang for droned out chordal shimmer, infusing some space-y kraut-y new age into the proceedings, the result is a fairly fantastic stretch sun baked psych, but that's just the first 8 or 9 minutes. All of that buzz and swirl and soar is peeled back leaving a minimal dirgey creep, all detuned piano, murky ambience, almost surfy guitar twang, electronic buzz, like some sort of bastardized slo-mo Morricone, and then the vocals, a dizzying swirl of heavily effected crooning, the spare sound gathering momentum, the guitars swooping in again, adding buzz and rumble, building to a sort of final climax before the inevitable fade out.
The flipside starts with more psychedelic shimmer, mutated voices drifting in shimmering fields of soft noise, before blossoming into a sort of noise drenched gothic gloom pop, a lumbering minor key creep, that sounds almost witch house-y, before switching gears once again, and transforming into what sounds almost like a Robedoor take on classic rock, which is essentially a sort of warped and warble Neil Young mixed with No Neck Blues band, before finally slipping into an awesomely ominous low slung bass heavy dirge, buzzy and a little bit creepy, laced with spidery melodies, and deep bellowed, reverbed new wave vocals, soft swaths of melodic swirl, loads of effects, a sort of dirgey doom pop ballad, that again sounds fantastically twisted and warped.
LIMITED TO 600 COPIES.
In our ongoing obsession with all things Robedoor, here's yet another awesome chunk of blissed out drone-noise, teamed up with their perfect sonic foils, AQ faves the Yellow Swans. Both bands dial down the brutality and intensity, offering up two gorgeous tracks of shimmering, buzzing ambience, each with their own vibe, and one still a bit brutal and intense.�
Robedoor are up first, and this is just about the loveliest thing we've heard from these guys. All gliding glimmer, warm effulgent swells of sound, distant moaning cellos that just sort of melt all over the top of the guitar, gorgeous and tranquil, a blissy drift through billowing clouds of soft focus blur, distorted and buzzy, but smeared into one slow burning easy on the ears whir.�
Yellow Swans counter with their own version of 'tranquil' and as you might imagine it's a bit different than RD's. Noisier and heavier, more fuzzed out and harsh, but no less lovely. A whirling wash of thick gritty grime, muted grinding rhythms, industrial whir, buzzing and rumbling. The whole thing thick and crumbling and corrosive, but still so pretty!
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES, each one hand numbered.�
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Dark, fucked, "rock" music from the duo of Robert Johnson and Todd Ritmann (guitarist for US Maple), who, according to Agog's press-sheet is not only "an intense rhythm technician on Drum Kit" but is also "controlling a *minimum* of 4 electric guitars/bass"! This, their second album, is a limited, 180 gram vinyl-only release in a handsome gatefold sleeve. NO cds on this one. Fans of US Maple, Storm & Stress, Iran, and similar counter-intuitive skreerock outfits should investigate seriously! German import (and it says right here on the sleeve: "U.S. State Department regulations prohibit this recording from being played in the U.S. or U.S. territories." C'mon, be a rebel!).
This is the second solo outing from Sir Alasdair of Appendix Out-ville. One dozen stark, achingly heartfelt folk songs.
Alasdair Roberts' third solo album comes brimming with his moving renditions of eight traditional Scottish folk songs and sea shanties -- sounding not unlike a kindly Scotsman counterpart to English lass Shirley Collins. On No Earthly Man, the captain of the neo-folk band Appendix Out has certainly immersed himself even deeper into the musical heritage of his homeland. In the past we've commented about the uncanny resemblance between Roberts' voice and Will Oldham's, but this time it's much less so, as the nature of the material draws so much more of the Scottish lilt from his lips.
Another timeless folk beauty from Alasdair Roberts! Each of his albums is like a vivid trek across the country's Highlands and Lowlands - the mist of the ocean, the lush soft green and gold of the mosses and ferns, serene limpid lakes, the rugged mountain outcroppings. Spoils definitely carries on in that tradition Seriously though, if true British Isles folk is your bag, you really can't miss with any one of his full lengths! Roberts' lyrical tales are at once starkly intimate and cryptically poetic. Lilting, pure and indelibly Scottish!
On The Amber Gatherers, Scotsman Alasdair Roberts sounds much less like a (not so distant) cousin of Will Oldham and much more like one whose been taken under the wing of Sybille Baier or Vashti Bunyan. The renaissance folk found on this his fourth full length both lyrically and instrumentally conveys much more of a period piece evoking a time long past than his previous works. Songs such as "Let Me Lie And Bleed A While" and "I Had A Kiss Of The King's Hand" conjured visions of fair maidens and jesters in courtyards, armored knights on horseback or dapper fellows taking their paces in a gentlemen's duel. Enchanting and picturesque.
The leader of the Scottish group Appendix Out releases a solo record at around the same time a new (wonderful) Appendix Out record arrives. I know I am constantly referring to Palace Bros' Will Oldham when speaking of Appendix Out, but really it's unavoidable
Geez! Barely had we a chance to digest his last full length from earlier this year than Alasdair Roberts bestows another four tuneful tunes. He can't be stopped, and who'd want him to? Allow your ears within the gorgeous warming embrace of picked'n'plucked acoustic guitar, woozy droning harmonium and forlorn voice. On the surface, his Scottish folk numbers sound utterly traditional and slightly mystical, but delve a bit deeper and listen a bit longer and plenty of modern day sensibilities, details and instrumentation make their presence felt. Mind you, it's in the most tasteful and unassuming fashion. One thing though, the third track "The Royal Road At The World's End" is a bit of an oddity in this grouping, as well as in Roberts' body of work as a whole. It's unexpectedly energetic and fleshed out with a full band. It's a bit of a jolt, but dandy nevertheless. If you've never heard him, this is a fine place to start. Wyrd Meme truly is a wonderful standalone work, but it also makes a tasty appetizer for any and all of his previous full lengths. For the most part, hauntingly lovely!
Beloved Scottish troubadour Alasdair Roberts teams up with fiddle playing English lass Jackie Oates for these four tunes - three instrumentals and one with vocals - all with a reverential nod towards British and Scottish folk traditions. The interplay between Roberts' deftly fingerpicked guitar and Oates' fiddle is light, graceful and utterly at ease. The rather coldly clinical title of this record really doesn't do the sprightly passionate music justice. Sure to please Roberts' followers and offers Oates a fine introduction to those on this side of the pond! We only got 3 copies btw...
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
New Zealander Dean Roberts made quite a name for himself with a handful of freeform Sonic Youth-esque albums in Thela and White-Winged Moth. Yet, he has shifted to the powerbook as his instrument of choice, turning guitars, piano, and viola into delicate crackling flows. Working with New York percussionist Tim Barnes, Roberts has created a fine album of eletro-acoustic abstraction not far from Fennesz or Oval. There's also a cover of Brian Eno's "Cindy Tells Me."
Dean Roberts, he's one of those 'regular name' guys, y'know, like David Grubbs, Alan Licht, Jim O'Rourke... Like them, his output is eclectic, you might hear him singing a song or doing out-guitar drone, as in his old band Thela. Experimental, electro-acoustic indie-rock I guess is his genre? Anyway, he's usually doing something cool, and this disc is no exception. Although Roberts hails from New Zealand (which always seems to be a good thing!), this was recorded in Italy, with several of his Italian friends joining on guitars and drums, while Roberts played acoustic and electric guitars, piano, bass, harmonium, glass harmonica and percussion. His hushed vocals are also present, but these tracks are soft and slow and sad and more about sound than songcraft. Be Mine Tonight is good driving through the woods at night music -- I know 'cause I did just that this past weekend on the way up to Mendocino. This low-key album is really less likely to spark a mood than it is to perhaps simply capture *your* mood, if listened to at the right time (like, driving through the woods in darkness). Roberts and his comrades 'rock out' for brief moments, but overall it's got a sleepy, fragile feel. Editing and processing are key to these results, along with the performances, with this having some of the same live-instruments-meet-glitchy-drone vibes as Roberts' amazing (and sadly out of print) Ritornelle release And The Black Moths Play The Grand Cinema from a few years back. Quite nice.
Indie / psychedelic / alternative, we're told.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
