A whole lot has changed since we first laid our ears on this glorious slab of cinematic Finnish casiocore way back in the twentieth century. At the time Derek, the debut full length from these Finnish freaks, was released, it was just about the weirdest and coolest thing we'd ever heard. And the last few years haven't changed that one bit! What has changed is the fact that now, the whole world, at least the underground music world, have their eyes squarely on Finland's fertile music scene. Eating up anything and everything, and it's all amazing! Circle, Kemialliset Ystavat, Avarus, Anaksimandros, Paavoharju and on and on and on. But before all these bands (except for Circle) Aavikko were busy creating impossibly catchy, Eastern tinged synthesizer scores for imaginary Westerns, or Bollywood movies, or whatever crazy Finnish movie could handle being accompanied by this maniacal music. Think of it this way, the fictional filmscores of Godspeed You Black Emperor or Barry Adamson are meant to be played at 33 rpm, to capture all of the scope, space, and time of their bleak sonic imagery, right? Well supposing that is indeed true, then Aavikko's utterly absurd and gloriously frolicsome music is some alternative universe version of those filmscores meant for 33, but played at 45. Or heck, 78!! Manic twin casios wiggle out catchy tunes that could easily have sprung from the mad mind of Martin Denny, had he been composing for 60's spy thrillers. Tomi Leppanen (Aavikko's human metronome, and currently the drummer for Circle AND Pharoah Overlord) propels the casio madness with pseudo disco syncopations and hyper-active breakbeats, while second hand synths weave surprisingly lush noir soundscapes, equal parts moody cocktaily jazz, propulsive spy thriller soundtrack muzak, spastic mechanical sounding krautrock and pretty much every musical stop in between. The surprising thing is that every song, no matter what strange twist or direction it takes, is wildly fun, unbearably catchy and weird as fuck. Full of hooks and unlikely sounds, funky grooves and hauntingly playful circus music, this record is one of the greatest warm and fuzzy, feel good, psychedelic groove lounge freakout records EVER! Aavikko's original label Bad Vugum coined the term maniacal monkey jazz for Aavikko, and we're not sure we could come up with anything better!
We can't tell you how psyched we are to have this back in stock. This is one of THE essential Finnish records, definitely one of our top five Finnish records EVER. This reissue is so long overdue as Derek has been out of print practically for freaking EVER! 7 or 8 years! Until now! Plus, this reissue includes two bonus tracks from the also long (and still!) out of print Aavikko cd ep. And who can argue with MORE Aavikko?!?!
Japan's Acid Mothers Temple posse is laying their cards on the table with this one. With that title, which references both King Crimson and Black Sabbath, and the album cover, which sees AMT leader Kawabata Makoto standing in for the mysterious woman on the front of the first Black Sabbath album, they're paying tribute to two bands they love and also raising our expectations to perhaps unattainable levels, 'cause we love those bands too. I mean, are they REALLY gonna do the spirit of the Sabs and KC justice on this disc? Well being AMT I guess we shouldn't take them all that seriously. And no, they don't cover either band here or even end up sounding much like them. But this IS a pretty darn heavy and freaked out AMT album (moreso than usual, that is!). Kinda along the lines of their Electric Heavyland opus released a few years back on the same label, Starless And Bible Black Sabbath is a monster jam of epic, amped-up proportions that seems more like a tribute to heavy Hawkwind or maybe Monster Magnet than the two bands alluded to by the title. And that's fine by us! Kawabata isn't a riffmeister like Tony Iommi anyway, nor do his albums usually attain the level of compositional complexity for which King Crimson were noted. But both Sabbath and Crimson had their improvisational sides as well (better known in KC's case but definitely a big part of early Sabbath too) and that's perhaps what's inspiring the always jam-ready AMT here! You get two tracks, "Starless And Bible Black Sabbath" being a mammoth, mostly instrumental 34 and a half minute workout full of plodding, heavy riffage and gibbering gobs of spaced out FX. Again, although one bit reminds us of Sabbath's "Children Of The Grave", this could just as easily be a tribute to Hawkwind or Guru Guru or even Soundgarden (isn't that the "Outshined" riff in there?), but whatever, it's the sort of cosmic, crushing chaos which we love from Kawabata and Co., and would be the perfect AMT track to attract fans of bands like Electric Wizard and Ufomammut. Though exhausting enough by itself, they don't stop with that, as a second, six minute track -- the sloppy, speedy, frenzied "Woman From A Hell" -- finishes off the album like the Pink Fairies in a race with the devil. Dunno, even though we had our doubts 'cause of the cheekiness of the title/cover, this might just be our favorite AMT release in a while!
Wow what a great lost discovery! Originally released in 1975, this Madrid psychedelic-pop outfit were making some of the most pleasing and colorful sounds in Spain during their all too short existence. Due to its limited release it never made its way to much of the rest of the world. Intense psych aficionados have treasured and always been on the lookout for this, their one and only release, but in order to be lucky enough to get a copy you had to be willing to shell out big bucks for one of the few copies that were still around. Luckily 30+ years later the world gets to hear what those in the know in Madrid in '75 got so excited about. With 8 songs in English and 2 en Espanol, Agamenon took a love of Sgt Peppers era Beatles, good time drugs, colorful melodies and enough quirk and charisma to make their songs jump out at you. From fuzzed out acid rock to sunny beaming psych-pop glory, this is one of those bands that deserves a place next to Os Mutantes and Love with their ability to create an album filled with so much vibrant energy, catchy hooks and a spirit that makes you want to lay in the greenest grass on the warmest day and roll around for hours.
A conceptualist first and an electronicist second Antye Greie-Fuchs has developed a successful career mapping out the dullness of daily life. This was particularly true for her post-Laurie Anderson monotone recitation of dictionary definitions for 'code' over glitch-hopped electronica, found on her recording Language Is The Most. She and San Francisco's highly decorated multi-media artist Sue Costabile have been collaborating for some time now, performing mostly through the European sound-art festival circuit; and Mini Movies marks their first release together sprawling across a CD and appropriately a DVD. While smeared with brittle digital glitches, AGF and Sue C do little to hide their infatuation with R&B slowjam grooves. In turn they replace the narrative excesses of R&B lovesongs with topics as banal as possible: recipes, commuting, jetlag, e-mail, etc. Even when Sue C pines for the next time she can "get really fucked up," it's more of an afterthought as if there's nothing else of any real value to wish for. Composed and filmed in New York, San Francisco, London, and Berlin, Mini Movies acts as something of a fragemented travel diary between the two artists, communing with both artists' shared sensibility of everyday modernity.
Limited to 50 and we only have nine so once they're gone they are gone for good! Yet another self released cd-r gem comes our way. Ilyas Ahmed works his way around a guitar in a manner that would have fit right at home on the great "Wooden Guitar" comp that came out on Locust a few years back. Totally great playing that both wanders and resonates with ease and purpose. A little bit like a more loose Jack Rose with a definite Fahey influence and that early good Leo Kotke sound to boot. Something really humble and lowkey about the record that makes it sit so well too. Too bad these will be gone before you can blink, but now we know to keep our eyes out for future releases that hopefully won't be so super limited.
A semi-legendary fixture of the late eighties cassette underground, Alvars Orkester was a noise/drone duo obsessed with "the mysteries of psychic sickness, mental institutions, the industrial music culture and the power of sound". They took their influence from the likely industrial candidates, Test Dept. SPK, Throbbing Gristle and the like, but their sound soon developed into a more minimalist approach to sound, focusing more on the drone. The band split in the nineties only to reunite last year to record this 4 track exploration of paranoia and discord, fear and mortality, sickness and death.
The first track is a ten minute near static drone, dense and layered a high end sine wave hovering above a low end buzz, the two slowly shifting and subtly interacting. Sublime and in its own way quite gorgeous. Track two is much more harsh, an assemblage of digital feed back, harsh slabs of noise, chopped and sequenced into ear piercing rhythmic blocks of sound. Track three "Reality Distortion Field" is a shimmering soundfield of chimes and sinewaves, pulsing instrument hum and far away feedback, a murky backdrop for disembodied voices and strange tape manipulation. Truly creepy stuff. the final near 20 minute "Field Grey" is a super minimal expanse of barely there dark ambience. Low warm tones, ebb and flow, their shifts barely noticeable until near the end of the record when processed percussion swells up beneath the drones, and ultra subtle melodies drift ghost like from the murk. So haunting and lovely. Definitely for the dark drone obsessed, Organum, Lustmord, Chalk, Coleclough and the like.
And as with most releases on Ash International, gorgeously understated and quite striking packaging.
International Harvester, Algarnas Tradgard, Trad Gras Och Stenar, Kebnekajse. If those names mean anything to you then you're probably like us -- a big fan of Sweden's answer to krautrock, the Svenska psych-prog-folk bands of the seventies. There's been a veritable smorgasbord of cd reissues of awesome if obscure classic LPs by these and other '70s Swedish outfits over the past couple of years, and now comes this, a cd version of the third (we think, but maybe it's the fourth?) album by this legendary group, Arbete & Fritid, from 1973. Like Harvester and Kebnekajse especially, you'll hear plenty of traditional Scandinavian traditional folk music mixed up with a kinda Velvet Underground rock style in A&F. They've been described as sounding like the "Third Ear Band meets Terry Riley" and that's pretty accurate, especially on the last track here, a 20 minute drone-jam called "Ostpusten-Vastpusten" that's probably worth the $17 this costs alone. That's actually a bonus cut, taken from the Arbete & Fritid side of a 1972 split LP with some other band we've yet to hear. While that's the highlight, the rest of this disc is mighty fine too, the only problem perhaps being how their diverse interest in folk, politics, repetitive minimalism, and experimental jazz doesn't always lead to them maintaining a consistent vibe. During one song you'll be transported to the a cold farmhouse in the Swedish wilderness filled with rustic hippies sawing on violins, but then on the next you're in a basement radical jazz club pondering urban issues after a streetfight with the Man. In a way though that's kinda cool. Tea party waltzes and heavy fuzz jams, they're all here. Had we heard A&F before those other bands mentioned above, it's quite likely that they'd be the measure by which we'd judge the rest, as apparently they were a seminal influence on the scene -- in fact, members of the Parson Sound/Trad Gras Och Stenar axis later joined A&F after this particular album. Hopefully then this is only the first of a slew of A&F reissues!
Chuck Cleaver and his rag tag band ride again... well, sorta! A heap o' early Ass Ponys tunes have gotten a remasterin' and a reissuin'! Yupsiree, two dozen of 'em -- many have been totally out of print for ages including a bunch from two of their early albums Mr. Superlove and Grim, but some of the others were never released in the first place! On much of the first disc of The Okra Years, the Ohio band sound like a quirky cross between a few of their contemporaries, namely the ruminations of REM, the haunting reverb-drench of Galaxie 500 and the sweet jangle pop melodies of Unrest... or perhaps more simply stated a slightly countrified (country-fried?) Velvet Underground. They even do a rendition of "All Tomorrow's Parties". On the second disc, they lean more heavily into the warbly lonesome cowboy in the tavern style of twang. We dug 'em then, and we dig 'em now. If you favor indie rockers who on occasion will take to driving rusty ol' tractors, but you've yet to make the acquaintance of Ass Ponys, you'd better get a move on... your ride is here!
Some of us here whose proclivities gravitate towards rare psych and folk have been bemoaning the recent flurry of "buried treasures" and "lost classics". It seems a day does not go by without a new release or re-issue of a forgotten or recently discovered artist rescued from obscurity passing before our attentive eyes and drooling mouths. Sometimes the "lost classic" status is not always deserved (not everything made in the sixties and seventies that didn't receive any attention is noteworthy, somethings are better off staying buried or lost), but it's sure keeping the reissue labels and revisionist musicologists busy as they map out an ever-growing expanse of the spheres of influence on music today. It's hard to keep up and also pay equal attention to all the great music that is being made right now. This makes us very happy on the one hand that amazing music continues to be discovered but it also drives us crazy us to see our paychecks quickly dwindling every week. Why just in the past month, we've seen re-issues from Bridget St. John, Kay Hoffman, John Jacob Niles, Kaleidoscope and Fairfield Parlour (all pretty amazing!) among others. And now on our plate are these previously unreleased home recordings of German underground folk singer, Sibylle Baier. We must admit when we first heard this, we suspected fraud. These recordings sound almost too contemporary to have been made in the early seventies. But after doing a little research, we found out this is no fraud. These intimate recordings fully deserve their "buried treasure" status, for whatever that's worth at this point. Baier, only previously known for a song on an early Wim Wenders film soundtrack, recorded these songs in her home from 1970-73 after a "spirit-renewing" trip through the Swiss Alps. She has the warm Sunday jam and tea voice reminiscent of Vashti Bunyan, but with the more spare guitar compositions and melancholy vocal delivery of someone like Chan Marshall. In fact, we sort of wish the new Cat Power or Beth Orton records were this good! Like Bunyan, Baier shunned what could have been a successful career in order to raise a family and it's because of her son, Robby, that these recordings are being heard at all. But unlike Bunyan, these songs don't derive from a back to nature hippie-folk aesthetic, but rather they come from a more delicate fragility where life's beauty and despair are interwoven with the tiny details of daily life. Beautiful! Totally recommended for seventies folk enthusiasts as well as fans of contemporary singer/song-writers.
This is not actually new, but this is the first time we've been able to get this, and the moment we heard it, we knew it was something we had to list! Recorded in 1999, and orginally released in 2002, The Wheel Of The Law compiles three epic pieces of gorgeous minimalism from Russian composer Anton Batagov. Three discs, three tracks composed for organ, glockenspiel, xylophone, piano and percussion, inspired by Buddhism and the Quest for Nirvana, and the practices involved: peace, meditation, deep thought, breathing, conciousness. Repetitive and melodic, lush and so so beautiful. Someone once referred to Batagov as sounding "like Reich on vodka", not sure we hear the vodka, or even any sounds distinctly and immediately recognizably Russian, but there is certainly plenty of Reich here, as well as Riley, and most definitely some Harold Budd, especially in the delicate, spare piano arrangements. The first disc, "Circle Of Time" is four long movements of warm rich swells of organ, flowing lazily beneath delicate cyclical chimes and abstract piano figures, very dramatic and hypnotic. The second disc, the 4 track Voidness cycle: "Appearances And Voidness", "Clarity And Voidness", "Bliss And Voidness", "Mind And Voidness", introduces the same delicate chimes found on the first disc, but this time over a repeating series of haunting moaning violin melodies. Minor key and mildly atonal, the melodies are spread out over a spare background of complex overtones, all drifting dreamily into space. The final disc: "Liberation Through Listening In The Between" is again a massive sprawl of lush static organ drones, wavering and subtly pulsing, with simple three and four note melodies played out over minutes instead of seconds, chiming and ringing, resonating above the organ's mesmerizing drone, the whole thing supported by a barely there framework of simple percussion, so subtle and simple that it's basically a single drum, muted and way down in the mix, offering a sort of pulse for the piece, a musical heartbeat, slowed down, as if in meditation or contemplation.
So completely an utterly breathtaking.
Please note this is Vancouver band THE Battles, not to be confused with the post-rock Battles (no 'the')!
This is The Battles' follow-up to their 2001 debut Lycanthropy. While their record label has stickered this cd's shrinkwrap with mentions of "stylistic nods to Todd Rundgren, Mayo Thompson and Robyn Hitchcock", we hear The Battles' veering more towards Split Enz / Crowded House territory. That's a-ok with us, 'cause those Finn brothers are a couple of mighty fine songwriters with expressive voices and on the first few songs of Tomorrow's Eager Hands, The Battles' mainman Steve Wood sounds like he could be their younger brother. Later in the album, the abovementioned nods become more apparent as they draw in closer to the sound of their Vancouver brethren Destroyer (a few of whose members also appear here as well as a few from New Pornographers and Loscil). As well, they take a brief spacey soundscape detour which is much more in line with their five-years-ago selves, but seems somewhat incongruous here. Overall though there's plenty of retro pop smarts and poetic penmanship to sink your ears into... good stuff!
Both Shadows of Light and Archive had been made available in the '80s as collections of Bauhaus' videos and live recordings; and now they've been compiled onto a single DVD for your viewing pleasure. Shadows of Light originally featured all of the videos Bauhaus made, including the particularly grotesque chiaroscuro of "Mask" as well as four live tunes recored in stark black & white at the Old Vic in London. Archive fills in the remainder of the live material shot at that Old Vic show, albeit framed by a curious vignette of a Victorian gentleman being pursued by a couple of no-good thugs. Nonetheless, Peter Murphy stands out as a vampish hybrid of David Bowie and Iggy Pop during these outstanding live versions of "The Passion Of Lovers," "Dark Entries," and "Stigmata Martyr." Essential for anybody bit by the '80s revival bug.
You usually know that you are either an obsessive music addict or totally eccentric or hell both when Les Baxter records start making their way into your collection. And we are the first to admit that most of us fit in those categories, so yes, of course we love the king of exotica, Les Baxter. Most of you are familiar with Baxter but maybe you didn't know that he was the in house conductor and arranger for Captiol records in the 50's making hits for folks like Nat King Cole. Always searching for new instruments, bigger orchestras and sounds filled with exclamation points and a whole lot of flavor, Baxter became a perfect fit for motion pictures as he would go on to score over 120 films with his specialty being Roger Corman films and teenage exploitation flicks. The Fruit Of Dreams combines two of his late 50s and early 60's albums on which he travels to "exotic" places in the world and brings those sounds back to people's suburban living rooms. Something so totally charming about the naivety and dramatic flair of these recordings. With titles like "Hong Kong Cable Car" , "Harem Silks From Bombay", "The Feathered Serpent of the Aztecs" you know this is that great over the top exploitive stylistic travelogue that you can't help but get swept up by. Brilliant and twisted minds like George Kuchar, John Waters, Beck and Jello Biafra all count themselves as unabashed Les Baxter fans...and so do we.
DOOM HISTORY HERE FOLKS! And not just that, it's a fantastic album. Ok, you know something is up when almost EVERYONE here at AQ absolutely loves a doom metal album. Not just the regular metal heads (Andee, Allan, Jason, Lauren) but also Jim and Cup too. Indeed, Cup's two cents for this review is this: "fucking awesome!"
So what's all the fuss about Bedemon? Well some of you may be familiar with the band Pentagram from Maryland, who have about a 30+ year history, going on 40 in fact. Well Bedemon are essentially an obscure but very worthwhile footnote to Pentagram's history, being the "solo" recording project of original '70s Pentagram guitarist Randy Palmer, the majority of this recorded circa 1973-74 with a few tracks from a 1979 Bedemon session as well. They never played out, or even released any records. Bedemon were more of a practice room, basement-recording project that involved Palmer and friends, including the other members of Pentagram, most significantly the uniquely talented vocalist Bobby Liebling who sings on all of these cuts. It was just a way for Palmer to get his own songwriting down on tape, stuff that wasn't recorded by Pentagram. It's totally in the same vein as Pentagram though, if anything MORE dark and doomy than Pentagram's '70s output. Very heavy, and heavily Black Sabbath influenced, also with echoes of Blue Cheer, Randy Holden's Population II, and Iggy & The Stooges (the track "Time Bomb" is very Stoogey, in a way similiar to Pentagram's "Last Days Here"). And for '73, this is definitely about as heavy as it gets, Sabbath and Pentagram themselves excepted. There's so many great tracks on here, each one more sorrowful and wrought with doomful emotion than the next, all of 'em throbbing and (awesomely) distorted. Yes, the quality of these rehearsal tape recordings is downright grungey and murky, but in our opinion that isn't a distraction nor a detraction. In fact, it only makes this better, totally capturing that spirit and raw energy of jamming in the garage for your own enjoyment. And it also sounds doomier that way too. Hands down, Randy Palmer wrote some of the best Pentagram songs, and many of these are just as good. Some of his riffs absolutely lay to waste those of his contemporaries. Just imagine if Palmer had decided to promote his doom skills rather than keep them for the most part to himself. Holy shit. At least we have this, one of the best "lost" albums ever uncovered in the realm of heavy, underground music.
Sadly, Palmer died in a tragic car accident just a few years ago, so the official release of this material at long last is also something of a tribute to his memory. Some of this stuff has been bootlegged before, but this legit release has been done with the blessings of Randy's survivors and the input of the other Bedemon musicans. There's even a Wes Benscoter cover painting based on Palmer's own hand-sketched ideas, as well as lots of photos, a Bedemon history written by Palmer before he was killed, and some very fascinating, detailed, and heartfelt liner notes from fellow Bedemon/Pentagram bandmate Geof O'Keefe.
Essential to all true fans of Pentagram, and also to anyone into heavy '70s Sabbathy psychedelic garagey proto-metal!!
Another awesome issue of our favorite new magazine. Politics, music, science, lifestyle. Brilliantly researched and written, with plenty of humor to boot. This month: 'Genetic Screening And Medical Narrative', 'Genre Is A Minimum Secutriy Prison: Lyric Essays And The Artistic Hunger For Reality', 'Fat Fiction - Why Are Obese Characters - From Falstaff To Ignatius Reilly - Painted In Such Broad Strokes?', 'Literary Nothingness And Kafka's Life', as well as interviews with Alice Quinn (poetry editor of the New Yorker), Harold Ramis (Ghostbusters!), Robyn Hitchcock, painter Ed Ruscha, as well as an article by Nick Hornby, a review of a 1949 Partisan Review, author Colin Macinnes, a Sarah Silverman (filling in for Amy Sedaris) advice column, the 2006 Beleiver Book Award and more more more!
Nothing we're going to say here is really gonna sway any of you diehard Belle And Sebastian fans now will it? Alright-y then! With the exception of our two Belle & Sebastian cheerleaders, we here at AQ have admittedly never really been big fans of this Scottish band's brand of pop. While we appreciate their wry braininess, their tweeness was always just too... uhh, twee. That all changed with their last album 2003's wonderful Dear Catastrophe Waitress. That album sure changed our tune, and endeared itself to even Andee! Oddly it seems two rival camps have formed -- one filled with folks who loved everything up to D.C.W. and one with folks who disliked everything up to D.C.W. So needless to say there's been more than a little anxious anticipation for their follow-up. Well, we are saddened to report that upon hearing The Life Pursuit, we (including one of our B&S supporters even!) have collectively shuddered a profound "uh oh". Unlike the effortless, carefree pop jubilance of Dear Catastophe Waitress, each of the baker's dozen songs gave us the impression that the band was in turn feeling tired, bored and forced -- from the flat female vocals of the opening track "Act Of The Apostle" to the usually bulletproof, but here very lackluster vocals of frontman Stuart Murdoch. Now, you could on the other hand interpret this different tone more complimentarily as "subdued" or "restrained", but the band also takes strange excursions into what resembles '70s funk, fusion and blues rock and a watered-down version of the New Pornographers (their labelmates with whom they will be touring shortly). At best, there's a couple of songs here that are a small step down from D.C.W., at worst there's stuff on here that sounds like music for those '70s fountain 'dancing waters' shows. Yikes. Yes, very harsh words, but expectations and standards were high, and ours is some pretty harsh disappointment. Unfortunately instead of converts, we're reverts... and this time not just for their tweeness but for other reasons. Which will you be? If you need us we'll be over here listening to our D.C.W. and/or Tigermilk albums.
WARNING!!! WE ONLY HAVE 12 COPIES OF THE DELUXE VERSION IN STOCK AND IT IS ALREADY OUT OF PRINT. IF YOU ORDER THIS DELUXE VERSION AND WE HAVE ALREADY RUN OUT, YOU WILL BE SENT THE STANDARD VERSION!!!
Nothing we're going to say here is really gonna sway any of you diehard Belle And Sebastian fans now will it? Alright-y then! With the exception of our two Belle & Sebastian cheerleaders, we here at AQ have admittedly never really been big fans of this Scottish band's brand of pop. While we appreciate their wry braininess, their tweeness was always just too... uhh, twee. That all changed with their last album 2003's wonderful Dear Catastrophe Waitress. That album sure changed our tune, and endeared itself to even Andee! Oddly it seems two rival camps have formed -- one filled with folks who loved everything up to D.C.W. and one with folks who disliked everything up to D.C.W. So needless to say there's been more than a little anxious anticipation for their follow-up. Well, we are saddened to report that upon hearing The Life Pursuit, we (including one of our B&S supporters even!) have collectively shuddered a profound "uh oh". Unlike the effortless, carefree pop jubilance of Dear Catastophe Waitress, each of the baker's dozen songs gave us the impression that the band was in turn feeling tired, bored and forced -- from the flat female vocals of the opening track "Act Of The Apostle" to the usually bulletproof, but here very lackluster vocals of frontman Stuart Murdoch. Now, you could on the other hand interpret this different tone more complimentarily as "subdued" or "restrained", but the band also takes strange excursions into what resembles '70s funk, fusion and blues rock and a watered-down version of the New Pornographers (their labelmates with whom they will be touring shortly). At best, there's a couple of songs here that are a small step down from D.C.W., at worst there's stuff on here that sounds like music for those '70s fountain 'dancing waters' shows. Yikes. Yes, very harsh words, but expectations and standards were high, and ours is some pretty harsh disappointment. Unfortunately instead of converts, we're reverts... and this time not just for their tweeness but for other reasons. Which will you be? If you need us we'll be over here listening to our D.C.W. and/or Tigermilk albums.
Belong, belong (couldn't resist) in a world of washed out sound, faded memories and blistering layers of sound. Imagine the warm crackles of Endless Summer era Fennesz, a touch of Godspeed You Black Emperor aimed at monumental peaks and valleys, a Flying Saucer Attack eyes half closed eyes half open delivery with a My Bloody Valentine shimmering layer of sound thrown in for good measure. A duo from New Orleans, Belong do a really nice job of taking from their influences but also having their own unique take on the whole gauzy smeary ambient free noise sound. Their take being a thick heady blast of sound that doesn't at all lose any of its gauzy dreaminess. October Language is that great kind of record that can take on different lives when played soft vs. loud. It allows you to enjoy it quiet, as a textural layer that you can dream beneath or drift away on top of. Or you can blast Belong and they'll take you out of your dreams, and your head and into another state completely. So nice!
Aussie technogrind outfit The Berzerker offer up their latest juggernaut of death on Earache, World Of Lies. This third time around they've removed their cool Slipknot-like monster masks but their music is still plenty scary. Peppered with bad-vibes samples, these downtuned tunes are vicious vehicles for The Berserker's indecipherable vocals, with which he spits out personal, angry, emo lyrics. Most striking, though, about this band's music is the absolute blasting speed of the drumbeats. It's insane. Truly berserk indeed. Whew. And no, it's not entirely human. Unfeeling machines are involved... so The Berzerker could be compared to a hyperspeed Godflesh. They are also very much Carcass-inspired. Thus it totally belongs on Earache, reminding us of the classic old days, and should please most fans of "extreme" metal today, pushing as it does at the envelope of velocity and violence.
Be ready to be blown away by absolute total beauty! Pandit Debashish Bhattacharya is one of the best slide guitar players on the planet. He creates his own guitars which he plays ragas on. He is credited as the first person to put resonating strings on a slide guitar back in the 1970's and also the first to put chickaree (drone) strings on the front. His three-finger picking technique allows him the ability to have lightning speed and most importantly create the hypnotic patterns that radiate throughout this record. While the technical aspect of what he does is so spectacular, it's the fact that he transcends his instrument, which is what truly makes Bhattacharya a special artist. You can't help but just get lost in the hypnotic quality of his playing and the ability of the music to take you off the ground. It's almost like hearing Ravi Shankar and John Fahey combining forces to see how breathtaking a record they could make together. While Debashish Bhattacharya's name might not be on the tip of people's tongues like the aforementioned are, here's hoping once this record is heard that he will be. Highly recommended!
Following up his shimmery, celestial debut album Fi, Bibio brings his music more down to earth with his no less warm 'n' blissful second album, Hand Cranked. Really pretty, willowy, pastoral soundscapes crafted from slightly woozy sampled loops of delicately picked guitar, piano, recorder and other found sounds from his collection of cassette-recorded field recordings. Can't tell for sure if they're real or not (probably are), but adding to the outdoorsy breezy atmosphere of the fifth track "Marram" are some sounds that resemble twittery birdsong. Another stand-out is the final fluttery track "Overgrown". Conjures visions of butterflies, raindrops and babbling brooks. Very very nice!
When this came out on vinyl a couple months back, we sort of let is slip by; but the cd is a different matter. It's probably not that the music is all that different (other than the obvious fact that the cd is almost 25 minutes longer than the LP), but Biosphere's ambient beatitudes work so much better through the extended / not-having-to-rise-from-the-couch format of a cd. Biosphere is the work of Norway's Gier Jenssen, who has been producing some mighty fine ambient based electronica for nearly 15 years. Dropsonde retains all of Biosphere's lovely ambient swaths, arctic lullabies, and hypno-dreamtime loopings, not too warm and not too cold. Just right! The one detour to this records is found in Jenssen's occasional splashes of skittering jazz percussion, rendering Dropsonde the Norwegian parallel to the noirish timbres that Amon Tobin had crafted on his brilliant Supermodified and Permutations albums. Unlike so much "ambient" music which disguises a lack of good ideas behind tasteful synth patches and sultry grooves, Biosphere has always stood out in the slightly misnamed genre (after all, how can ambient music have beats?), and Dropsonde is yet another feather in his cap.
Ah folks, proof that you shouldn't judge a book (or cd) by its cover! When Mike Sempert first dropped off a copy of this new release of his solo project Birds & Batteries its appearance (cover art, title, handmade sleeves, etc) initially struck us as perhaps a Jewelled Antler related or inspired release. Listening to it brought very different impressions. Blending together rootsy Americana, post-rock and electronica, the first song's stuttery programmed rhythms and hypnotic loops of arpeggiated melodies contrast well with Sempert's deep, melancholic vocals and guitar, bass and drums. Winding its way around the proceedings are some slippery stringy sounds that we guess is pedal steel or an e-bowed electric guitar or perhaps a synthesizer. He also enlists his friends to contribute saxophone, clarinet, female vocals (by Ms Heather Masse) and percussion in the form of a box of sugar! A very cool introduction to this recent SF transplant (from the far reaches of the Eastern Seaboard)!
We often lament the state of musical affairs that would render records that are as good as anything and everything we've heard by James Blackshaw to be so limited as to only be heard by a mere handful of people. But until now that has indeed been the case. Cd-r after gorgeous cd-r, limited to 200 copies, 100 copies, even less in some instances. But music this beautiful, this lush, this lovely definitely deserves a wider audience, even if its cd-r / underground / outsider / avant folk / new weird America cache suffers accordingly. Who cares? Who -can- care when faced with the sounds on O True Believers. Over the last few years, Blackshaw has found a home amongst free noise fellows and their fans (Celebrate Psi Phenomenon, Birchville Cat Motel, Rameses III, Vibracathedral Orchestra, Sunroof!, Avarus, etc.) even though his sound hewed much closer to Fahey and the like, a stark but sweet steel string Appalachia. Here, that sound is even more stark, more spare and oh so even sweeter. The opening two tracks will have you swooning, or drifting off, or swaying in some glorious mesmerized state or whatever it is you do when you find yourself submerged in some lush swirl of tonal dreaminess, 30 full minutes of guitar, mostly just guitar, spacious and grand, lilting and delicate, no whir or fuzz or rumble or any of the other sonic detritus that usually decorates most of the music like this we love -- no this is crystal clear and crystalline, shimmering and glistening, as if Blackshaw was some strange musical alchemist who discovered how to use a guitar to describe leaves covered in dew, green grass sparkling with morning frost, the sun reflecting on a placid pond, silvery streaks of sunlight filtered through the interwoven branches overhead. It's like wandering into a lost glade, laying in a thick soft patch of grass, and slowly sinking into the ground, until you BECOME the forest around you, sinking into a warm, wash of tranquil otherworldliness. Towards the end of track two, the guitars are joined by cymbalon, tamboura, and bells, and what was only moments earlier some sort of mysterious Appalachian folk, becomes a slow burning blissed out raga, steel strings buzz, each note smeared into warm drones, then sprinkled with delicate chimes and reverberating bells. Track three is equally as blissful, but is constructed quite differently, the guitar lines speed up and become intense and intricate tangles of notes, so snug that the melodies blur and stretch out melodic whirs, while lush major key swells, ebb and flow in the background, a swaying swooning sweetness. The final track is almost jubilant by comparison and 'rocks' as much as any foresty free folk Appalachia can be thought to rock, dense steel string strums, a simple percussive framework of cymbals and chimes, the whole thing wrapped in the wonderfully warm wheeze of a harmonium, adding a thick warm fuzzy patina to the sparkling steel shimmer beneath.
A very limited (and very expensive) lp version (pressed on nice thick vinyl and housed in a gorgeous sleeve) of the two most recent releases from guitarist James Blackshaw (one a new cd reviewed elsewhere on this list, the other a cd-r release from earlier in 2005). We only got a handful of these and once they are gone, they are probably gone for good.
Here's what we had to say about the Celeste cd-r:
Celeste is made up of two 15 minute tracks (one played in open C major tuning, the other in open C minor) of totally mesmerizing Appalachian raga folk, performed mainly on 12-string acoustic guitar with occasional farfisa organ and cymbals. Fans of John Fahey, Jack Rose, Matt Valentine and all things free folk will be completely blown away. There's still an element of drone in the repetitive raga-like riffing, but this is mainly and most definitely a weird and wonderful modern avant bluegrass / folk record. Lovely!
And here's what we have to say about Sunshrine:
More gorgeously lush neo-Appalachia from James Blackshaw, finally released on a real cd instead of an ultralimited cd-r, which makes perfect sense as this is way too good to be so limited. Two tracks, the first an extended thirty minute epic, a lush and completely gorgeous steel string raga, huge dense sweeps of intricately finger picked guitar, dense with reverb, accompanied by sarod, harmonium, Farfisa organ, glockenspiel, bells and bowed cymbals. Overwhelmingly beautiful and impossibly otherworldly. Expressive and aggressive but completely delicate and introspective at the same time. The end of the track is especially powerful when the guitars fade out and all that is left is the thick wheezing drone of the harmonium and a cloud of tinkling bells. The final three minutes is a very Fahey-esque, steel string guitar workout, gorgeous folky twang, simple and so lovely.
Another gem from Spain's psychedelic past! We've been getting some very interesting reissues of Spanish stuff lately (Agamenon, Tapiman, Eduardo Bort, Smash, The Spanish Trip comp, etc.) and this Brincos disc is one to add to that list. From 1970, this is psych-pop with a bit of a prog bent, especially on the album's ambitious lead-off / title track, "Mundo Demonio Carne", which clocks in at over twelve minutes long and is a real psych odyssey. Fuzzed out rockin' morphs into gentle folky melodicism and back into dramatic prog soundscapery. Worth it almost for this track alone, though happily the rest of the album is equally excellent and eclectic, from blues rock workouts to handclapping pop to fake raga ("Kama-Sutra"). There's lots of groove, and lots of lush, infectious melodies -- the kind that make you hit 'play' over and over again.
Some comparisons we could make, which may only make sense to those well versed in the pop/prog/psych obscurities of the era: Los Dug Dug's meets The Millenium? Aphrodites Child + Os Mutantes + Kak?? Well, if you know who some/all of those bands are you're probably the sort of person who would enjoy Brincos -- though that's not to say that if you've never heard of any of 'em you wouldn't like Brincos. Far from it. This is some appealing stuff that anyone with an ear for colorful, poppy psychedelia should dig...
This import from Spain is World Devil Body's offical reissue version and includes both Spanish and English language versions of many of the album's tracks.
YES! It's about time this was reissued! A cult metal fave, this debut record from San Francisco underground true metal masters Brocas Helm was originally released on LP by a label called First Strike back in 1984. The only cd edition of this was released in Germany long, long ago and is just as tough to find as the vinyl itself, not to mention that it was a budget release without even a track listing in the cd booklet, just a catalog of other cd reissues by various '80s contemporaries of Brocas Helm like Iron Angel, Trouble, Leatherwolf, Tokyo Blade, and Wendy O. Williams! Now, more than 20 years after its first appearance, here's a much more reverently presented cd reissue complete with five bonus tracks (from their 1983 Into Battle demo) and, better yet, a bonus live mpeg video of the band (with 2 guitar lineup) performing Allan's favorite Brocas Helm track, "Ravenwreck", live at the Old Waldorf in San Francisco in '83, in front of a crowd of raging 'bangers. About the only thing to complain about this reissue is that for some dumb reason they've put some new and not so great cover art on the front, with the album's original (and to be fair, also not so great) art only included inside the booklet, thumbnail sized...why??
But that hardly matters, what's important is that now a new generation of metal fans can hear why this band is mentioned alongside the legendary likes of Cirith Ungol and Manilla Road (if you're wondering who those bands are, well, just think Iron Maiden but way more obscure).
Into Battle is a proud and powerful album of hyperkinetic epicks. It's fantasy metal that pounds beers and gobbles acid and loves to rock and roll, weaving in psychedelic elements as well. The songs are about wizards and warriors, but also with lyrics actually about guitars and amplifiers too! Definitely inspired by the NWOBHM and also '70s hard rock like Thin Lizzy, Van Halen, and Riot, Brocas Helm's debut might have catapulted them to commerical success in the '80s metal world if only more people had ever heard it... though the San Francisco Bay Area was a hotbed of metal activity, with Metallica, Exodus, Testament, and many others breaking big, Brocas was perhaps just too eccentric and medieval to make it. Fortunately they never gave up, so the brave and bold can STILL go see these guys play and slay here in San Francisco now and then. They've released two other albums since Into Battle, those being 1988's Black Death (also just reissued on Eat Metal, to be reviewed here next list) and after a sixteen year wait, 2004's Defender Of The Crown! All are brilliant, with Into Battle being both essential for fans and the obvious place to start if you're new to the band. With their galloping tunes, heroic vocals and guitar shred, Brocas Helm are metal incarnate. If you like their spiritual brothers (nephews?) Slough Feg, you'll like Brocas Helm!!
All kids should be raised on psychedelic children's television shows! The world would be a way better, or at least way crazier place! The Bugaloos was the follow up show to Sid & Marty Krofft's other totally out there children's TV show HR Pufnstuf. Both shows were filled with psychedelic metaphors and totally infectious rainbow colored pop melodies. Kind of touted as the UK version of The Monkees, but of WAY more airy, trippy and psychedelic, the Bugaloos were a band of insects (cute interracial teens in tight clothes with cute little wings on their backs) who lived in Tranquility Forest, where they flew in the sky, battled the evil Benita Bizarre (played by Martha Raye) and spread their glorious pop, a heady concoction of lush string arrangements, candy coated harmonies and an overall Wizard Of Oz on acid vibe that made them a big hit, not just with the tots but with older folks too. We were so delighted that this was finally made available here in the states. There was a Japanese reissue a few years back but it was still hard to get and was quite pricey. Fans of The Free Design take note as this possesses that same kind of over the top poppy, happy and slightly warped cheerfulness. One listen and you can totally tell that there had to have been plenty of... um... well let's just say all sorts of mind altering goodies, involved in the creation of this far out show and the amazing and sweetly trippy pop soundtrack. Electric kool-aid for all the kiddies!!
Yes, your eyes and ears aren't deceiving you... this is a brand new Buzzcocks album! Back in 2003 we were caught plenty off-guard when these grandfathers of punk pop reassembled and released a new self-titled album, and now they've gone and given us another surprise wallop in Flat-Pack Philosophy. And again, the band picks right up where they left off. One thing tho' we sure wish the vocals were up front in the mix like the Buzzcocks' recordings of yesteryear, but no, instead they're somewhat buried. Likewise, we were wishing that the guitars were crisper and crunchier, but no, they're more the 'modern' thick wall o' distortion kind that they used on their last album. Sigh, can't have everything can we? We're yearning for the Buzzcocks of old, but the Buzzcocks of new haven't veered too far off their original course. One of the album's highlights is certainly the tenth song ("Dreamin'") with its catchy neat picked guitar counter-melody, but the song that hits closest to home is the second to last song ("I've Had Enough"). The vocals are prominent and guitars crackle with that familiar Shelley/Diggle electricity. Yeah, that's the ticket!
Tim Rutili, formerly of Chicago group Red Red Meat, conjures up a dusty, sunbaked, introspective Sunday morning of a record. Full of lush acoustic guitars and piano, this is not, rest assured, an annoying singer/songwriter record; it instead sounds like a
This new album from Calling All Monsters immediately seemed familiar to us here at AQ, and not just because one of the band members is dear Matthew Troy formerly of the raucous yet sweet Bay Area popsters and AQ pals Trackstar (for whom he was one of the two chief songwriters). Although the album gets things rolling with a surprisingly aggressive number that recalled the fist-pumpin' pop punk of Rancid and NOFX (not a bad thing AT ALL!), that bravado soon gives way to the sounds that seem more characteristic of Troy, leaning more towards early to mid nineties Dinosaur Jr and Sonic Youth. The Traps That Work Best makes for a logical progression and development from the fuzzy, feisty songs he wrote for Trackstar's last album Lion Destroyed The Whole World (2002). So nice.
After the little teaser ep came out a few months back with these two AQ fave's we were very anxious to get the full meal..and we're happy to report that the full serving is just as tasty and satisfying as we had hoped. Isobel Campbell, formely of Belle & Sebastian and Gentle Waves fame uses her oh so pretty voice next to Lanegan's (Screaming Trees) tough guy with a heart of gold stylings. While the ep felt like a very Lee & Nancy sort of affair, that sentiment is still felt on the full length but with more of their own unique stylings coming through. And while the ep also kind of felt like Isobel was playing the back up lady part, the full length feels like much more of her vision, as she produced it, wrote all but one of the songs and besides her trademark vocals she also plays everyting from cello, harp, piano, harpsichord, glokenspiel and tubular bells on the album. The artwork inside features a slew of interior photos inside a could be anywhere motel room on a lazy sunny day-after. And that's just the kind of record Campbell & Lanegan have made together.
You might say that the illustrious, seemingly tireless Ralph Carney is sorta the musical equivalent of a colorful traveling circus... uh, carney! Such a remarkably chameleon-like multi-instrumentalist / entertainer both on his own in the spotlight and in collaboration or support of others (Tom Waits, Jonathan Richman, B-52s, Marc Ribot, Beth Custer, Bill Laswell, Tipsy, Victoria Williams, Drizzoletto, Jim White, and Oranj Symphonette, to name just a few of the folks he's played with over the years)! Ever on the go, you just never know what he's gonna pull out of his hat or his bag of tricks or his magical wardrobe next. But you can pretty much bet that it'll be a little (or maybe more than a little) bit tweaked with an unorthodox yet seamless blend of styles (Dixieland, prog, bluegrass, lounge, pop or any fashion of jazz -- you name it!), and that the chops (musical that is, not his mutton chop sideburns!) will be bulletproof. Such is the case with this, the debut cd by his latest mostly instrumental project he formed with Kimo Ball, Scott Johnson and Allen Whitman (fyi: they also released a live cd-r last year which we also have in stock). Their horns, woodwinds, guitars, piano, percussion and sporadic vocals come together, become pals and have a rollicking coloring fest, shading both neatly inside and more rambunctiously outside of each track's lines. For a particular highlight, check out the third number "Interstellar Low-ways / Watusa". Great stuff!
You know how you get together with folks and have dinner, or watch a movie or go bowling. Watch a football game, some ultimate fighting or some Olympic curling. Some folks have barbecues, ping pong parties, pool parties. Some folks just sit around and do nothing, just shoot the shit and hang out. But then there are some folks who record their get togethers. Instead of showing up with a bottle of wine or some bread and cheese, they show up with a lap steel, an el guitar, e-bow, a prepared guitar, a 'sex machine' (no, it's not that type of party) and some effects. That's what Tom Carter from Charalambides brings along. But the host has a greater responsibility, so a host, like say Robert Horton, will have a beautiful spread all laid out when his guest Tom Carter arrives. The whole table is overflowing with goodies: a boot, a bowed boot, a computer, a vibrator, the el-toothbrush, slinky, electric barometer, snare drum, another 'sex machine' (maybe it is that kind of party), Casio MT-68, a computer, some field recordings, some microphones, some noise canceling headphones and maybe a nice harmonica. Everything you need for an afternoon of blissful drones, and ominous soundscapes, shimmering and dreamlike, and rumbling and ethereal. This may have started out as a dinner party, but it ended up a series of lovely and mysterious Ur-drones, clattery, slow shifting ragas, percussive tribal free jam drones, Vibracathedral Orchestra, Sunroof!, Ashtray Navigations, Double Leopards, Pelt, you get the idea. A room filled with smoke and sound, swirling and drifting lazily skyward. So lovely. We should definitely do this again sometime...
Simply in a class of her own. We've said it before and yes, we'll say it again... Neko Case's voice can invoke a power capable of levelling anything in its path emotionally and maybe even physically too -- leaving some hearts melted, some empowered and some broken. That said, this lady knows that you must wield such a force responsibly and wisely, and over the years she's attained full mastery of its might. On Fox Confessor brings The Flood as on her past albums, an ample serving of reverb in the recording process has ensured that her voice embraces your ears with utterly dreamy warmth, but it doesn't overpower its characteristic nuances. We all know (no doubt herself included) that she could floor you just by singing the alphabet or a grocery list, but we (and she) know that there's more to *it* than that. With each album she's steered clear of trends, reinvented herself subtly and honed a different facet of her craft. Here its her songwriting inkwell which has been given a thorough loving and it runneth over with the deepest indigos and the reds of blood and rubies. Yes, the most noticeable shift / development on Fox Confessor is definitely in the lyrics department. An ever-evolving and maturing lyricist, Case has honed her lyrical imagery into what very well are her least literal, but most poetic and vivid to date. The songs are definitely less immediate with fewer obvious hooks than those of her last three albums, but Fox Confessor inhabits a different realm, and is so very deeply moving and enchantingly special in its own ways. Indeed, it comes across much more as the work of a wise, seasoned storyteller than a flavor of the day pop songstress. Certainly not one to rest on her laurels, for her fourth album Case raises the bar once again, challenging both herself and her fans. Plus with the support of her revolving cast of supremely talented players, her musical tapestry has never been more lushly and intricately detailed. This time she's invited Garth Hudson of The Band into her collaborative fold/family which already shines with the likes of The Sadies, Giant Sand's Howe Gelb, Ms Kelly Hogan, Tom Ray, Jon Rauhouse, Brian Connelly, Calexico's Joey Burns and John Convertino. Each of her albums has been lauded as "her best yet", but with Fox Confessor we'd dare to say she's taken things to a whole 'nother spine-tingling level.
A side note for fans of her live show... you'll be pleased to find that "John Saw That Number" (or perhaps you might know it as that "holy to the world" song) makes a rousing appearance midway through the proceedings. With its soaring rounds of choruses, it's a particular crowd favorite at her shows she shares with her singin' pals Kelly Hogan and Carolyn Mark ('tho the latter is sadly missing this time around). Need we say? Highly recommended.
Yaaay, a new album from our dear pal Mr. Casiotone For The Painfully Alone (aka Owen Ashworth)! Seems like it was only yesterday that his last full length Twinkle Echo was released, but it was actually 2003. Wow, time sure flys! Anyhoo, Etiquette picks right up where that album left off, even in the cover art department with another lovely, enchantingly odd painting by his pal Heidi Anderson. Tho' Ashworth might portray a perpetually bashful, lovelorn teenager in his lyrics and stage presence, the musical manner in which he conveys his heartfelt confessions and sentiments has blossomed and flourished with each subsequent album. Yes, his beloved trademark bedroom-y lo-fi quality of bittersweet valentines being played out on thriftstore-scored toy electronic keyboards still surfaces here and there, but the compositions have gotten increasingly ambitious. Indeed this is his most grand (but still unmistakably CFTPA) to date. No longer a one man band (or at least not for the time being), he has a bunch of friends joining in the musicmaking fun which certainly contributes a good deal to the breadth of the recordings. Lots of different voices singing and playing a much more varied array of instruments.
One thing tho' that we must take issue with is that while there are times and places when the phrase "menstrual blood" should be mentioned, a Casiotone song ("Love Connection") seems like the last place you'd want to hear it... sung. It sure made us hit the brakes and go, "Whoa!" Don't get us wrong, we're not squirmish, but when we spend the better part of a CFTPA album getting up to 'holding hands' speed, it's a bit of a nasty jolt to be reminded of that time of month. Maybe they should've taken a cue from the same song's later lyrics "Some things are best left unsaid"? Perhaps somewhat unfortunately that's also the album's final song. Ah well, just press 'play' once more. You'll be right back to the beginning again, and all will be well.
Finally got enough of these to list. It's something you're gonna DEFINITELY want to have if you're into the whole '60s/'70s Swedish psychedelic scene, Sweden's "krautrock" bands if you will. Y'know, if you like Parson Sound, Trad Gras Och Stenar, International Harvester, Arbete Och Fritid, Algarnas Tradgard, Kebnekajse, and all the other often interrelated outfits that we've been lucky enough to find reissued on cd in recent years. You can add this to that list, a brilliant collection of loping, rollicking, freaky hippie jams from the drums/sitar and guitar duo of Edmund "Charlie" Franzen and Esdor Jensen, and friends. They got their start together in 1969, and performed at the first of the free festivals in the summer of 1970 that are now an part of Swedish counterculture hippie history. They definitely must have fit right in that time and place, judging by this cd's awesome mixture of Eastern-inspired raga rock, Swedish folk troubadour music, Dylanesque ballads, and HEAVY guitar power trio acid rock.
These tracks, recorded in 1970 and '71, have languished in obscurity, mostly unreleased for the past 30-some-odd years, several of them originally meant for an abandoned album release back in the day. A few, like "Wolfs Mouth Song" (here given its original title of "Fuck The Cops"!) were released on vinyl as singles and so forth. But you were probably never gonna run across one of those rarities... so it's great to have this all on cd! And Mellotronen has presented this in a nice digipack. Isn't that a great cover shot, of Charlie's back as he beats his drum kit at one of those hippie festivals?? It would good for a Levi's ad (you can see the tag on his jeans) if they were that hip. The 32 page booklet provides plenty of photos, a history of the band, and detailed track-by-track commentary on these recordings. There's also a discography complete with full-color reproductions of album covers and single sleeves. Very very nicely done.
When we first threw this on we were greeted by a huge frosty gust of blackened brrrrrrr, like nothing we'd heard since the first few Satyricon records. In fact we were all ready to push this as the perfect record for everyone who missed the good ol' days of Dark Medieval Times and Nemesis Divina. And it definitely is just that, but only some of the time. The rest of the time, Code traffic in some strange sort of haunting blackened metallic cabaret. Thick swaths of Burzumic fuzzguitar, a seasick swoon, droning and drifting hypnotically, like a smeared Slinty black metal a la Ved Buens Ende, and with similarly strange croony vocals, but here they are a sort of sea shanty croon, like old timey vocals broadcast on an old forties radio or maybe even like that cartoon frog that only sings "Hello My Baby" when no one else is listening. It's not humorous or anything, but that is definitely the timbre, old and sing songy, sort of wearily melodic, sometimes turning into a gorgeously mournful sort of gothy vocals that are a dead ringer for Interpol. Sounds weird, and like it couldn't possibly work, but it really is quite amazing. Beneath all this buzzing and crooning, the music occasionally slips into full on doomy Swans-y stuff, but still sort of lush and majestic like later Swans, with some truly odd warbly underwater basslines, slippery and woozy, giving the whole record a sort of dizzy dreamy vibe. But even those tracks that are mostly midtempo with the lush crooned vocals, veer back into ultra blackness now and again, with howled demonic vocals, huge thick riffing, very Khold-like at times, thick and snarling and buzzing wildly, before eventually slipping back into some kind of loping black waltz. Another blast of black metal that manages to retain its black heart while pushing in all sorts of not-so-black directions!
It was like AQ was filled with giggling school girls on the day this new gorgeous Colleen release came in. If you have been in the store in recent months there is a good chance you've been here while we listened to Colleen's two albums proper Everyone Alive Wants Answers and The Golden Morning Breaks over and over. There is something so distinctive about the way her records seep into your soul. The delicacy and childlike wonder of her records has made her one of our favorite artists of the last several years. This specially packed cd in the Staalplaat's Mort Aux Vaches series was recorded in 2004 before Colleen recorded Golden Morning Breaks and it saw her making the transition into using and playing acoustic instruments on her own and forgoing the sampling and heavy electronics of her debut. Though even on Everyone Alive... there was something so organic sounding about Colleen's songs and approach that set her apart and above so many of her contemporaries. These songs show her exploring an assortment of different instruments (zither, thumb piano, cello, ukelel, etc) but no matter what her hands are playing there is that constant amazing feeling of tender yearning beneath the achingly beautiful execution. Underlying everything is a subtle tension and haunting quality that takes the songs beyond just pretty and into a whole other category. We guess they call that the sublime. Whatever you call it, all we know is that Colleen is something totally special!
NB: This, like all Mort Aux Vaches releases, is limited and won't last long...
If you've only recently plugged into the Canadian indie music scene, you may know this fellow only as the guitarist of Broken Social Scene, but his music-making past stretches far back beyond his days in that band -- first and foremost as a solo singer/songwriter in Toronto but also supporting and collaborative player with a few fellow Canadians that you may or may not have heard of (Hawksley Workman and Andrew Cash to name a couple). This is his follow-up to 2003's Motor Motel Love Songs which was a collection of early recordings also released on the Arts & Crafts label (home to Broken Social Scene, Stars, Valley Of The Giants and the most recent American Analog Set album). What this all means is that Collett's certainly no rookie. His chops and songwriting quill are sharp, but his manner and mood are comfortingly well-worn and easy-going. Warm and casual and frequently reminiscent of (but not totally a replication of) the sounds of '70s soft (and not so soft) rockers such as Bread, Joe Walsh, and America. The third song "Brownie Hawkeye" even reminded us of the theme to Welcome Back Kotter... which we're not sure is a good or bad thing. Well, we're leaning more towards the latter actually, but it's redeemed by the punchy pop of the sixth song "I'll Bring The Sun" (in our opinion, it's the album's standout and a shining single if there were to be a designated one for this album), Then, Collett turns on a dime and delivers the hushed, achingly pretty "Tinsel And Sawdust". Nice. Sure to please fans of his more well-known Canadian connection or those of the recent '70s soft rock revivalists.
Church music? Yeah, sorta. The first (and title) track is real churchy all right with folky singing and organ... and of course it's called "Risen Savior". These guys (and gal) were indeed a Christian rock trio, from Kansas. But they did their thing in the late sixties / early seventies and thus thankfully (for our purposes) bring in some of the acid rock psych action of the era to their musical worship. With track two, "What Shall We Do?", the Concrete Rubber Band aren't quite as soft and innocuous, getting into some wilder, keyboard-driven garagey psych. Not that they turn into Iron Butterfly or anything -- though, their name seems to derive from a similar, psychedelic logic! Overall, this is really pleasant, with gentle and earnest male and female vocals dueting over guitar, percussion, and variety of keyboard instruments (organ, synth, electric piano/harpsichord). Standout tracks include the cultish "Wicked" with its burbling electronic intro, and the dreamy "Dreamers". If you're a fan of "Jesus freak" psych (a la The Search Party, The New Creation, and that Resurrection comp, to mention three things we've reviewed in that vein) then you might dig the CRB too. Yeah, we're all into black metal here at AQ, but sometimes bands that sing about God in a nice way we like too... all depends on the music!
Originally released on vinyl in 1971 by the band themselves to sell at Christian bookstores, in an edition of 500.
This is the kind of record that makes it hard to listen to anything else. This is Sam Cooke at his artistic peak! Of course the vocals are some of the best recorded male vox of all time. The instrumentation is superb and still fresh sounding with folks like Billy Preston creating the perfect layer for Cooke's voice to lay on top of and seep into our veins like only he could. "Night Beat" is the moodiest album he ever made and one that you can tell was definitely meant to be heard as an album and not just a platform for singles. When Cooke's voice firsts greets us on the opener "Nobody Knows The Trouble I've Seen" it's impossible not to be struck by the urgency, the poignancy, the meaning oozing from his heart and soul. It's a record that you have to listen to alone at night for the first time to totally appreciate. And then it will be there for you at any time of day. With Cooke singing songs about this mean mean world we all have to live through and the ways we all try to survive, the emotional depth and clarity is so stunning. While he's usually not thought of in this kind of company we think playing this alongside Cat Power's Moon Pix and Bonnie Prince Billy's I See A Darkness would make for a perfect triple bill of deep rooted emotional poignancy. You gotta have this!
These former Atlantans now New Yorkers infuse a little flamenco into their impassioned music... no, not quite to the degree that local band Fla-metal do (yup, that band does flamenco metal!), but the fiery flair and graceful stomp makes itself felt throughout their fourth album En Este Momento. Many other styles are definitely entwined in the band's potent rock mix too -- Southwestern twang, pop, mariachi horns, murder balladry and a little bit of punk too. An easy reference point would be to imagine a rocked up Lhasa. Actually while we're musing, let's also imagine a duet between lead vocalist Ani Cordero and Ms De Sela... whoa! Not too far-fetched an idea really -- both ladies have musical friends in common (Calexico, Giant Sand). Sultry, lively and captivating. Psst, a extra little trivia tidbit: Ani was in Clone Project Gamma, the all-girl combo in Man Or Astro-Man's genius touring clone band project a number of years ago.
Writing a guest review here two years ago, Wrest of Leviathan called Craft's previous album Terror Propaganda a "lesson in the grimmest of expession". We just got this new, third (and final? maybe not) Craft disc in stock so we haven't checked with Wrest yet to see what he thinks of it, but subjecting it to our own finely black metal attuned ears, we say, YEAH!
Fuck The Universe is another bog-blast of genius from one of the best bands in the Swedish black metal underground. For the black at heart, grim pleasures abound in Craft's negative metal mixture of misanthropic spittle, dismal drone and headbanging hooks, the band bulldozering through the uncaring cosmos with the feeling being mutual. Or worse. There's something very rock and roll gone wrong about this, slowed down thrash executed with a sneer of competence, nodding to the gods Darkthrone and Mayhem with a "don't worry, we've got it covered" sort of look (and sound). Recommended. Plus, this domestic version is released on the undeniably hip label Southern Lord, whose doom roots have of late seemingly been overtaken by the love of black metal, and they love the good stuff, we're on the same page there!
Sure, a lot of people win big in Vegas, but before even hearing New Zealander Maryrose Crook's solo album, we couldn't help but be struck with the thought that the album's title only conjures thoughts of shattered dreams, drowning sorrows, fallen angels and utter bleakness. Upon hearing the music we realize that it too absolutely encapsulates all of that, but it evokes a period long before the neon lights obliterated the starry desert nights. Of course, this is all assuming that the Vegas referred to in the title is the one in Nevada. For much of Ghosts Of Our Vegas Lives, Ms Crook and The Renderers linger in smoldering folk balladry. It's a territory Crook knows and navigates well, but she stokes the flames of country rock for a couple of swaggering numbers late in the album (check out "Blood Of The Angels") also to very good effect.
The third cd long-player to come from these local sharp-dressed rock and roll revivalists about town, The Cuts. Yay! Every time we've seen 'em play, they've been great -- but just a little bit different from the last time. At one gig they'll come across all Cars-y, keyboards to the fore. The next, it's guitar-heavy rawkin' with an early '70s Alice Cooper vibe. Ya never know quite what to expect, except that they're always impressive and a real authentic rock n' roll good time. Just like this album. We dug albums one and two, but number three might be the best yet. It's like some amazing power pop band from the early '70s that you somehow never heard of, whose album just got reissued and makes you go, wow, they just don't make 'em like they used to. But they do, and The Cuts are doin' it. From Here On Out sees them honing their craft (and they ARE careful craftsmen, with so much attention to songwritiing, arrangement, and performance), doing their influences proud, from '60s garage to west coast ballroom psych to new wave pop. There's out-and-out guitar rock action here as well as lovely, pretty pop moves too, with vocal harmonies and all. Recommended.
The self-titled debut cd by the oddly monikered Dark Side Of The Cop (aka Marco Panella) is a super sweet and buoyant affair. Despite his name's nod to Pink Floyd, this one man band certainly wears his Brian Wilson influences on his sleeves in many ways. For one thing he has one of those soft wistful boy singing voices that occasionally brings to mind the abovementioned Wilson or David Gates. The disc opens with what sounds like a somber procession of tin toy trains, and robots, but they're just the tip of Panella's own personal mini orchestra. Warm guitar and piano soon join the fray along with some softly prickly programmed rhythms. So nice.
We've been loving Davenport for a good long while now, but they were one of those bands who hovered ghostlike in the world of ultra limited cd-r's and limited-to-50-copies lathe cuts and thus we were never able to get more than a few copies of any of their records until now. Free Country is the first proper cd release we've had from this gorgeously mysterious outfit and the title couldn't more perfectly reflect the music inside. Completely free country, loosed from the restraints of typical twang and instead posessing some haunting otherworldly magic, occupying an impossible space somewhere between Jackie-O-Motherfucker, Scott Tuma, the No Neck Blues Band, Souled American, Avarus, Smithsonian Folkways and all of the wraith like purveyors of whir and drone we dig so much. This is still, somehow, some bizarre strain of country music, but it's filtered through foresty folk and free noise and tribal clatter and all the other stuff that informs what is sometimes referred to now as new weird America. It's really hard to describe. Nashville via Finland via the American Southwest maybe? Harry Smith's Anthology of abstract free folk and minimal country? Drone country? They all hint at the sweet mystery of this record but fall just short of truly describing how fucking beautiful it really is. Free Country is a series of dark, droning, sweetly melancholic sonic abstracts, all cobbled together from warm washes of organ, swirls of tone generators and simple muted percussive thumps, skittery casios and simple twangy guitar melodies, keening fiddles, grizzled old-blues-guy vocal samples, smears of impossibly lovely ambience, stretches of whispery almost-krautrock like rhythms, delicate piano tinkle and blurry synthesizer squiggle, mumbled sad boy vocals all marble mouthed and introspective (sounding a bit like This Heat vocals), streaks of fuzz guitar and plenty of reverb and delay and a production that deftly manges to combine outdoorsy campfire whispiness with big cavernous throb, making every thing sound warm and dense but airy and free, like a thick cloud of steam when you first open the door of a hot shower, the melodies and fragments of song smeared and indistinct, quickly fading as if drawn on a fogged up mirror with your finger. Gorgeous.
A few lists back we reviewed the most recent Davenport cd, a gorgeous slab of droney dreamy outsider free folk twang. It was great to finally be able to spread the word about a band we'd been digging for ages via super limited cd-r's and lps, always unfortunately too limited to get enough for the list. And as if on cue, a few weeks later, after mentioning the bands penchant for limited runs, we get a new SUPER limited lp, so limited it's already out of print in fact. But we did manage to get a bunch, but a bunch means like 20. so don't snooze on this one!
A little less overtly twangy than the Last Visible Dog cd, the lp is a more abstract, much dronier, more mysteriously abstract affair. Creepy and skeletal, ominous and darkly dreamy. Warm swells of rumble and deconstructed twang. Occasionally the mist parts revealing a strange pagan gypsy hoedown, a wondrous forest ritual, keening fiddles, softly strummed detuned guitars and strange sing songy vocals. But thos brief glimpses are soon obscured by more droney murk and rumbling fuzz. Really cool.
Packaged in swank hand screened sleeves. The first half of the orders for the 20 or so we have will get the colored vinyl version, the rest will get the black vinyl. If you will not be happy with the black vinyl DO NOT ORDER THIS, just feel lucky if you end up with a red copy, although as far as we're concerned black is WAY cooler than red, when you really think about it...
There's quite a bit of tortured artist in the career of Deadboy's Dax Riggs. Even back in the nineties, fronting grind-glam-sludge lords Acid Bath, Riggs singlehandedly supplied the glam, a crooning superstar trudging through swamps of Eyehategod sludge and NOLA stoner doom groove. The combination was electric, ask anyone here how much we absolutely loved Acid Bath and their dark psychedelic tales of butterflies and codeine, death and broken hearts, told in haunting vignettes equal parts druggy acoustic dirge and crushing downtuned groove. It was only a matter of timee though before Riggs outgrew the confines of a metal band and thus was born the Agents Of Oblivion, a slow burning smoldering hard rock band, delivering intensely emotional ballads wrapped in thick guitars, incredible hooks, a sweetly psychedelic haze and Riggs' even more prominent velveety croon. Totally channelling the spirt of Bowie and Bolan, Riggs was a serpentine superstar, howling and cooing, above a thick rich web of warm groovy sound. But still, Dax Riggs Superstar remained an acquired taste, a completely underground phenomenon. The Agents splintered and Deadboy and The Elephantmen were born, the sound was nearly the same, some of the members too, as they self released another amazing record that sort of just disappeared. But now it's 2006 and Deadboy is reborn, as a two piece, the Elephantmen replaced by Riggs's girlfriend Tessie Brunet, and on Fat Possum of all labels, which makes absolutely no sense until you hear We Are Night Sky. The record starts off with a wild rock stomp, equal parts the White Stripes and labelmates the Black Keys, with Riggs' voice swooping all over the place over an impossibly hooky riff, and lots of strange start stop dynamics. At first we were a little bit bummed, this was NOT at all what we wanted from Riggs at all, but the more we listened, the more we got sucked in and now that track is an everyday play. The record definitely veers back into classic Riggs / Agents territory after that with delicate acoustic guitars, hushed vocals, Brunet's sweet harmonies in the background, each track a psychedelic swirl, all drifty and druggy and folky and oh so lovely. But before you know if, a fuzzed out riff kicks in and we're back to serious blown out bloooz rock territory, huge swaths of swaggering Stripes / Keys / Crows rock and rhythm and bluees, always with that distinct NOLA stoner groove, no matter how subtle, we can tell it's there, muted murky riffs explode above Tessie Brunet's simple solid drumming as her sweet understated background vocals balance Riggs all out histrionics. The whole record continues to sway back and forth dizzily, between Riggs' two distinct musical personalities, his big, foot stomping guitar flailing rock Hyde, and his druggy gentle folky strum Jeckyl, both equally appealing. Still dark and druggy and warped for sure, but just accessible enough to give all those hippy rockers into the Black Crowes and the Black Keys and all day festivals something a little bit weirder and a little bit harder to stick in their ears!
