Uh, ok, AMT-heads, bewarned, this is expensive. REALLY freaking expensive. We're not sure why, I mean, it's imported from France (though, it's not like it's made out of wine), and there's eight sides of vinyl here, and it looks great and all, but $73? Then again, try buying this on eBay a few years hence. And, Univers Zen Ou De Zero A Zero is, by our reckoning and others, one of Kawabata & Co.'s best albums. Furthermore, this deluxe vinyl edition comes with a whole additional LP's worth of live (in Europe 2002) material, previously unreleased. We've got three in stock. You do the math and make your purchasing decisions accordingly. And in case you need it, here's our review of the cd version:
France's Fractal label gets into the Acid Mothers Temple game with this eagerly-awaited new album (we're told it's only their sixth studio effort, though we didn't actually count 'em ourselves). Univers Zen Ou De Zero A Zero starts off with some over the top heavy psych wankery (entitled "Electric Love Machine") that might be leftover from their Electric Heavyland sessions, but as with most AMT releases, you never know what's coming next! Track two marks a shift into more mellow pastures, as Cotton Casino's dreamy voice, acoustic instruments, and gentle synth washes make for a nice interlude, before some seriously droned-out howl comes in on the very next track ("Blues Pour Bible Noire") to hammer you for 20 or so minutes. Later in the disc there's another epic 20+ minute track of medieval psych ("Soleil de Cristal et Lune d'Argent") with Cotton singing/chanting over some lovely Amon Duulish drone rock, worth the price of admission alone. We've really got to admit, that despite their prolific output, Kawabata & Co. rarely disappoint, and this is yet another quite good Acid Mothers Temple release!
Note for serious AMT otaku: there's an unlisted bonus track that we think is the first studio version of their crazy vocal bit "God Bless Acid Mothers Temple", while the disc's very first track features a guest solo from Hiroshi Narazaki (former guitarist of Japanese '70s psych legends Les Rallizes D�nud�s).
This first release from local black metal horde Artificium Sanguine was a pleasant surprise. Well, as pleasant as a spiked gauntlet to the gut can be. We were a little skeptical with such a joke-y title, after all, how grim could it be? Well, pretty grim actually. Very lo-fi, and buzzy and hyper blown out, this recording manages to capture the fury and majesty we've witnessed Artificium Sanguis struggle to exude live. Which isn't surprising, since black metal has never really existed as a live experience anyway. It's all about the home recorded misanthropy, spread by word of mouth, cd-r and tape trading, and Ye Olde Demo Taype (I chuckle/cringe even typing it) follows in well worn frosty footprints. While not quite as fucked up and dementedly genius as San Franciso black metal legends Weakling or any of the local scene's current one man bands (Leviathan, Crebain, Draugar, etc.), this is pretty fierce and dark, channelling the spirt of Bathory and Celtic Frost through classic Norwegian black metal and into something properly head banging and soul crushing.
Second Ashtray Navigations disc in two weeks! This time, it comes courtesy of our pal Glenn (Blithe Suns, Ivytree, Jewelled Antler, etc.) and his Pink Skulls cd-r label. Originally begun to release stuff that was too weird / out there or just too different from the Jewelled Antler aesthetic, Pink Skulls seems to be getting a little closer to its big brother label with this release, as this new Ashtray Navigations wouldn't be all that out of place on JA. A sweet dreamy three-part mini epic. Part one is a long meditative simple high end drone, keening and warbling, up and down in a simple two note melody. Parts two and three are brief addendums, one a series of rumbling low end swells, chirping crickets, and detuned guitars, the other a sort of echo of the first, with distorted lilting melodies over a wash of Skullflower style high-end scree. So nice.
Drone Records has a pretty good track record introducing unknown artists in their ongoing series of 7" singles that sonically embody the label's name. C.D. is the work of Christian Dergarabedian, who had spent some time working with the conceptually invigorating omni-Dada rock ensemble Reynols when he lived in Buenos Aires. Now residing in Barcelona, Dergarabendian reflects the drone facets of Reynols with six interwoven tracks of lovely distorto-feedback waves that decompose into irridescent digital twitches. The noisier stuff by Drone Records hosts Troum is clearly a reference. A very nice entry from the ever exceptional Drone Records series. Limited to 300 copies, with the first editions pressed on red vinyl. We have VERY FEW of these! Don't dawdle.
The sound of whistling winds greet us as Continuous Peasant's debut cd gets rolling. You can almost envision this SF sextet strolling into a ghost town, mainman Chris Stroffolino sitting himself down at the piano of an ol' dusty tavern, downin' an ample shot of bourbon or two and bashin' out a tune. From there the sound melts into more emotive, country-tinged college rock territory (think: a cross between Pavement and the Lemonheads). In turns rousing, wry and melancholic, Continuous Peasant shine brightest when the keyboards are pushed to centerstage. Note: the track listing shows eleven songs -- and we hate to blow the surprise -- but you really should know to keep that cd player going 'cause there's a hidden twelveth song that's one of the album's highlights. But y'know, don't just take our word on this album's goodness, AQ customer Steve Carll took quite a shine to it also and had this to say:
First off, I love this band's name, evoking both the "continuous present" narrative strategy and the "still fuckin' peasants" line from John Lennon's "Working Class Hero". Appropriate enough, as singer/keyboardist/songwriter Chris Stroffolino's perhaps better known in indie poetry circles (several books published, etc) than he is in indie rock circles (played keyboards for the Silver Jews).
The band's sound? How's this grab you -- Richard Hell singing Leonard Cohen/Beck collaborations with Nick Cave on piano? OK, it's not exactly like that, but it'll do as a provisional mental picture. As the album opens, the guitar and piano jam with the rain; then the piano takes over with a rhythm that takes some time to lock into your mind, but once it does, you realize it was there all along. There's some pleasant lopey, mopey country rock (the record's named after a Stones album from '72, after all) with occasional harmonies by guest Vanessa Beggs to sweeten Stroffolino's often acidic lyrics. There's also some faster stuff where the guitar is more prominent, whipping old-school New York punk rock songs into a froth.
A band with a poet singing lead is in danger of sinking under the weight of the lyrics, but Continuous Peasant manages to hold its own. The arrangements are simple, but with lots of nice subtle touches. The lyrics employ a lot of repetition, the melodies are barely perceptible, and there's hardly a chorus to be found. Somehow, everything hangs together remarkably well. The rawness of the recording generally gives it a directness that's engaging, marred by an occasional rushed vocal.
Thematically the album refers back not only to Exile on Main Street, but also, in its frequent allusions to sexual politics, to Liz Phair's 1993 release Exile in Guyville. Where Phair laments a culture of male insensitivity that wants to fuck and run, Stroffolino looks around ten years later and sees a culture where it seems as if that cycle has encompassed everyone, discouraging us all from opening up and showing vulnerability: "Always the same if you're not really naked" is the new lament.
There's more to say about the lyrics, which grow on you after a few listens through the album, but I may already have said too much for some: this is music as much as it is poetry. The big question, then, could be: will the next album from Continuous Peasant be its Whip-Smart, or its Goat's Head Soup? It seems reasonable to look for a different return altogether from this year's Exile.
French improvisers Eric Cordier and Jean-Luc Guionnet have a long history of collaborating together: several exceptional "live electro-acoustic" albums as Afflux with Eric La Casa, continued work in the free noise collective Schams, and several duets involving baffling sound installations. Now comes Tore, an album pieced together from several recording sessions in two different churches, where Cordier and Guionnet performed on hurdy gurdy, church organ, flute, and saxophone. For the majority of the album, Cordier and Guionnet give precedence to the drone, whose twisting tonalities and abrasions share Tony Conrad's physical play between dissonance and harmony. Yet as the album progresses, the balance begins to sway toward their free jazz aesthetic, as clusters of random notes begin to push outward, tearing the fabric of the drone from within. At these moments, Cordier and Guionnet wander into Keiji Haino territory, where sound is just as physically dominant as in Conrad's anti-Pythagorian minimalism but focuses specifically on the immediate chanelling of an emotional urgency. Coincidentally, it was Cordier who introduced Keiji Haino to the hurdy gurdy back in the early '90s! By the end of the record, the two have erupted into an inflamed free jazz dynamism driven by Guionnet's sax. This may be too much for most droneheads, but may be perfect for those who crave the taste of saxophone with their eternal minimalism will like it.
You know how we hate to pull the "buy now or cry later" guns on you all, but this one's definitely in that realm. So all you fellow Court And Spark fans out there, no dilly dallying on this one. Unless you had a chance to see them on their recent tour, you wouldn't have had a chance to pick this one up. Double Roses is a tour EP the band put together of home recordings (really *nice* recordings we might add, not your typical crappy home studio fare), originals and covers and some tracks recorded live around town and on the radio in Portland. A little more of that Court And Spark smoke and smolder, torch and twang to hold us over until their next full length to be entitled Witch Season. This band just keeps getting better. Lush country folk, amazing arrangements, perfect players, and MC Taylor's gorgeous rough hewn drawl. We'll never understand why this band isn't HUGE. But it's only a matter of time.
Gorgeous, numbered (limited to 400 copies), silkscreened/letterpressed sleeves.
Yet another review courtesy of former Outpunk label head, current A.C.R.O.N.Y.M. label mastermind, gay gangsta and AQ pal Matt Wobensmith:
It's the gayest hip hop album of all time! And when we say the gayest, we mean it in only the best way, of course. Not a novelty record, but a genuinely filthy -- yet sincere and highly addictive -- commercial hip hop album a la Missy/Timba, or maybe even Lil' Kim. Can people even handle that? Johnny is a precocious and foul mouthed dude, spitting nasty and controversial rhymes over hot, funked out 303s and club jams, including a tribute to Sheila E ("Sugar Daddy") and a posse cut over Digable Planet's "Rebirth of Slick". Best track could be "Crack Hit" -- a raunchy duet with LA homo horrorcore rapper Deadlee (album due out soon on A.C.R.O.N.Y.M.)... worth the price alone if just for the best line ever in the track "Crack Hit" -- "you thought I was talking about drugs? My ass IS a drug!" If there was any justice, people like Johnny Dangerous would be all over the airwaves, spreading hilarious fun and gay sex over the overblown Eminems and DMXs and 50 Cents of the planet.
Another transmission from the Dead Raven Choir, the work of a Polish ex-patriate Texan who calls himself Smolken. Followers will understand when we say that this falls into the sparse, dramatic folk half of his ouvre, rather than on the black metal noise folk side of things. Whispered, accented vox deliver the poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke, Hilaire Beloc, Charles Baudelaire, A.A. Milne and others over doleful strings and abstractly strummed guitar. Smolken seems to be a creepy, well-read Eastern-European version of Jandek, and he's a master of atmosphere, going totally over the top with minimal means. Every note played, and every hiss between notes, turns the blood colder. If an album could sound cursed, this is it.
Fans will of course pick this up, but if you haven't yet delved into Smolken's haunted sound-world, perhaps this is the one to try. For one thing, it's the man's first 'proper' cd after many cd-rs and tapes. And one of his best album titles too! The clincher, perhaps, is that aside from Smolken himself, the only other musician to appear on this recording is our friend, Jewelled Antler stalwart Glenn Donaldson (Thuja, Blithe Sons, Birdtree, Skygreen Leopards, etc.). Ever since, he's had a hollow look in his eyes and his beard seems paler and wispier... Or so we imagine.
We knew they still had it in them, and Transatlanticism prooves it. After a two year recording hiatus (not including the b-sides / demos release You Can Play These Songs With Chords) while singer Benjamin Gibbard stretched his wings with Dntel's Jimmy Tamborello in their Postal Service project, Death Cab For Cutie returns with a full length that not only does not disappoint, but possibly even surpasses their excellent sophmore effort We Have the Facts... album of three years ago. While they will probably always be compared to Built To Spill (circa Perfect From Now On or even Keep It Like A Secret) Gibbard et al. have undoubtably come into their own. Along with all the great hooks and beautiful melodies we've come to expect from Death Cab, the group has gotten progressively more crafty with their sound, utilizing electronic elements (never overshadowing the songs themselves) and, though it may not seem like much, piano. The latter is really something that suits their sound well. DCFC always have had this nack for pensive and heart rending melodies and there's really nothing better to sink them into your skin than some rich, full chords on a piano. Though it's used sparingly here, they could risk bringing it out more on further recordings, IMHO. The album's title track is a perfect example. The song's epic 8 minute length, beginning with a slow repeated chord progression on the ivories, builds steadily, sucking you into its world and leaving you feeling lonely in its absense when the final chords drift off into oblivion. So so nice.
We've reviewed a bunch of fine DVD releases over these last few lists, but out of 'em all, my pick for the raddest has gotta be this Devo DVD. Of course, they're probably in my (Allan's) top five bands of all time list, so I'm somewhat biased already.
Lots of Devo fans may have seen much of this already on video tape or even laserdisc (there's several clips included here of the Devo boys explaining the virtues of the futuristic laserdisc format) but now you can see that stuff again, and more besides, on this DVD. You get the original Kent State post-graduate student film In The Beginning Was The End: The Truth About De-Evolution, that started it all and introduced the world to such characters as Booji Boy and General Boy and some mighty odd and awesome pop tuneage. Then there's pretty much all of Devo's pioneering, wigged-out music videos, from Come Back Jonee and Satisfaction through Whip It and Girl U Want to Through Being Cool, Love Without Anger, and Peek-A-Boo. And more. All amazing, fairly low-budget (rubber masks galore), and completely cracked. A couple of the songs from the tail end of their recording career aren't so hot but that's a small fraction of the mostly-genius-stuff on here. Then there's the special features, which include an historic b&w video clip from the first ever Devo gig (1972!), a bonus video (Bruce Connor's Mongoloid), an interview with Devo video collaborator/instigator Chuck Statler, still photo galleries of Devo memorabilia that are so extensive you have to watch 'em in slow motion, and -- perhaps best of all -- a bonus audio commentary track for the majority of the disc done by chief Devo spuds Gerald V. Casale and Mark Mothersbaugh! That alone makes this pretty much essential to all true Devo fans, even if you already have the original stuff on video cassette. Hours of de-evolved fascination and fun await, an incredible dose of Devo philosophy, history, music and visuals.
Let's get one thing straight, the Dishes are three gals and one guy from Chicago who'll end their trashy rock'n'roll songs when they damn well feel like it, thank you very much! As you might've guessed from the title, this is their third album and it all kicks off with the nine and a half minute "Something To Tell You" which howls with guitar feedback and barrels along relentlessly for really quite some time after the vocals stop telling you... uh, something. They're no doubt pretty rad live, but in lieu of having them trash your basement, the File 13 label have kindly captured their energy well on record. While they're certainly not doing anything you haven't heard before, they do sound like a good sweaty time! If brash garage rawk loaded with sneering female vocals and super crunchy guitars is your thing, don't miss The Dishes live or on record.
It's almost enough for us just to say "new on Moonfog", isn't it? That label, run by Satyr of Satyricon, has definitely become synonymous with quality Norwegian black metal, bringing us both experimental stuff like Dodheimsgard/DHG and the current work of pioneers Darkthrone, with the likes of Thorns and Satyricon themselves bridging the old and new schools. So any new release on Moonfog is certainly worthy of our -- and your -- attention. Disiplin don't fail to meet our expectations. Fierce and raging yet, well, disciplined, Disiplin play black metal heavily infused with the energy and chops of thrash and death metal. Classy and kick-ass. But with just enough strange ambient/industrial/folky weirdness to keep things interesting. This is the band's first release, with guitarist/bassist "General K" having served time in Myrkskog. Guests include ex-Emperors Bard Faust and Zamoth. Folks in desperate need of a Satyricon fix will find everything they've been hankering for on Disiplin's crushing debut.
I (Allan) initially picked up this disc 'cause I thought that Luke Eargoggle was responsible for one of my favorite tracks on Powerslaves (the electro Iron Maiden covers cd we made record of the week not too long ago): "Die With Your Boots On". I was mistaken, that song was actually performed by Maxx Klaxxon, whereas Mr. Eargoggle did a version of "Mother Russia" (not one of my fave Maiden tunes, but his electro version wasn't bad). Anyway, as it turns out I'm real glad I took a chance on this album, 'cause it turned out to be quite the jam -- so I figured I'd order a few for the store as well. Chock full of fat crunchy beats and squelchy bass lines, it's a great example of what I like about the purposefully '80s retro genre of electro, unlike a lot of other types of techno/dance music: simply put, it's funky. One of the best tracks on here is entitled "Stiff White Funk" and while no one will argue with that self-assessment, the funk is still the funk, stiff and white it may be. Actually, that particular track is awesome simply 'cause of how nervously hectic it is. It's a minefield of distorted synth explosions and sci-fi-noir fx. Very cool, along with the rest of Audio Warriors.
Following up their self-titled debut ep from last year, Electric Turn To Me deliver not a full length, but a second ep. Rising up from the ashes of AQ faves Laddio Bolocko, ETTM is the new band led by LB's Blake Fleming (drums) and Marcus Degrazia (organs, keyboards, saxophone, flute). Their mysterious German vocalist known only as Silke once again lends her tormented dramatic vocal stylings to each of the five red wine drenched songs. Last time around her singing received a rather icy AQ reception -- it does seem to be an acquired taste -- but on these newer songs she's honed her handwringing theatrics somewhat so that her vocals rather than being a distraction are more integrated in the band's scalding darkwave-postpunk sound. Both she and fourth member James Wilk provide the snaking guitars that flesh out the proceedings. Clouds Move So Fast is an unsettling, propulsive meeting at the fork in the road where the paths lead off to sinister carnival and intoxicating cabaret.
A paranoiac aesthetic runs through the work of Emerge, a new dark ambient project from Germany discovered by Drone Records. Emerge's short psychodrama appears to be set within a bunker being heavily bombarded during a late-night bombing campaign. Distant shockwaves resonate through concrete walls, mechanical giants rumble overhead, megaphone voices bark orders many miles away, and an uneasy atmosphere settles upon the grim proceedings in that tightly enclosed space. Limited to 300 copies with each cover burned with cigarettes and the vinyl pressed on flamboyant yellow and black vinyl. Very limited so act fast.
Such a lullaby of an album! Ultra barebones... this British duo often craft their songs of just the same two or three notes plucked over and over ever so gently on a guitar while the sweetest, softest female vocals whisper-sing dreamily and a hushed organ-y drone drifts in and out. Lovely, fragile and haunting.
Here's one of those few instances in which I would have to scold Drone Records for their adamant adherence to releasing this sort of music on 7"s. The debut recording of Entrelacs -- a collaborative effort between dronologist Michael Northamï and field recordist Yannick Dauby -- is too good for just a 7". The parallel between Entrelacs and Organum are so profound as to bring back to me all of my frustration with Organum's insistence upon releasing just 3 minutes of the most sublime chorales of screeching metals when those sounds want to extend toward infinity like LaMonte Young or Phil Niblock. Entrelacs presents a similarly dynamic sound, that is so perfectly self-contained with its timbral massings from long-stringed instruments and clamorous details of various rocks and leaves. Perhaps no media can really contain these sounds, and I would be making a similar critique even if this were released on CD. This highly recommended single is limited to 300 copies, with this first edition pressed on clear vinyl. VERY FEW OF THESE IN STOCK!!
This is an awesome slab of seventies fuzz guitar rock and roll. Lots of crunchy riffs, but also wailing lead guitar, and sort of jazzy Santana-ish breakdowns. Think Blue Cheer, Toad, Bang or Buffalo. If those names mean anything to you you're gonna need this. Greatest Hits starts out with the truly monstrous track, "It Swallowed The Sun", which begins like a Black Sabbath track, huge peals of thunder, ominous minor key fingerpicked guitars between crashing distorted chords. The rest of the record is not nearly so heavy, with lots of acoustic-y Led Zeppelin 3 moments amidst all the fuzzy wailing. But pretty fucking great. Plus, one of the best cover photos ever, with the band wearing togas, mic stands in trash cans, playing amidst clouds of smoke. So awesome!
To make this album, Los Angeles 'lowercase' artist J Frede tagged along with professional piano tuner David Nereson during one his jobs and recorded part of the session. Frede then took those recordings back to the studio, running them through what appears to be several Max/MSP patches to arrive at a series of digitized sketches. As a polite gesture to Nereson's trade, Unprepared Piano begins with an unprocessed recording of the piano tuning, which sounds exactly like one would expect: a methodical plinking of the clustered notes that gradually come into key, marked by periodic creaks and hammerings upon the piano's inner workings. Quite honestly, these are not all that interesting; but once Frede gets going with all of his effects, the album really takes a turn for the better. Often working from a single sample culled from those recordings, Frede's compositions work best with a modest amount of processing as heard in the ominous plod of "Low Pres Non" with its simple demonstrations of pitchshifting and timestretching, and the thick sonic decay of haunted drones from "Un Pre N." Frede's Unprepared Piano resembles much of the same ideas that Akira Rabelais brought to his exceptional album Eisoptrophobia of digitally aerosolized piano pieces by Satie and Bartok. Where Rabelais sought a surreal version of dreamy romance, Frede imparts a far more sinister shadow upon his recordings.
Handpackaged in a fragile brown envelope and wrapped in string.
This is a collection of two of John Barry's most unlikely scores. The first is for Bruce Lee's Game of Death. You know, the one were he takes on Chuck Norris. Probably best known as the movie that was shelved when Bruce Lee died. Finally released with a new star, they kept a handful of the original scenes with Lee as a selling point for a then otherwise unsellable movie. The music is classic Barry, alternately soaring and triumphant, tense and suspenseful. Also features an awesome 6 minute track called 'Stick Fight' which is just that, 6 minutes of fight sounds complete with Lee's legendary vocalisations! Good stuff. The second film, Night Games is even stranger. A "sex fantasy" that was apparently a massive flop. Barry's tracks are treacly and bittersweet, with occasional jaunty strings and choral passages. Nice stuff as well. Definitely makes me want to see Game Of Death again, but also I'm now dying to see Night Games!
Okay, I know that the general consensus from people seems to be that the Mulatu Astatke disc (Ethiopiques #4) is the best in the Ethiopiques series. And yeah, it's a great disc. But to really experience the zenith of Ethiopian popular music from the golden era you really gotta have the vocals. The workouts these singers put their vocal chords through are as unbelievable as they are beautiful. Case in point is Tlahoun Gessesse. And we are thankfully blessed with a full CD of his passionately yodelled Ethiopian funk groove. Gesesse was the most popular Ethiopian singer of the times -- bigger than Mahmoud Ahmed, Alemayehu Eshete or any other singers. So great was his vocal stature that he was dubbed "The Voice". Pretty much says it all. And well applied the title is; his vocal control is insane, wavering vibrato all over the place and melisma stacked upon melisma. To boot he's backed by the best in the business: the Body Guard Band, All Star Band, Exhibition Band and Army Band. The usual arrangements of guitar, bass, drums, percussion, horns, piano and incredibly strange organs play the most haunting accompaniment to Gessesse's impassioned vocals. And for what its worth, several of the tracks here were even arranged by Mulatu Astatke. Though Gessesse's career dates back to the fifties, the recordings included here are all from the early seventies. Included is a 30 page booklet with biographical notes, photos (including a two page spread of 45 jackets) and lyrics. This one comes highly recommended!
Man, people have been dying for this, the first official release from Jean Grae, who has had the hip hop underground in a tizzy, popping up all over the place, stealing the show on other folks' songs and comps. This ep is short, especially for such a hotly anticipated debut, but it's made up for with a 45 minute bonus track megamix of unreleased cuts and freestyles. Grae has a wicked flow and a sharp tongue, spitting vitriol in all directions, sparing nobody. The beats and loops are spare and old school, but the flow is anything but. Check out the aptly titled Hater's Anthem to understand just how pissed, and how good, Grae really is. Guest spot by now defunct AQ faves Cannibal Ox.
Paul Westerberg has churned out another basement-recorded straightforward country blues rock album under his cranky, despairing alter ego Grandpaboy (fyi: the first was called Mono and came as a secret bonus disc in Westerberg's Stereo album). Of the fourteen songs that make up Dead Man Shake, the ten originals which jump from rawkin' boot stompers to slow cryin' in your beer tales and back again fare much better than the four covers which seemed to have been kicked out on a ragged drunken whim. He tackles John Prine's "Souvenirs", Jimmy Reed's "Take Out Some Insurance", Hank Williams' "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry", and Anthony Newley's "What Kind Of Fool Am I". The latter two in particular might cause your ears some degree of discomfort. On the other hand, higher notes are hit on songs such as "Vampires And Failures". Fans of Westerberg will surely want to check this out, others might wanna sidestep this gritty, umkempt affair for the time being in favor of other more uh, stable Westerberg releases.
>>Sorry to say we won't physically have these until Monday or Tuesday. But go ahead and order it now!<<
After a stunning release on our own Andee's tUMULt label a few years back, the UK's finest noise-skree-experimental rock duo, Guapo return as a trio (!) and with a brand new album that...[review pauses here while Andee wildly air drums along with Guapo's one man octopoidal percussionist Dave Smith, although I suppose it's not technically air drumming if Andee's in fact hitting Allan in lieu of actual drums, but we digress...]
While their last full length Great Sage, Equal Of Heaven was a frenetic Ruins-esque, bass and drums (and sometimes sax) workout, Five Suns takes the obvious instrumental prowess and prog potential present on the first record, and turns Guapo into the only modern prog combo that could possibly threaten Christian Vander's Magma throne. Hyperbole? Hardly. The centerpiece of Five Suns is the five part, 46 minute title track. So gorgeously grand, so compositionally daunting, so fucking good, words fail us. The addition of a full time keyboardist, as well as the introduction of guitars, has helped Guapo's skeletal prog jams flower into expansive instrumental epics. The record begins with a huge swell, a swirling squall of wild drumming and thick instrumental chaos, that glitches out as if the stereo is malfunctioning, before setting you down gently, ready to embark on a daunting but inspiring musical journey. Droning ambience and repetitive hypnotic rhythms give way to ultra complex, ultra precise riffery. Melodies are subtle but infectious, slowling unfolding over the course of ten, sometimes twenty minutes. Minor key thrum underpins careening hyper complex arrangements, tense and intense, hypnotic and just breathtaking in its scope. The Ruins is still a definite reference, but all sort of other influences inform Guapo's unique take on prog, the cyclical hypno-rock of Circle (and beyond that the rhythmic propulsive psych/drone of classic Krautrock), the blissed out skree of Skullflower and Sunroof! as well as post rock, free folk, metal and all sorts of other disparate sounds. All woven smoothly and uniquely into a cohesive whole. A fifty minute track, even in the best hands, can veer into overindulgence and pointless jammery, but every second of Five Suns is perfectly placed, and perfectly played -- but without losing its organic, free feel. The two extra tracks are separated from the vast "Five Suns" by a minute long track of silence to clear your aural palate, and prepare you for two shorter bursts of rhythmic, hypnotic, droning modern prog. Originally the Five Suns album was going to be just that, the 46 minute title track, and we were a little disappointed to learn that extra 'short' tracks were being added to make the record more, ahem, radio friendly. But now listening to it as a whole, it seems like it couldn't have been any other way. The two final tracks let us slowly unwind from the dizzying sonic journey that came before. This record is fucking massive. If there was any sort of justice in the world, Guapo would be spoken of in the hushed tones reserved for bands like Magma or King Crimson. As far as we're concerned, starting right now, they will be.
With a title that roughly translates as "Light Darkness Melting Into One This Vibration", this new Keiji Haino solo release sees our favorite black-clad psychedelic improv minstrel exploring the playing of a simple ol' acoustic guitar. Shockingly, it's all instrumental. The lack of vocals is a bit atypical of Keiji, but the live, no-overdubs sound is not. The disc starts off very stark and repetitive, developing into something slightly jazzy sounding, jazzy like Derek Bailey that is. Keiji's stopping, starting style here may grate -- not for casual Keiji fans, wethinks. If you've ever heard Dead Raven Choir's 'folk' recordings, this sounds totally like DRC without the vocals. Hmm...a Keiji Haino/Smolken duet would be quite something...
Now, we might wanna recommend right here and now that you not be mislead by the cover and title of this cd which sort of suggested (to us at least) something akin to a Southern Culture On The Skids style hootenanny. Not so! Although we wouldn't doubt that this gent can kick up some dust on his own. Instead, how 'bout some southern Americana twang from right here in SF? Sean Hayes is the man slinging this fine Alabama Chicken, and he's joined by a luminous group of guest players. To name just a couple of them... AQ fave Jolie Holland plays her fiddle and sings on a couple of songs, and AQ dear friend Will Waghorn plays drums on a bunch of 'em too. Actually the title track is one that Holland and Waghorn both grace, and it's definitely a highlight. It's ever so solemn, haunting and perhaps the most fleshed out of the album's down home dozen with the aforementioned fiddle, as well as some ghostly musical saw, banjo, and marimba. The rest are more barebones and intimate, allowing individual instruments to linger and lope all by their lonesome. A bittersweet swoop of harmonica, some understated acoustic guitar, a handful of soft piano keys, a hushed brush-tap on a snare drum and high hat. Lovely! Hayes' softly ragged, mournful voice (Andee compared it to James Taylor) pairs so well with Holland's -- like kindred spirits -- it makes you yearn for more of their stirring duets. We'd venture to say that if you've been swooning to Ms. Holland and The Be Good Tanyas, you just might want to check this out too. Even if you haven't, please do! A moving, earnest and earthy album.
Imagine The Locust, if instead of being raised on a steady diet of grind and hardcore, they were only allowed to listen to Magma and Yes and E.L.P. Okay, and maybe a little Black Flag. Well, you might start to get a feeling for this oddly named combo. Horse The Band are a stumbling chaotic maelstrom of shouted vocals, off kilter rhythms, shards of angualr guitar, and totally fucked prog-tastic keyboards! So wild and fun and spastic and awesome! Definitely like Yes, if they were 15 year old hardcore kids, with beat up guitars, a casio, and all their be-patched backpacks piled up in a corner of the practice space. Drunk on Yoohoo and Redbull, doing their best to out prog, out spazz, and out ROCK all comers!
Be warned, the $21.00 price tag and the title of this disc "The Complete Recordings" might be a little misleading. The complete recordings of James Joyce actually total all of 12 minutes. "Eolian Episode" recorded in Paris in 1924, and "Anna Livia Plurabelle" (from Finnegans Wake) recorded in Cambridge in 1929. Both scratchy and antiquated, that sound we here at AQ love so much. Also included in this set is a huge book(let) containing an unpublished book by Eugene Jolas as well as an introduction written by Marc Dachy about the friendship between Jolas and Joyce. Haven't had a chance to delve too much into the book, but it looks really interesting, and helps justify the price. We have to admit to being a bit diappointed by the brevity of the disc, but fans of Joyce will obviously need this.
Within the condensed format of this 3" CD, Zbigniew Karkowski and Francisco Lopez get to the point very quickly. Eschewing his typical approach of incredibly slow building compositions, Lopez allows himself to be relatively active in his sound-collage. At a brief 10 minutes, "Untitled #132" ramps up through variable passages of processed white noise, some of which appear to be his cricket / locust field recordings while others might be the amplified electrical hum of a computer hard drive. Regardless of the source material, Lopez steadily brings the volume up on his bristling sounds, then cuts the power. He has set up multiple tracks of these ramp-up-to-drop-outs to fill the entire sonic spectrum. The final terminal snap is all the more unsettling only because Karkowski's power-violence is lurking around the corner. It's possible that both artists are applying the same source material to their signature sounds. While Lopez is a little bit more dynamic than usual, Karkowski follows his brash noise approach. Every sound is as loud as possible, as distorted as possible, as misanthropic as possible, and as ugly as possible. Note: limited quanity in stock, as we got 'em directly from Mr. Karkowski when he dropped by the store the other day, and we don't expect to get more.
The ever-reliable Hydrahead label does it again -- though we already knew Keelhaul were good. Their other two albums of especially complex, heavy metalcore got high marks 'round these parts, and we know they absolutely kick ass live. Now they confront us with Subject To Change Without Notice. That's the title, but the only thing that's changed is that they're maybe even better. Or maybe they're referring to their modus operandi of tricky riffing and quiet/loud dynamics. Largely instrumental, super heavy, very very tight -- this is metal done right. For fans of Converge, Coalesce, Neurosis, Helmet, Mastodon...and The Gooch (one of their typically silly song titles).
Still haven't seen the film -- Windy sez it's good though -- but we've had the soundtrack in stock for a little while and thought we'd go ahead and list it 'cause it's got some pretty great stuff on it. Basically, this isn't a full-blown score by some Hollywood film composer, but rather a Quentin Tarantino mix tape of sorts. And a rather eclectic, but well-programmed, mix tape indeed! There's everything from The RZA to Zamfir, from Nancy Sinatra to Neu! on here. Some of it was indeed written for the film (The RZA's cuts, including bonus kung-fu fight scene music and sound effects) while some of the tracks were taken from *other* films and TV sources (like Quincy Jones' Ironside theme). There's some surprising selections, including a ten-minute 1977 disco-funk version of "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" that's a great centerpiece to what's a very hip, well-informed compilation, demonstrating the good taste of Quentin Tarantino, or his music supervisor at least. (Quentin Tarantino -- good taste? What?) Anyway, this works fine as a stand-alone album, and no doubt will bring all sorts of visual, gory remembrances to those who've seen the Kill Bill flick itself.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
The day we first got this in stock, it was pouring rain -- appropriately enough, because playing this made it seem like it was raining in the store as well as outside, quite a lovely effect we thought. Truly, this is a stunningly beautiful concert/field recording, the culmination of a series of concerts held at (the very rainy) Koukiji temple in Japan. The concerts were organized by Yasushi Utsunomia -- whose claim to fame was as recording engineer for art rockers After Dinner. According to Utsunomia, his initial efforts were unsuccessful due in part to demanding and flaky performers (apparently all rock bands) and a crappy sound reinforcement system supplied by the temple. In the end, the first problem was solved by turning to traditional musicians and the second by constructing a sound reinforcement system worthy of such a space (a detailed diagram of the performance space and speaker locations is included on the back of the booklet's cover.) The performances heard here are on shakuhachi, ryuteki (both Japanese bamboo flutes), sitar and stone flute (played by the legendary shamanistic composer Akio Suzuki). All are accompanied by rain, from soft patter to heavy downpour. At times the rain is so loud it completely drowns out the soft playing of the instruments, essentially being an instrument itself -- and as a warning to those who would say otherwise, says Suzuki: "I'll tear out the ears of whoever says this is just rain." For its part, the electro-acoustic elements added via DSP and Utsunomia's custom built horn loaded speaker array are all but completely transparent for much of the concert. During Korei Deguchi's ryuteki performance is when the processing is most noticeable, with what sounds like the work of a harmonizer. Aside from that, the musicians' playing, the space, the rain and Utsunomia's equipment are seamlessly wedded and, if nothing else, you'll feel drenched by the time you finish listening. This numbered edition comes beautifully packaged with a nicely printed cover drawing (some thick rubbery ink that feels nice to pass ones fingers over) of a couple of cats performing for an audience of felines, and is hand-stamped on the inside. Also it includes a printed fold out with liner notes in Japanese and English. The whole thing -- package, idea, music -- is simply beautiful. Several of us here (Andee, Byram, Allan, at least) have already taken copies home...
Solem, folkish "spirituals" from a band about which we know just a few things: they're from Balitmore and include members of the very-different-sounding Oxes, and they spent some time last year on tour opening for Will Oldham, who was apparently taken by Long Live Death's "incantory" aspects. Their music is melancholic and stately, not quite of our world, though clearly with an indie-rock pedigree. A short little album (just over 25 minutes) of some power and grace. And, along with voices, cello, gongs, flute, bells, and violin there's musical saw on it, which is always a plus!
Okay, so he was "the English Phil Spector". Whew, got that out of the way. In fact he's arguably one of THE most innovative, albeit the most obscure, producers *ever* (other candidates being Spector, Brian Wilson, Lee Perry, other votes welcome!). Though famous first and foremost for his hit with the Tornados' "Telstar" (the first English pop song to hit #1 on the charts in the U.S.), this tone deaf wunderkind had a penchant for the very strange and esoteric as well. It's been said that the man turned down the opportunity to have a first stab at recording The Beatles and David Bowie while counseling an aspiring band to axe front man Rod Stewart if they wanted to work with him. Bad judgements or refined tastes? Given much of the work Meek chose to produce in their stead one might quickly point the finger in the direction of bad judgement, but Meek's visionary "I Hear A New World" suggests that the man had an altogether sublime inspiration that was far ahead of its time.
Fascination with what life could possibly exist on the moon was the seed which drove Joe Meek to compose what could be considered the first "rock" concept album. He wanted to "create a picture in music of what could be up there in outer space." Quite a task. A task that required Meek to use every producing trick in his bag (a very, very big bag.) Take the foundation of an instrumental band, in this case Meek's The Blue Men -- a sort of Venturesy, Shadowsy, Les Paulsy kind of thing -- then squash the hell out of the drums with compression, throw delay and reverb around like a death battle with King Tubby, and add a potpourri of unusual instruments including the Clavioline (a super primitive pre-synthesizer) a purposefully out of tune tack piano, the occasional double speed vocals and you can almost hear Joe's New World. Top this off with the fact that Joe was attempting to create a stereo recording working only with primitive two track machines (not a huge multi-track facility) in his two room apartment recording studio and you know the man had to be a mad genius. (Certifiably mad, if the murder of his landlady and his suicide are any indication.)
This fine new edition of this *absolute*must*hear* album includes, along with all the original tracks, a 35 minute monologue by Joe Meek recorded in 1962 in which Meek gives a brief autobiography leading up to his residing at 538 Holloway Road, describes his studio and its contents: microphones, recording decks, etc and talks about his work. Quite a unique document. Also included on the disc is a film clip of Joe Meek in his studio talking about the music industry (and though the makers of this CD claim that you can only play the film on a PC, it seems to work fine on both Mac and PC.) Plus you get a nice fold out poster with Meek's original notes for each song on I.H.A.N.W. and a thorough telling of the story behind the album.
Nope, Metal Urbain weren't a metal band, they were PUNK, way back when. This seminal '77 punk outfit were basically the French answer to the Sex Pistols. Only, with synths -- a la Suicide -- along with their guitars (no bass), and a customized Korg Minipops 120 keeping the beat. Their urgent tick-tock metronomic rhythms, distorted guitars n' synth effects, and shouted French vocals (with clever and shocking lyrics, we're told) still sound great 25 years on.
Metal Urbain are one of those bands whose legend has grown in inverse proportion to the availability of their recordings (kinda like last list's Record of the Week, the Homosexuals). Now, at long long last, all their crucial cuts are available again on this compact disc, so you can judge for yourself how rad Metal Urbain really were. With their noisy raw rockin' and avant-garde style, we'd say pretty rad indeed. Though their songs can't quite compete with the Pistols' classics, they match 'em in attitude and get mega bonus points for their use and abuse of electronics, which makes them ultra fashionable today. Really, what with today's electro-clash art-punk scene, this is the perfect time for Metal Urbain to emerge again. Chances are you're already a Metal Urbain fan without even knowing it... Punk history buffs will need/want this too (first record ever on Rough Trade!) but we think whether you "need" this or not, you'll probably like it.
The 24 tracks found here, a few of 'em previously unreleased, argue for this band's unique charm.
Who can resist such primitive drum machine action, sizzling synth blasts and whooshes, and sheer anarchistic punk energy? Of course they're brimming with punk snottiness (they're French after all). But their punk is tinged with proto-new wave (a few of the later tracks definitely veer in that direction) and psychedelic elements, drawing on the band's early influences from Eno, Fripp, the Velvets and Hawkwind! Though, despite the talk of "robocore", "spacepunk" and "terrorbeat" in the (lengthy and interesting) liner notes, they still sound closer to the Ramones, than, say, Atari Teenage Riot. Still, Steve Albini claims Metal Urbain, via nth-generation cassette tape dubs, as an inspiration for Big Black, and we can believe that too. Great stuff.
Malcolm Middleton, the multi-instrumentalist chap from those Scottish melancholics known as Arab Strap, steps up to the microphone. So as we might expect this does sound a great deal like A.S. if perhaps a bit more earthy, straight-outta-the-pub folky acoustic. 16 drained pints... er, I mean songs of depression, broken relationships and self deprecation. A slew of "woe is me, woe is you" lyrics ensues. Moods swing from rambunctious and rowdy to sullen and brooding. One of the totally pint-raising singalongs is "The King Of Bring":
I'm only happy when I'm sad
My good times are all bad
The best years have all left me
Alone with you.
Aaaah, heavy sigh... but somehow Middleton succeeds in not making 5:14 Fluoxytine a complete despair-fest. Along with the words of utter bleakness comes achingly pretty compositions both barebones like in "Cold Winter" as well as more fleshed out with subtle details like the misty-eyed strings, hushed female backing vocals and delicate chimes of "Best In Me". So good! Cup (who has a soft spot for Scottish mope-pop) has been playing this every single day since we got the advance copy. This domestic release includes four bonus songs as well as a short film by Martin Smith.
92 minutes of live Minor Threat footage, from three shows (1980, 1982, and 1983 in DC and NJ), including a Q&A session with Ian filmed in '83. There's a sixteen page booklet in here as well. Haven't had a chance to watch this yet, but we imagine all true Minor Threat fans will want this. And punk fans of today (if you're reading this) could probably learn a thing or two from these kids... man do they look young in the pictures on the DVD case!
More spliced up. Ultra damaged, completely fucked, ADD-core electronic mayhem. Pop references galore get dropped unceramoniously in the glitchcore blender and spit back out in million frames per second sonic collage of spastic drill and bass and hyperspeed plunderphonics. Silly and funny and irritatingly brilliant. Fans of Venetian Snares, Speedranch, V/VM, People Like Us, Kid 606 open wide!
Load strikes again! Amidst all the skronky arty punk costume rock bands indigenious to Rhode Island, Necronomitron rises above to play some actual honest-to-god METAL, and Providence's Load label was up to the task of bringing it to the indie-masses via this cd. Metal? Well, yeah, nasty, speedy, convoluted heaviness indeed. Besides their cool name, Necronomitron's got wretched chipmunk vocals, wheedily-wheedily guitar solos, frantic riff-mongering, and drumming that sounds like a panicked giant centipede barrelling down a particularily steep staircase. And lots of "parts". It's a bit like old Nuclear Assault or Voivod, with the treble cranked to eleven. Or imagine a Crom-Tech record that was truly heavy. Insane, punk, metal. The hectic tech-metal madness of songs like "Unscheduled Sunrise", "Incephalopod" and "Invading Assassin Is Dead" will dizzy and stupify you. After that excellent Usaisamonster record, another Load winner. Yay!
Uh oh. It's from Finland, and it's limited, and it's nobody you've heard of before. Thus Aquarius is almost contractually obligated to champion this 7", because all of those things ring true about No Xivic. This is also another fine release from Drone Records run by Stefan Knappe of Troum. On this single, No Xivic explore primeval, oceanic dronemusik, mysterious vocalizations broadcast as omni-directional sirensongs out from a sea of reverberation and tidal fluctuations. Very cold and very bleak, much like the later work of Lustmord. Limited to 300 copies, with this first edition pressed on clear vinyl. ONLY A HANDFUL OF THESE IN STOCK!
You know Oxbow, our favorite cult, avant-garde, psycho-sexual hard rock outfit from right here in San Francisco? Well now thanks to filmmaker Christian Anthony, now you can vicariously join Oxbow for their summer 2002 European tour. Even better than actually being there, you can enjoy their shows and tour hijinx without running any risk of Oxbow singer Eugene getting you in a headlock (and pulling down your pants, as happens to at least one unhappy Scotsman in this film). The live footage captures the Oxbow rock machine in all their twisted, bawling glory, while the 'behind-the-scenes' stuff will show you that they're actually all really nice guys! The sound is fine for the performances, but sometimes you'll have to turn up your tv to make out the interview portions due to unavoidable background noise. It's a DVD-R, homemade production but totally pro in filmic execution. Definitely one for Oxbow fans, to tide you over until they play your town again (unlikely unless you live in SF or in Europe) and 'til their next album comes out (rumored to be a Hydrahead release in 2005). Folks unacquainted with Oxbow might be mystified, but if you've got the right stuff you might just become a fan too. Check it out...
Phosphor is German magazine that is "searching for the edges of progressive, experimental and electronic music and experimental dance theatre," and also appears to be quite active in promoting a number of cool events and radio broadcasts in their native country. There aren't any features, interviews, or articles; rather, Phosphor is jam packed with informative reviews of The User, Ken Ikeda, Pole, T. Raumschmiere, KK Null, Komet, Glenn Branca, etc. Touch Records was also kind enough to supply Phosphor with a sampler cd-r from their exceptional catalogue with tracks by Ryoiji Ikeda, Locust, Fennesz, Hazard, Oren Ambarchi, Philip Jeck, Chris Watson, and more.
Markus Schmickler has enjoyed a long career of artistic reinventions, and his Pluramon project marks yet another with the highly acclaimed album Dreams Top Rock. Back in the early '90s, Schmickler began his musical career with a number of obscure electro-acoustic collaborations including Kontakta and Pol; but Schmickler's first major productions came with his first Pluramon record Pick Up Canyon, an album on which Schmickler worked with with Can's drummer extrordinaire Jaki Leibezeit. Outperforming much of the contemporary post-rock of the mid-90s (i.e. Tortoise, Stereolab, etc.), Pick Up Canyon brought an exceptional use of electronics to the always amazing clustered grooves of Leibezeit. Since then, Schmickler also released painterly electro-glitch collages as Wabi Sabi and an overlooked orchestral album that accurately reflected the ideas of such 20th Century avant-garde masters as Ligeti, Arvo Part, and Xenakis.
Schmickler's return to his Pluramon project finds him re-investing in the sublime beauty of shoegazer pop on Dreams Top Rock. As with Pick Up Canyon which hinged upon the percussive prowess of Jaki Leibezeit, Dreams Top Rock revolves around the ego of another. This time it's the David Lynch dream-girl Julee Cruise. Yes, there's plenty of My Bloody Valentine to go around; but to these ears, Dreams Top Rock is also a pastiche of A.R. Kane's very early singles dotted with melodies lifted from the Angelo Badalamenti songbook. Cruise's breathy vocalizations and hushed etherial whispers work incredibly well with Schmickler's adept reinterpretation of the shoegazer sound. Unlike Slowdive or My Bloody Valentine, Schmickler doesn't present himself as a brilliant songwriter. His songs are certainly better than most; but he tends to overwhelm the songs with his flawless production of that narcotized guitar sound.
Especially for anyone who bought the recent M83 record, Dreams Top Rock is an essential album. However, one non-music related complaint: Whose bright idea was it to put a sticker on the front of the digipak with the artist name and album title? I mean, sure, leave that info off the artwork, put a sticker on the cd case, or on the shrinkwrap. But if you decide to leave it off the artwork, then why would you put a sticker (that you can't peel off) directly on the cardboard of a digipack?! It makes no sense. GRRRR!!! ARGGHHH!!!
Who can resist feisty art punk with horns? If you can't, the first song on this album is for YOU! Made us eager for more, but unfortunately the trumpet only appears on that opening track. Dang! But the rest is pretty great nonetheless, packed with edgy female vocals (still drawing comparisons to Sleater-Kinney's Corin Tucker) occasionally coupled with more subdued male backing vocals, angular raw guitars that veer and twist as if teetering precariously on a cliff, and a driving firecracker drumbeat that seems considerably tighter than on previous releases. Actually the whole picture seems a lot more feverishly focussed (and a little less poppy) that their last full length, the well received Atmosphere+. Hmmm, a bill of The Quails coupled with Erase Errata and Sleater-Kinney would make for a damn fine show. Yeah, I know this has already happened -- these bands have toured together in the past. However on The Song Is Love, The Quails are bursting with an increased confidence and attitude that would surely add ample fuel to such a blistering fun evening of rock. Indeed The Quails seem to be the bridge between those two bands -- particularly in the aforementioned swooping grrrl vocals of S.K., the jagged postpunk dissonance of E.E., and the volatile energy of both. Right on!
This band is in sort of a tough postion. But they brought it on themselves. As with lots of genre-hopping bands, Radiation 4 hop nimbly and deftly between two specific genres, but it just so happens that the two genres in this case, are like cats and dogs. Radiation is heavy. And I mean HEAVY. Able to spew grim shrieking black metal, and pummelling chaotic metalcore like it was second nature. And it is second nature actually, because they also indulge their Faith No More / Mr. Bungle / Mushroomhead, goofy, crooning, proggy nu-metal side quite a bit. Now we all loved Faith No More back in the day, but that goofy over-eclecticism tends to grate a bit. That said, Radiation 4, do both amazingly well, and those facets fit better than you might think. And it helps that this record is so goddamn heavy at points. But it you're unable to handle any Slipknot or Bungle chocolate in your black metal / metalcore peanut butter, you better pass. Otherwise, give it a chance -- Andee ended up loving it.
Finally, the second and final (?) installment in the epic musical/fictional world that is Ray's Vast Basement. Smoke-y and murky song-stories following the life and times of the residents of Drakeville. Dreamy and surreal, By A River Burning Blue is equal parts Tom Waits, Sparklehorse, classic Nebraska-era Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Butch Hancock, Dire Straits, etc. Slow melancholy classic sounding rock songs, lushly produced, intimate and hushed. Sweet and lovely. For those new to RVB, the songs all chronicle the 100,000,000-year history of Ray's Basement, a fictional cave in the town of Drakesville about which all the songs are written. The complete set is also now available with the debut cd, the new cd as well as a songbook and set of beautifully printed cards.
This is it! The complete Drakesville mythology. Those of you who have the first Ray's Vast Basement album know just what we're talking about. For those of you who don't, the Mythology of Drakesville has been in the works for nine years, an interwoven, fictional culture of music, stories, history and imagery, all revolving around an imagined cave called Ray's Vast Basement and the eccentric residents of the northern California town of Drakesville. The story is told via the two RVB cds as well as a gorgeously printed songbook and set of cards. Here's what we had to say about the first RVB album:
One of the most refreshing listens we've heard in a long long while, Ray's Vast Basement is a collection of perfectly-crafted, honest-to-gosh SONGS written in the tradition of gravelly-voiced observers-of-life such as John Prine, Bob Dylan, and especially Butch Hancock, one of the four founding members of Austin's legendary Flatlanders (who also spawned Joe Ely and Jimmie Dale Gilmore). Oh, and Andee thinks they sound a little like the Dire Straits. "On the Banks of Time" is a fully formed aesthetic triumph. There's also a lyric booklet and stunningly executed, heartbreakingly poignant series of 60 cards detailing the 100,000,000-year history of Ray's Basement, the fictional cave in the town about which all the songs are written.
And elsewhere on this list you'll find the review of the second album and final piece of the Drakesville story:
Finally, the second and final (?) installment in the epic musical/fictional world that is Ray's Vast Basement. Smoke-y and murky song-stories following the life and times of the residents of Drakeville. Dreamy and surreal, By A River Burning Blue is equal parts Tom Waits, Sparklehorse, classic Nebraska-era Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Butch Hancock, Dire Straits, etc. Slow melancholy classic sounding rock songs, lushly produced, intimate and hushed. Sweet and lovely. For those new to RVB, the songs all chronicle the 100,000,000-year history of Ray's Basement, a fictional cave in the town of Drakesville about which all the songs are written.
This set includes both cds, the songbook and the printed cards. So cool!
It says "Electronic Music From Razor Blades To Moog" on the disc and that pretty much sums it up. You'll glean a bit more of an idea of what this is all about from the in-the-studio photos of Robb, a nice looking old man with a big white mustache, though some liner notes would have been nice (c'mon, Locust!). What we do know is that lawyer-turned-maverick-composer, John Donald Robb, was on the cutting edge of electronic music starting way back in the 1940s! His work was perhaps especially beepy-bleepy beat-oriented (hence the title of this cd) and is certainly full of vintage electronica atmosphere. Rhythmania is compiled from the best of Robb's two Folkways LPs, and is a swell collection of his pioneering electronic experimentation, total mad-scientist laboratory stuff for fans of the likes of Tod Dockstader, the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center, and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop. Definitely a great personal soundtrack to the next '60s era sci-fi novel you sit down to read!
The new album from our new favorite Norwegian instrumental 'post-rock' band, finally in stock (along with restocks of the two discs we listed before, "Clingfilm" and "Jugend")! We think people will like this quite bit, although we're slightly less gung-ho
